Søren Kierkegaard ⁽²⁾

Kierkegaard took the title from the words of Apostle Paul:

"Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose." (Philippians 2:12‐13).

From the very first pages, one is captivated by scenarios of how the journey of Abraham and Isaac to Mount Moriah might have unfolded, where Abraham was supposed to kill his son.

However, what follows are rather intricate and distressing topics for my understanding.

The Leap of Faith (absurdity of faith) - a paradox that eternally connects God and Man, deeply internally and subjectively.

Behind this relationship lies intense tension and trust (as seen in Abraham), and these relations stand above any Ethics or Morality. Only a person becomes the measure for themselves, and no outsider can advise them. For Abraham is either the prophet of faith (in this paradox) or a crazed murderer.

The responsibility of such relationships lies solely on the individual; they cannot pass it for group verification. And one cannot unite on this path with another human.

On a level that I could grasp: The risk that a person might err in their faith does not justify the community's standard solution in verifying these individual relationships with God.

It's better to have that freedom, that threat, and that monumental responsibility which will remain with the individual in these relationships.

The mystery of God - appears much more truthful than the literal dissection of God.

Kierkegaard passionately reflects on Abraham's faith, who took Isaac to Mount Moriah to offer him as a sacrifice. His beloved son. About that leap of faith into the abyss. Where there's truly nothing to hold onto, and only faith remains. Over the past year, I have changed my thoughts about Abraham's act many times. I still don't know where I've landed.

However, the question of the Leap of Faith has deeply moved me. Honestly, I can't really pray as long as there's ordinary human hope for a good outcome. But when there seems to be no chance at all, sometimes it breaks through. And that's a completely different kind of prayer. Now I've received support from Kierkegaard, but maybe some of you, my dear readers, have encountered something similar in your faith?

P.S.: One thing though, if someone dies, I can't pray with the hope that they will suddenly come back to life and emerge from their coffin like Lazarus.