Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard
day after day, and perhaps of losing your life. It is human
(and it is characteristic of being human) were you to think
as follows: "no, thank you, in that case I prefer to remain deaf
and blind and lame and leprous, rather than accept aid under
such conditions."
"Come hither, come hither, all, ye that labor and are heavy
laden, ah, come hither," lo! he invites you and opens his arms.
Ah, when a gentlemanly man clad in a silken gown says this in
a pleasant, harmonious voice so that the words pleasantly resound
in the handsome vaulted church, a man in silk who radiates honor
and respect on all who listen to him; ah, when a king in purple
and velvet says this, with the Christmas tree in the background
on which are hanging all the splendid gifts he intends to distribute,
why, then of course there is some meaning in these words! But
whatever meaning you may attach to them, so much is sure that
it is not Christianity, but the exact opposite, something as
diametrically opposed to Christianity as may well be; for remember
who it is that invites!
And now judge for yourself--for that you have a right to do;
whereas men really do not have a right to do what is so often
done, viz. to deceive themselves. That a man of such appearance,
a man whose company every one shuns who has the least bit of sense
in his head, or the least bit to lose in the world, that he--well,
this is the absurdest and maddest thing of all, one hardly knows
whether to laugh or to weep about it--that he--indeed, that is
the very last word one would expect to issue from his mouth; for
if he had said: "Come hither and help me," or: "Leave me alone,"
or: "Spare me," or proudly: "I despise you all," we could understand
that perfectly--but that such a man says: "Come hither to me!" why,
I declare, that looks inviting indeed! And still further: "All
ye that labor and are heavy laden"--as though such folk were
not burdened enough with troubles, as though they now, to cap
all, should be exposed to the consequences of associating with
him. And then, finally: "I shall give you rest." What's that?--he
help them? Ah, I am sure even the most good-natured joker who
was contemporary with him would have to say: "Surely, that was
the thing he should have undertaken last of all--to wish to
help others, being in that condition himself! Why, it is about
the same as if a beggar were to inform the police that he had
been robbed. For it is a contradiction that one who has nothing,
and has had nothing, informs us that he has been robbed; and
likewise, to wish to help others when one's self needs help
most." Indeed it is, humanly speaking, the most harebrained
contradiction, that he who literally "hath not where to lay
his head," that he about whom it was spoken truly, in a human
sense, "Behold the man!"--that he should say: "Come hither unto
me all ye that suffer--I shall help!"
Now examine yourself--for that you have a right to do. You have
a right to examine yourself, but you really do not have a right
to let yourself without self-examination be deluded by "the
others" into the belief, or to delude yourself into the belief,
that you are a Christian--therefore examine yourself: supposing
you were contemporary with him! True enough he--alas! he affirmed
himself to be God! But many another madman has made that claim--and
his times gave it as their opinion that he uttered blasphemy.
Why, was not that precisely the reason why a punishment was
threatened for allowing one's self to be aided by him? It was
the godly care for their souls entertained by the existing order
and by public opinion, lest any one should be led astray: it was
this godly care that led them to persecute him in this fashion.
Therefore, before any one resolves to be helped by him, let him
consider that he must not only expect the antagonism of men,
but--consider it well!--even if you could bear the consequences
of that step--but consider well, that the punishment meted out
by men is supposed to be God's punishment of him, "the blasphemer"--of
him who invites!
Come hither now all ye that labor and are heavy laden!
How now? Surely this is nothing to run after--some little pause
is given, which is most fittingly used to go around about by way
of another street. And even if you should not thus sneak out in
some way--always providing you feel yourself to be contemporary
with him--or sneak into being some kind of Christian by belonging
to Christendom: yet there will be a tremendous pause given, the
pause which is the very condition that faith may arise: you are
given pause by the possibility of being offended in him.
But in order to make it entirely clear, and bring it home to our
minds, that the pause is given by him who invites, that it is he
who gives us pause and renders it by no means an easy, but a
peculiarly difficult, matter to follow his invitation, because
one has no right to accept it without accepting also him who
invites--in order to make this entirely clear I shall briefly
review his life under two aspects which, to be sure, show some
difference though both essentially pertain to his abasement.
For it is always an abasement for God to become man, even if
he were to be an emperor of emperors; and therefore he is not
essentially more abased because he is a poor, lowly man, mocked,
and as Scripture adds,[11] spat upon.
THE FIRST PHASE OF HIS LIFE
And now let us speak about him in a homely fashion, just as
his contemporaries spoke about him, and as one speaks about
some contemporary--let him be a man of the same kind as we are,
whom one meets on the street in passing, of whom one knows where
he lives and in what story, what his business is, who his parents
are, his family, how he looks and how he dresses, with whom he
associates, "and there is nothing extraordinary about him, he
looks as men generally look"; in short, let us speak of him as
one speaks of some contemporary about whom one does not make a
great ado; for in living life together with these thousands upon
thousands of real people there is no room for a fine distinction
like this: "Possibly, this man will be remembered in centuries to
come," and "at the same time he is really only a clerk in some
shop who is no whit better than his fellows." Therefore, let us
speak about him as contemporaries speak about some contemporary.
