See other formats

Full text of "For Self-Examination And Judge For Yourselves And Three Discourses 1851"

240 K47f 



For self-examinatioi 
'~ ""^ judge for Tour- 

_ 240 K4?f _ 

Keep Your Card in This Pocket 

Books -will be issued only on presentation of proper 
library cards. 

Unless labeled otherwise, books may be retained 
for two weeks. Borrowers finding books marked, de- 
faced or mutilated are expected to report same at 
library desk; otherwise the last borrower will be held 
responsible for all imperfections discoverejd* 

The card holder is responsible for all 'books drawn 
on this card. 

Penalty for over-due books. 2c a day plus cost of 
notices. 

Lost cards and 'change ot residence must be re- 
ported promptly. 

Public Library 

Kansas City, Mo.. 
Keep Your Card in This Pocket 




KANSAS CITY, MO. PUBLIC LIBRARY 



"o USjU Jj UUj r SJ 3 Ef 



FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

AND 

JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

AND 

THREE DISCOURSES 
1851 



FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

AND ?;; ? /~; 

JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

AND 

THREE DISCOURSES 

1851 

BY 

S0REN KIERKEGAARD 

TRANSLATED BY 

WALTER LQWRIE, D.D. 



PRINCETON 

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS 
LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD 

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 
1944 



First -published in Great Britain, 1941 
Reprinted by of set in the United States of America, 1944 



PREFACE 

THE accompanying volume, published on the same date, 
and entitled Training in Christianity^ is introduced by an 
Introduction so adequate and by a Preface so inordinately 
long that I can spare the reader another introduction, which 
could only be a repetition of the first, and might spare myself 
the trouble of writing a preface. At this moment I am inclined 
almost to be resentful that another- preface is required, for origin- 
ally I proposed to publish in one big volume all the works which 
now, for the convenience of the purchaser, are presented in two. 

However, there is pleasure to be found even in the writing of 
prefaces. Kierkegaard's prefaces were usually short, but they were 
always significant. Four of them are to be seen in this volume. 
However, one of his most amusing books (entitled Prefaces) 
consists of nothing but prefaces eight of them in all, one on 
the heels of the other. He was reduced to this expedient because, 
as he pretended, his wife had exacted of him the promise that he 
would write no more * books'. 

This volume, (which may be regarded as the second, because 
the works which it contains actually followed the others and are 
properly a sequel) appears on the same date as the other because 
the works contained in the twain belong intimately together, and 
therefore ought not to be far separated in case someone may 
have an appetite prodigious enough to want both. 

From the beginning of his 'authorship* it was S. K/s custom to 
"accompany* his 'aesthetic' works, which always were pseudony- 
mous, with one or more * Edifying Discourses', which were 
published over his own name, and therefore, to preserve the 
fiction of his anonymity, were often issued by another publisher. 
Although the principal works published in this volume were in 
themselves decisively religious, and now for the first time were no 
longer pseudonymous, S. K. continued the custom of accompany- 
ing them, when there was no longer the same reason for it. The 
first two Discourses in this volume were meant as an accompani- 
ment of the longer work which follows. And it is well that they 
should not be separated; for the reader surely must feel a grateful 
sense of relief in passing from the more trenchant and closely 



v!-; PREFACE 

reasoned -"works : tb-"f Be" Discourses, which were really as well as 

ostensibly Addressed to simple Christians. 

TfoD- Discourse which concludes this volume may also be re- 
garded as the conclusion of S. K.'s religious writing. It was 
published in 1855, introducing dramatically into the bitter con- 
flict S. K. was waging against conventional Christianity a purely 
religious note, which dated, as he remarked, from an earlier time. 
This Discourse was in fact actually delivered in the Citadel 
Church on May 18, 1851, and the Preface is dated on S. K.'s 
forty-first birthday, May 5, 1854. He also meant it as a gesture 
of farewell to his deceased father, to whom in similar terms he had 
dedicated all of the earlier Edifying Discourses. This Discourse 
was not translated by me but by Professor David Swenson, who 
kindly contributes it to this volume much to my satisfaction, 
not because it spares me a little labour, but because I am happy 
to be formally associated with him in the enterprise of making- 
Kierkegaard known and understood, to which we have both of us 
contributed whole-heartedly. 

The two larger works contained in this volume, although they 
were not published together, and although the second was not 
published at all in S. K.'s lifetime, evidently belong together, as 
the sub-title of the second suggests, as well as the characterization 
of it as 'Second Series'. Just as evidently they are the sequel of 
the work contained in the 'first' volume; and because of this close 
connexion it is not possible to deal with them separately in an 
introduction. The Introduction to the companion volume gives 
briefly an account of the whole "production' dating from the years 
1848-51, and it cannot be necessary to repeat it here if, as may 
be expected, the reader who will read only one of these works 
will prefer to read the first. In any case, for a fuller elucida- 
tion I have to refer to my book on Kierkegaard^ especially to 
the chapters entitled 'Back to Christianity!' and 'Venturing Far 
Out'. 