I know very well what I am doing; and I want you to believe that
the canting and indolent world-historic habit we have of always
reverently speaking about Christ (since one has learned all about
it from history, and has heard so much about his having been
something very extraordinary, indeed, or something of that kind)--that
reverent habit, I assure you, is not worth a row of pins but
is, rather, sheer thoughtlessness, hypocrisy, and as such blasphemy;
for it is blasphemy to reverence thoughtlessly him whom one is
either to believe in or to be offended in.
It is the lowly Jesus Christ, a humble man, born of a maiden
of low degree, whose father is a carpenter. To be sure, his
appearance is made under conditions which are bound to attract
attention to him. The small nation among whom he appears, God's
Chosen People as they call themselves, live in anticipation of
a Messiah who is to bring a golden period to land and people.
You must grant that the form in which he appears is as different
as possible from what most people would have expected. On the
other hand, his appearance corresponds more to the ancient prophecies
with which the people are thought to have been familiar. Thus
he presents himself. A predecessor has called attention to him,
and he himself fastens attention very decidedly on himself by
signs and wonders which are noised abroad in all the land--and
he is the hero of the hour, surrounded by unnumbered multitudes
of people wheresoever he fares. The sensation aroused by him
is enormous, every one's eyes are fastened on him, every one
who can go about, aye even those who can only crawl, must see
the wonder--and every one must have some opinion about him,
so that the purveyors of ready-made opinions are put to it because
the demand is so furious and the contradictions so confusing.
And yet he, the worker of miracles, ever remains the humble man
who literally hath not where to lay his head.
And let us not forget: signs and wonders as contemporary events
have a markedly greater elasticity in repelling or attracting
than the tame stories generally re-hashed by the priests, or the
still tamer stories about signs and wonders that happened--1800
years ago! Signs and wonders as contemporary events are something
plaguy and importunate, something which in a highly embarrassing
manner almost compels one to have an opinion, something which,
if one does not happen to be disposed to believe, may exasperate
one excessively by thus forcing one to be contemporaneous with it.
Indeed, it renders existence too complicated, and the more so, the
more thoughtful, developed, and cultured one is. It is a peculiarly
ticklish matter, this having to assume that a man who is contemporaneous
with one really performs signs and wonders; but when he is at some
distance from one, when the consequences of his life stimulate
the imagination a bit, then it is not so hard to imagine, in a
fashion, that one believes it.
As I said, then, the people are carried away with him; they follow
him jubilantly, and see signs and wonders, both those which he
performs and those which he does not perform, and they are glad
in their hope that the golden age will begin, once he is king.
But the crowd rarely have a clear reason for their opinions, they
think one thing today and another tomorrow. Therefore the wise
and the critical will not at once participate. Let us see now
what the wise and the critical must think, so soon as the first
impression of astonishment and surprise has subsided.
The shrewd and critical man would probably say: "Even assuming
that this person is what he claims to be, that is, something
extraordinary--for as to his affirming himself to be God I can,
of course, not consider that as anything but an exaggeration for
which I willingly make allowances, and pardon him, if I really
considered him to be something extraordinary; for I am not a
pedant--assuming then, which I hesitate to do, for it is a matter
on which I shall at any rate suspend my judgment--assuming then
that he is really performing miracles: is it not an inexplicable
mystery that this person can be so foolish, so weak-minded, so
altogether devoid of worldly wisdom, so feeble, or so good-naturedly
vain, or whatever else you please to call it--that he behaves
in this fashion and almost forces his benefactions on men? Instead
of proudly and commandingly keeping people away from himself at
a distance marked by their profoundest submission, whenever he
does allow himself to be seen, at rare occasions: instead of
doing so, think of his being accessible to every one, or rather
himself going to every one, of having intercourse with everybody,
almost as if being the extraordinary person consisted in his
being everybody's servant,[12] as if the extraordinary person
he claims to be were marked by his being concerned only lest
men should fail to be benefited by him--in short as if being
an extraordinary person consisted in being the most solicitous
of all persons. The whole business is inexplicable to me--what
he wants, what his purpose is, what end he has in mind, what he
expects to accomplish; in a word, what the meaning of it all
is. He who by so many a wise saying reveals so profound an insight
into the human heart, he must certainly know what I, using but
half of my wits, can predict for him, viz. that in such fashion
one gets nowhere in the world--unless, indeed, despising prudence,