In these two later works, which are also the last of the sort, 
the polemical note becomes increasingly prominent, without be- 
coming predominant as it was in the subsequent period. And the 
fact that such a book as For Self -Examination ,> the polemical point 
of which is so sharp, made no impression upon the Church not 
even so much as to encourage the publication of the 'Second 
Series' makes it evident, I think, that to make his voice heard 



PREFACE vii 

S. K. was compelled to shout as loudly and shrilly as he did in the 
open attack which followed tardily and reluctantly. 

I take this occasion to say that, though I admire the courage 
and vigour with which the attack was conducted and sympathize 
with its aim, though I regard these tracts for the ^ime as among 
the most virile documents that have ever been written, and though 
I revere the author of them as a witness for the truth who triumphed 
over great weakness to become a martyr, yet it is not for me to 
translate them. Some day they should be translated, but prefer- 
ably not until S. K. has become well known and his deeply 
religious aim is understood. For the present, the works which are 
here presented supply us with all the buffeting we can bear or 
profit by. S. K. said that he regarded them as addressed 'solely* 
to himself. I cannot read them without feeling that they are 
addressed principally to me, 

WALTER LOWRIE 

PRINCETON 

June loth, 1938* 

*The date signifies that this volume and its companion were ready two years ago and 
only a year after I had finished my Kierkegaard. They are the first things I translated, 
and they were at once delivered to the printer. But publication has been so long 
deferred owing to Professor Swenson's insistence that these most incisive and 
trenchant works ought not to be set before a public which had not yet been made 
acquainted with the milder tone of S. K.'s Edifying Discourses. So I set to work to 
translate the numerous works which have been published under the titles The Paint of 
View and the Christian Discourses. Others have made known Fear and Trembling 
and a discourse entitled Purify your Heart! My translation of the Stages will be 
published by the Princeton University Press at about the same time as this volume, 
and not much later Professor Swenson's translation of the Concluding Unscientific 
Postscript which I completed after his untimely death. But now (on July 26th, 
1940) I am not sure whether I have done well to publish last these works which 
I translated first. I am sure only of this, that it is high time Kierkegaard were revealed 
to the English-speaking world through the books which most clearly reveal him. 



CONTENTS 

TWO DISCOURSES AT THE COMMUNION . Page I 

FOR SELF-EXAMINATION . . 27 

JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! . . . 107 

AN EDIFYING DISCOURSE . . . 223 

INDEX . . . . . 241 



TWO DISCOURSES 
AT THE COMMUNION ON FRIDAYS 

by 
S. Kierkegaard 



Copenhagen 

1851 
[Aug. 7.] 



At the end of 1849 



TO ONE UNNAMED 
whose name some day shall be named 



is dedicated along 

with this little work the whole of 

the authorship from the very beginning 



NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR. Regma of course Is meant. This dedication is a reply 
to her husband's Yejection of the suggestion of a rapprochement. 



PREFACE 

A gradually progressing work as a writer, which had its beginning in Either '/Or 
seeks here its definite point of rest at the foot of the altar, where the author, who per- 
sonally knows best his imperfection and guilt, does not by any means call himself a 
witness for the truth, but only a peculiar sort of poet and thinker who, 'without 
authority*, has nothing new to bring but would read the fundamental document of 
the individual, humane existence-relationship, the old, well-known, from the fathers 
handed down would read it through yet once again, if possible in a more heart- 
felt way. (See the postscript to my 'Concluding Postscript'.) 

In this direction I have nothing more to add. But let me give utterance to this 
which in a sense is my very life, the content of my life for me, its fullness, its happi- 
ness, its peace and contentment. There are various philosophies of life which deal 
with the question of human dignity and human equality Christianly, every man (the 
individual), absolutely every man, once again, absolutely every man is equally near 
to God. .And how is he near and equally near? Loved by Him. So there is equality, 
infinite equality between man and man. If there be any difference, O, this difference, 
if difference there be, is peaceableness itself, undisturbed it does not disturb the 
equality in the remotest degree. The difference is that one man bears in mind that he 
is loved, perhaps day in and day out, perhaps for seventy years day in and day out, 
perhaps having only one longing, the longing for eternity, impatient to lay hold of it 
and be off, he is busy with this blessed occupation of bearing in mind that he ah, not 
for his virtue's sake is loved. Another perhaps does not reflect upon the fact that he 
is loved, perhaps he is glad and thankful to be loved by his wife, by his children, by his 
friends, by his acquaintances, and does not reflect that he is loved by God; or perhaps 
he sighs at the thought that he is loved by nobody and does not reflect that he is loved 
by God. 'Yet', so might the first one say, *I am guiltless, I cannot help it if another 
overlooks or disdains the love which is lavished as richly upon him as upon me.* In- 
finite divine love which makes no distinction ! Ah human ingratitude ! what if 
among us men there were likeness and equality in the sense that we are like one 
another, entirely alike, inasmuch as not one of us rightly reflects that he is loved. 

Turning now to the other side, and expressing thanks for such sympathy and good 
will as have been showed me, I could wish that I might as it were present these works 
(as I now take the liberty of doing) and commend them to the nation whose language 
I am proud to have the honour of writing, feeling for it a filial devotion and an 
almost womanly tenderness, yet comforting myself also with the thought that it will 
not be disgraced by the fact that I have used it. 

Copenhagen, kte summer 1851. S. K. 



PRAYER 

LORD JESUS CHRIST, though indeed Thou didst not corne into the world to judge the 
world, yet as love which was not loved Thou wast a judgement upon the world. 
We call ourselves Christians, we say that we have none to turn to but to Thee 
alas, where might we go when to us also, just because of Thy love, the condemnation 
applies that we love little? To whom (oh, disconsolate thought !) if not to Thee? 
To whom then (oh, counsel of despair !) if Thou really wouldst not receive us 
mercifully, forgiving us our great sin against Thee and against love, forgiving us 
who have sinned much because we loved little ? 

Luke 7: 47. BUT TO WHOM LITTLE is FORGIVEN, THE SAME 

LOVETH LITTLE 

MY hearer, at the altar the invitation is uttered: 'Come 
hither, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest.* The individual responds to the 
invitation, he goes up to the altar then there is another saying 
which might be inscribed above the church door, on the inside, 
not to be read by them that go into the church, but only by them 
that are going out: 'To whom little is forgiven, the same loveth 
little.' The first saying is the altar's invitation, the other is its 
vindication, as if it said, *If at the altar thou wast not sensible of 
the forgiveness of thy sins, of every sin of thine, the fault lies in 
thee, the altar is blameless, because thou only lovest little/ Oh, 
how hard it is in praying to reach the Amen. For though to the 
man who never has prayed it looks easy enough, easy enough to 
get quickly through with it, yet to the man who had a longing 
to pray and began to pray the experience must have occurred that 
he constantly felt as if there were something more upon his heart, 
as if he could not get everything said, or get it said as he would 
like to say it, and so he does not reach the Amen likewise how* 
hard it is at the altar rightly to apprehend the forgiveness of sins. 
There thou art promised the gracious forgiveness of all thy sins. 
If thou dost rightly hear that promise, takest it quite literally as 
'the forgiveness of all thy sins', then shalt thou leave the altar as 
light of heart, in a godly sense, as a newborn babe upon whom no 
anxiety weighs, even lighter in heart, forasmuch as much has 
weighed upon thy heart; at the altar there is no one who would 
retain even the least of thy sins no one, unless It be thou. Then 



io THE SAME LOVETH LITTLE 

cast them all from thee, and the remembrance of them as well (lest 
in that way they be retained), and also the remembrance that thou 
didst cast them from thee (lest in that way they be retained by 
thee) cast it all from thee, thou hast nothing whatever to do 
but to cast off, to cast off what weighs upon thee and oppresses 
thee. What could be easier? Commonly it is a heavy task to 
be bound by duty to assume burdens but to dare, to be in 
duty bound to cast them off! And yet how difficult! Yes, rarer 
even than one who assumed all burdens, rarer even than that is 
one who has performed the apparently easy task of feeling him- 
self, after receiving the assurance of the gracious pardon of his sins 
and the pledge of it, entirely lightened of every, even the least sin, 
and of every, even the greatest sin'. If thou wert able to look 
into men's hearts, thou wouldst surely see how many there are 
who approach the altar oppressed and sighing under their heavy 
burden ; and when they leave the altar, if thou couldst look into 
their hearts, possibly thou mightest see that substantially there 
was not a single one who went away entirely lightened of his 
burden, and sometimes perhaps thou mightest see that there was 
one who went away even more oppressed, oppressed now by 
the thought that he surely had not been a worthy guest at the 
altar, seeing that he found there no relief. 

We will not conceal from one another that such is the case, we 
will not talk in such a way as to ignore how things are in reality 
and represent everything as so perfect that it does not fit the case 
of us real men. Oh, no, what help would such a discourse be? 
But, on the other hand, when the discourse makes us as imper- 
fect as we are, it helps us to persevere in steady effort, neither 
being intoxicated by the vain dream that by the one effort every- 
thing was decided, nor losing heart in silent despondency because 
this effort did not succeed according to our wish, that what we 
had prayed for and desired did not come to pass. 

In the brief time prescribed let us dwell upon this word : *But 
to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little' a word of 
condemnation^ but also a word of comfort. 

And thou, my hearer, be not disturbed that I speak in this 
manner at tbe moment when thou art going up to the altar, 
perhaps expecting and exacting that he who is to speak at this 
moment should speak in another manner, employing every means 



A WORD OF CONDEMNATION 11 

to reassure the individual and render him confident, and then, if 
he learned subsequently that this holy ceremony had not been a 
joy and blessing to the individual, he could speak to him in a dif- 
ferent manner. Ah, my friend, in part I make answer that in truth 
it is not the single individual who here fails to succeed entirely; 
no, it is only a single individual who succeeds entirely. In part 
I would say that there is a concern, a heart-felt concern, which per- 
haps assists a man better to succeed in the highest sense better 
than too much confidence. and too careless an intrepidity. There 
is a longing after God, a confidence in God, a comfort and hope 
in God, a love, a frankheartedness but what most surely finds 
Him is perhaps a sorrow after God. Sorrow after God that is no 
fleeting mood which promptly vanishes with a nearer approach 
to God; on the contrary, it is perhaps deepest when it draws 
nearest to God, as one who thus sorrows is more fearful for him- 
self the nearer he comes to God. 

To whom little is forgiven^ the same loveth little. This is a word 
of condemnation. 

Commonly the situation is conceived thus: justice means severe 
judgement; love is the gentle thing which does not judge, or if 
it does, love's judgement is a gentle judgement. No, no, love's 
judgement is the severest judgement. The severest judgement 
ever passed upon the world, more severe than the flood, more 
severe than the confusion of Babel or than the destruction of 
Sodom and Gomorrah was it not Christ's innocent death, 
which yet was love's sacrifice ? And what was this judgement ? 
Surely this, that 'love* was not loved. So it is here. The word of 
judgement and condemnation does not say, the one to whom 
little was forgiven had sinned much, in the sense that the sins 
were too many or too great to be forgiven. No, the condemnation 
is, 'He loves little.' So it is not justice which sternly denies 
pardon and forgiveness to the sinner ; it is love which says gently 
and compassionately, */ forgive thee all; if but little is forgiven 
thee, it is because thou dost love but little/ Justice sternly 
prescribes the limit and says, *No farther, now the measure is 
mil, for thee there is no more forgiveness', but there it stops. 
Love says, Everything is forgiven thee if but little is forgiven, 
it is because thou dost love but little' ; so that there is superadded 
a new sin, a new guilt, that of deserving condemnation, not for 
sins already committed, but for lack of love. Wouldst thou learn 



12 THE SAME LOVETH LITTLE 

to fear, learn then to fear, not the severity ^ of justice, but the 
gentleness of love. Justice looks condemningly upon a man, 
and the sinner cannot endure its glance; but when love looks upon 
him, yea, though he withdraws from its glance, though he casts 
down his eyes, he nevertheless is aware that it looks upon him; for 
love pierces far more deeply into life, to the very issues of life, 
than does justice, which establishes a yawning gulf between the 
sinner and itself, whereas love stands beside him, accuses not, 
condemns not, pardons and forgives. The sinner cannot endure 
the condemning voice of justice, he seeks if possible to stop his 
ears; but even if he would, it is impossible for him to hear love, 
whose condemnation is (oh, frightful condemnation 1), 'Thy sins 
are forgiven thee'. Frightful condemnation, in spite of the fact 
that the words in themselves are anything but terrifying; and 
this precisely is the reason why the sinner cannot close his ears 
to what nevertheless is a judgement of condemnation. Whither 
shall I flee from Justice, if I take the wings of the morning and 
flee to the uttermost sea, even there it is, and if I hide myself in 
the deep, it is there, and so it is in every place yet, no, there is 
one place where I can flee: to love. But when love judges thee, 
and the judgement is (oh, horror I), Thy sins are forgiven thee'! 
Thy sins are forgiven thee and yet there is something (and this 
something is in thee, for where else in all the world could it find 
foothold when love forgives all ?), there is something in thee which 
makes thee sensible that they are not forgiven. What, then, is the 
horror of the sternest judgement in comparison with this horror? 
What is the stern sentence of wrath, calling down a curse, in 
comparison with this sentence: 'Thy sins are forgiven thee'? So 
justice indeed is almost gentler, which says as thou sayest, 'No, 
they are not forgiven'. What is the suffering of 'the fratricide' 
when he fled from place to place for fear of being recognized by 
the 'mark' of justice which condemned him what is this suffer- 
ing compared to the tortures of the unfortunate one who heard, 
'Thy sins are forgiven thee', and heard it not as salvation but as 
condemnation? Thy sins are forgiven thee! Frightful severity! 
That love, that it is love, pardoning love, which, not censoriously, 
no, itself suffering thereby, is thus transformed into judgement 
and condemnation; that love, pardoning love, which would not, 
as justice does, reveal guilt, but on the contrary would hide it by 
pardoning and forgiving, that it is this nevertheless which, alas, 



A WORD OF CONDEMNATION 13 

itself suffering thereby, reveals guilt more frightfully than justice 
does! Think of the thought expressed by 'self-condemned/ 
'The man is self-condemned', says justice, 'there is no forgiveness 
for him' ; and thereby it thinks of his many sins, for justice can 
hide nothing. Love says, 'The man is self-condemned 1 --thinking 
thereby not of his many sins, oh, no, it is willing to forget them all, 
it has forgotten them all, and yet, *He is self-condemned*, says 
love. Which is the more terrible? Surely the latter, which sounds 
indeed like the speech of madness ; for he is not accused of his 
many sins, no, the accusation is that they are forgiven him, that 
everything is forgiven. Think of a sinner who is sinking into 
the abyss, listen to his anguished cry when with his last groan he 
justified the righteousness which his life had mocked, and says, 
'The punishment is deserved, I am self-condemned'. Terrible! 
There is but one thing more terrible, if it is not justice he addresses 
but love, and says, 'I am self-condemned'. Justice will not be 
mocked, and love, verily, still less. Sterner than the sternest 
judgement against the greatest sinner is love's saying, 'To him 
but little is forgiven because he loves but little', 

To whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. This is a word 
of condemnation, but also a word of comfort. 

I know not, my hearer, what evil thou didst do, what thy guilt, 
what thy sins are; but of one fault we are all guilty more or less; 
of loving too little. So comfort thyself with this word, as I com- 
fort myself with it. And how do I comfort myself? I comfort 
myself with the thought that this word has. nothing to say about 
the divine love, but only about mine. It does not say that now the 
divine love has grown weary of being love, that now it has changed, 
weary as it were of squandering indescribable compassion upon 
an ungrateful race or upon ungrateful me, and that now it has 
become something different, a lesser love, its heart cooled because 
love became cold in the ungrateful race of men or in ungrateful 
me. No, about this the Word says nothing whatever. And be 
comforted as I am by what ? By this, that the reason the Word 
does not say this is that the holy Word does not lie, so that it is 
not by accident or cruel design that the Word is silent about this, 
whereas in fact it is true that God's lave has become weary of 
loving. No, if the Word does not say it, then it is not so; and 



14 THE SAME LOVETH LITTLE 

even if the Word said it nay, God's Word cannot say it, 
because the Word cannot lie. Oh, most blessed comfort in the 
deepest sorrow! If in truth God's love had changed, and thou 
not knowing of this, but concerned about thyself for the fact that 
hitherto thou hadst loved but little, wert to strive with pious 
resolution to kindle the love within thee to a flame, and with the 
same care wert to nourish the flame, and then, though with a 
feeling of shame for the imperfection of thy love, wouldst draw 
near to God to be reconciled with Him, as th6 Scripture expresses 
it, ... but He had changed! Think of a maiden in love; she 
acknowledges to herself with deep concern how little she has 
loved hitherto 'Now', she says to herself, *I will become sheer 
love'. And she succeeds; these tears of anguish which she sheds 
in concern about herself, these tears do not quench the fire, no, 
they are too hot for that; no, it is just these tears that bring the 
fire to a flame . . . but meanwhile the lover had changed, he was no 
longer loving. Oh, one deep concern for a man, just one may be 
enough more than this no man can bear! If when a man in 
deep self-concern has to acknowledge how little he has loved, 
he then were to be afflicted by the anguishing thought that God 
might have changed then, then indeed I should despair, and 
I should despair at once, for then there would be nothing to wait 
for either in time or in eternity. But therefore I comfort myself 
with this word, and I close every way of evasion, and I put aside 
all excuses and all palliations, and I lay bare my breast where I am 
to be wounded by the word which condemningly pierces me 
with the verdict, 'Thou has loved but little'. Oh, pierce even 
deeper, thou healing word, say, Thou hast not loved at all' 
even if the verdict is pronounced in these terms, I feel, in one 
sense, no pain, I feel an indescribable bliss; for precisely this 
condemnation of me, this sentence of death upon me and my 
paltry love, implies at the same time something different: that 
God is unchanging love, 1 

Thus it is I comfort myself. And I find hidden in the word a 

1 In August 1855, in the midst of his attack upon the Established Church, S. K. 
issued his last Discourse, dedicated as usual to his father, and entitled 'God's Un- 
changeableness'. A preface dated May 5, 1854, which was his birthday, states that 
it had been delivered in the Citadel Church on May 18,1851, i.e. shortly before the 
date of this sermon, and that it was a return to the text of his first Discourse, James I : 
17-21. 



A WORD OF COMFORT 15 

comfort which thou also, my hearer, ' must find precisely when 
thou hearest the word in such a way that it wounds thee. For it 
does not read, to whom little was forgiven, the same loved little; 
no, it reads, 'loves little*. Oh, when justice sits in judgement it 
draws up the account, it closes it, it uses the past tense, it says, 
'He loved little', and therewith pronounces that the case is for 
ever decided, 'we two are separated and have nothing to do with 
one another*. On the other hand, the Word, the Word of love, 
reads, 'To whom little is forgiven, the same loves little'. He 
loves little, yet he loves \ that is to say, so it is now, at this present 
instant more than this love does not say. Oh, infinite Love! 
that thou remainest true to Thyself even in Thy least utterance! 
He loves little now, at this instant, and what is the Now ? Swiftly, 
swiftly it is past, and now, in the next instant, everything is 
changed, now he loves, even if it be not much, yet he strives to 
love much; now all is changed, except love, it is unchanged, 
unchangeably the same love which lovingly has waited for him, 
which lovingly could not bear to close the case for him, could 
not bear to seek separation from him, but has remained with 
him, and now it is not justice which pronounces conclusively, 
'He loved little', now it is love which, rejoicing in heaven, 
says, 'He loved little', meaning to say that it is different now, that 
so it was once upon a time, but now he loves much. 

But substantially is it not true then that the forgiveness of sins 
is merited, if not by works, yet by love ? When it is said that to 
whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little, is it not implied that 
it is love which determines whether and in how far one's sins are 
to be forgiven so that the forgiveness of sins is merited! Oh, no. 
In the same passage of the Gospel, a bit earlier (v. 42 ff.), Christ 
speaks about two debtors, one of whom was greatly in debt, the 
other little, and both found forgiveness. He says, 'Which of them 
will love him most?' and the answer is, 'He to whom he forgave 
most'. Notice now how we do not enter the unblessed territory 
of meritoriousness, but how everything remains within the sphere 
of love! When thou dost love much, much is forgiven thee and 
when much is forgiven thee thou dost love much. Behold here the 
blessed law of the progressive recurrence of salvation in love! 
First thou dost love much, and much is forgiven thee oh, but 
see now how love exerts its influence more powerfully, the fact that 
so much was forgiven elicits in turn more love, and thou lovest 



1 6 THE SAME LOVETH LITTLE 

much, because much was forgiven thee ! It is with love as it is with 
faith. Think of one of the unfortunates whom Christ healed by a 
miracle. In order to be healed he must believe now he believes 
and is healed. Now he is healed and then faith becomes ^twice 
as strong, now that he is saved. It is not as though he believed, 
and then the miracle occurred, and then it was all over; no, the 
accomplishment increases his faith as much again, after the accom- 
plishment of the miracle his faith is doubly as strong as when he 
believed before being saved. And so.it is with this matter of 
loving much. Strong is the love, divinely strong in weakness, the 
love which loveth much and to which so much is forgiven ; but 
still stronger is the second instance of love, when the same love 
loves a second time, and loves because much was forgiven.^ 

My hearer, thou dost remember doubtless the beginning of 
this discourse. At this solemn moment it is possible to disturb 
the worshipper in two ways: either by talking about something 
inappropriate, even if the subject were important and the dis- 
course weighty; or by talking disturbingly about that which in 
such a moment is one's most immediate concern. *To whom little 
is forgiven, the same loveth little* this might seem disturbing 
just at the moment when thou art on the point of going up to the 
altar where thou art to receive the forgiveness of all thy sins. Oh, 
but as the edifying in its first instance is always dismaying, and as 
all true love in the first instance is always disquietude, so also that 
which seems to be a disturbance is not always disturbing; that 
which is in truth tranquillizing is always disquieting. But is 
there any comparison between these two dangers : that of being 
tranquillized in deceitful security; and that of being disquieted 
by being reminded of a disquieting thought ? Of what disquieting 
thought? Is it of that disquieting thought that also it can be for- 
given if hitherto one has loved but little? It is a singular thing, 
this matter of disquietude. He who is thoroughly educated by it 
does not, it is true, appear so strong as he who has remained without 
knowledge of it. But at the last instant, just by his feebleness, it 
is he perhaps who is the strongest, in the last instant, just by 
feebleness, he perhaps succeeds when the strongest fails to succeed. 

So may God bless this disquieting discourse, that it may have 
disquieted thee only for a good end, that tranquillized at the altar 
thou mightest be sensible that thou dost receive the gracious par- 
don of all thy sins. 



II 

l Peter 4: 8 



PRAYER 

O Lord Jesus Christ, the birds have their nests, the foxes their holes, and Thou 
didst not have whereon to lay Thy head, homeless wast Thou upon earth and yet 
a hiding-place, the only one, where a sinner could flee. And so to-day Thou art still 
the hiding-place; when the sinner flees to Thee, hides himself in Thee, is hidden In 
Thee then he is eternally defended, then 'love' hides the multitude of sins. 

i Peter 4: 8. LOVE SHALL HIDE THE MULTITUDE OF SINS 

THIS is true when it is a question of human love and in a 
double sense, as we have shown in another place. 1 The 
loving man, he in whom there is love, hides the multitude 
of sins, sees not his neighbour's fault, or, if he sees, hides it from 
himself and from others; love makes him blind, in a sense far 
more beautiful than this can be said of a lover, blind to his neigh- 
bour's sins. On the other hand, the loving man, he in whom there 
is love, though he has his faults, his imperfections, yea, though 
they were a multitude of sins, yet love, the fact that there is love 
in him, hides the multitude of sins. 

When it is a question of Christ's love, the word can be taken 
only in one sense ; the fact that He was love did not serve to hide 
what imperfection there was in Him in Him the holy One in 
whom there was no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth, this 
being inevitably so, because in Him there was only love, love in His 
heart and love only, in His every word, in all His work, in His 
whole life, in His death, until the very last. Ah, in a man love is 
not so perfect, and therefore, or rather nevertheless, he profits 
by his love : while he lovingly hides a multitude of sins, love does 
unto him as he unto others, it hides his sins. Thus he himself 
has need of the love which he shows to others, thus he profits 
by the love within him, which though it be directed outwardly 
to hide the multitude of sins, does not, however, like Christ's 
sacrificial love, embrace the whole world but only very few per- 
sons. Ah, though it is seldom enough a man is loving, yet 'what 
wonder', as a man might be tempted to say, 'what wonder a man 
endeavours to be loving, seeing that he himself is in need of love, 
and to that extent is really looking after his own interest by being 
loving'. But Christ was not in need of love. Suppose that He 
1 The Works of Love, Part II. v. 



LOVE HIDES THE MULTITUDE OF SINS 19 

had not been love, suppose that unlovingly He would only be 
what He was, the holy One, suppose that instead of saving the 
world and hiding the multitude of sins He had come into the 
world'to judge the world in holy wrath imagine this in order to 
conceive the more vividly that precisely to Him it applies in a 
singular sense that His love covered the multitude of sins> that 
this is 'love', that (as the Scripture says) only one is good, namely, 
God, and that thus He was the only one who in love hid the 
multitude of sins, not of some individuals but of the whole world. 

Let us then in the brief moment prescribed speak about this 
word: 

Love (Christ's love) hides the multitude of sins. 

And is it not true that thou hast felt the need, and to-day 
especially, of a love which is able to hide sins, to hide thy sins ? 
For this reason it is thou art come to-day to the Lord's altar. For 
though it is only too true, as Luther says, that every man has a 
preacher with him, who eats with him, drinks with him, wakes 
with him, sleeps with him, is always with him wheresoever he 
may be, whatsoever he has in hand, a preacher called flesh and 
blood, lusts and passions, custom and inclination yet it also is 
certain that every man has a confidant who is privy to his inmost 
thoughts, namely conscience. A man may succeed in hiding his 
sins from the world, he may perhaps rejoice foolishly in his 
success, or perhaps with a little more truthfulness he may ack- 
nowledge to himself that this is a pitiful weakness and cowardice, 
that he does not possess the courage to reveal himself but a man 
cannot hide his sins from himself. That is impossible; for the sin 
which was hid absolutely even from the man himself would indeed 
not be sin, any more than if it were hid from God, a thing which can- 
not be, inasmuch as a man so soon as he is conscious of himself, and 
in everything in which he is conscious of himself, is also conscious 
of God, and God of him. And for this reason conscience is so 
mighty and so precise in its reckoning, so ever-present, and so 
incorruptible, because this privy confidant which follows man 
everywhere is in league with God, this preacher which is with 
man when he wakes and when he sleeps (ah, if only it does not 
make him sleepless with its sermon!), with him everywhere, in 
the noisy bustle of the world (ah, if only it does not with its voice 
transform the world's noise into stillness!), in loneliness (ah, if 
only it does not hinder him from feeling alone in the most 



20 CHRIST'S LOVE 

solitary place !), in his daily work (ah, if only it does not estrange 
him from it and distract him!), in festal surroundings (ah, if only 
it does not make this seem to him a dismal prison !), in holy places 
(ah, if only it does not hold him back from going there!), this 
privy preacher which follows man, knowing privily what now, 
now at this instant, he does or leaves undone, and what long, 
long ago I do not say was forgotten, for this privy confidant, 
having a frightful memory, takes care of that but long, long 
ago was past. Man cannot escape from this confidant, any more 
than (according to the saying of the pagan poet 1 ) he can ride 
away from the sorrow which sits behind him on horseback, or 
any more (if one would give a different turn to the comparison) 
than it 'helps the deer to rush forward to escape the arrow lodged 
in its breast the more violently it moves forward, only the more 
deeply does it run the arrow into it*. 

To-day, however, thou art far indeed from wishing to make the 
vain attempt to flee from or avoid this privy preacher, thou hast 
given him leave to speak. For in the pulpit it is doubtless the 
parson that preaches, yet the true preacher is the confidant of 
thine inmost thoughts. The parson can only preach in general 
terms but the preacher within thee is exactly the opposite: he 
preaches solely and alone about thee, to thee, in thee. 

I would make no attempt to dismay men, being myself only 
too much dismayed; but whosoever thou art, even if thou art, 
humanly speaking, almost pure and blameless, when this privy 
preacher preaches before thee in thine inward man, thou also dost 
feel, what others perhaps sense with more dismay, thou also dost 
feel a need to hide thyself, and though it had been told thee a 
thousand times, and a thousand times again, that it is impossible 
to find this hiding-place, thou yet art sensible of the need. Oh, 
would it were possible for me to flee to a desert isle where 
never any man had come or would come; oh, that there were a 
place of refuge whither I could flee far away from myself, that 
there were a hiding-place where I am so thoroughly hid that not 
even the consciousness of my sin could find me out, that there 
were a frontier line, which were it never so narrow, would yet 
be a separation between my sin and me, that on the farther side of 
the yawning abyss there were a spot never so small where I might 
stand while the consciousness of my sin must remain on the other 
1 Horace: Odes, iii. i, 40. 



LOVE HIDES THE MULTITUDE OF SINS 21 

side, that there were a pardon, a pardon which does not make me 
increasingly sensible of my sin, but truly takes my sin from me, 
and the consciousness of it as well, would that there were oblivion I 1 
But such is actually the case, for love (Christ's love) hides the 
multitude of sins. Behold, all has become new ! What in paganism 
was sought after and sought in vain, what under the dominance 
of the Law was and is a fruitless effort that the Gospel made 
possible. At the altar the Saviour stretches out His arms, 
precisely for that fugitive who would flee from the consciousness 
of his sin, flee from that which is worse than pursuit, namely, 
gnawing remorse; He stretches out His arms. He says, "Come 
hither*, and the attitude of stretching out His arms is a way of 
saying, 'Come hither', and of saying at the same time, 'Love hides 
the multitude of sins'. Oh, believe Him! Couldst thou think 
that He who savingly opens His bosom for thee might be capable 
of playing upon words, capable of using a meaningless phrase, 
capable of deceiving thee, and at this precise instant that He 
could say, 'Come hither 7 , and the instant thou art come and He 
holds thee in His embrace it then might be as if thou wert entrapped, 
for here, just here there could be no forgetting, here . . . with the 
holy One ! No, this thou couldst not believe, and if thou didst 
believe it, thou wouldst not come hither but blessed is he who 
quite literally believes that love (Christ's love) hides the multitude 
of sins. For the loving man, yea, even the most loving, can only 
shut his -eyes to thy sins oh, but thine eye for them he cannot 
shut, A man can with loving speech and sympathy seek to miti- 
gate thy guilt in thine eyes also, and so hide it as it were from 
thee, or at least up to a certain point almost as it were hide it in a 
way from thee ah, but really to hide it from thee, literally to 
hide it from thee, so that it is hidden like what is hidden in the 
depths of the sea and which no one any more shall behold, 
hidden as when what was red as blood becomes whiter than snow, 
so hidden that sin is transformed to purity and thou canst dare to 
believe thyself justified and pure that is something only one can 
do, the Lord Jesus Christ, who hides the multitude of sins. A 
man has no authority, he cannot command thee to believe and 

1 The reader may need again to be apprised that it was only in the Easter ex- 
perience of 1 848 S. K. attained after so many years of penance ! that his sins 
were 'forgotten' by God as well as forgiven, and that it was his duty as well as his 
privilege to forget them. 



22 CHRIST'S LOVE 

merely by commanding help thee to believe. But authority is 
required even if it be to teach, and what authority must that be 
(greater even than the authority which bade the troubled waves 
be still) what authority is required to bid the despairing man, 
the man who in the tortures of repentance cannot and dare not 
forget, the contrite sinner who cannot and dare not cease to gaze 
upon his guilt, what authority is requisite to shut his eyes, and 
what authority to bid him open the eyes of faith so that he can see 
purity where he saw guilt and sin ! This divine authority is 
possessed only by Him, Jesus Christ, whose love hides the m'ulti- 
tude of sins. 

He hides them quite literally. When a man places himself in 
front of another and covers him entirely with his body so that no 
one at all can get a sight of him who is hidden behind so it is 
that Jesus Christ covers with his holy body thy sin. Though justice 
were to rage, what more can it want ? For satisfaction has indeed 
been made. Though the repentance within thee be so contrite 
that it thinks it a duty to aid external justice to discover thy 
guilt satisfaction indeed has been made, a- satisfaction, a 
vicarious satisfaction, which covers thy sin entirely and makes it 
impossible to see it, impossible for justice, and therewith im- 
possible for the repentance within thee or for thyself to see it, for 
repentance loses the sense of sight when justice to which it makes 
appeal says, *I can see nothing'. 

He hides them quite literally. As when the hen concerned 
for her brood gathers her chickens under her wing at the instant 
of danger, covering them completely and ready to give her life 
rather than deprive them of this sfielter which makes it impossible 
for the enemy's eye to discover them precisely thus does He 
hide thy sin. Precisely thus; for He too is concerned, infinitely 
concerned in love, ready to give His life rather than deprive thee 
of thy secure shelter under His love. Ready to give His life 
yet, no, it was just for this He gave His life, to assure thee of 
shelter under His love. Therefore not just like the hen, con- 
cerned indeed in the same way, but infinitely more concerned 
than the hen when she hides her chickens, but otherwise unlike, 
for He hides by His death. Oh, eternally secure; oh, Jblessedly 
reassuring hiding-place ! There is still one danger for the chickens ; 
although hidden, they are constantly in danger: when the mother 
has done her utmost, when out of love she has given her life, 



LOVE HIDES THE MULTITUDE OF SINS 23 

then are they deprived of their shelter. But He on the contrary 
true enough, if with His life He had covered thy sin, there would 
be possibility of the danger that He might be deprived of His 
life, and thou of thy shelter. It is quite different when with His 
death He covers thy sin. He would be ready (if such a thing were 
needful, if all had not been done decisively once for all) He 
would be ready to give His life again to procure for thee a shelter 
by His death, rather than that thou shouldst be deprived of the 
shelter. It is to be taken quite literally : He covers over thy sin just 
by covering it with His death. Death may dispose of a living 
man, but a dead man cannot possibly be thus disposed of, and so 
it is impossible that thou mightest be deprived of thy shelter. 
Infinite love! They talk about works of love, and many such 
works can be enumerated. But when they say *the work of love', 
then there is only one work, yea ? only one work, and thou knowest at 
once (strange as it may seem) precisely about whom they are 
speaking, about Him, Jesus Christ, about His atoning death, 
about Him who hides the multitude of sins. 

This is preached at the altar; for what is preached from the 
pulpit is essentially His life, but at the altar, His death. He died 
once for the sins of the whole world, and for thy sins; His death 
is not repeated, but Ms is repeated: that He died also for thee, 1 
for thee who dost receive the pledge that He died also for thee, 
this is repeated at the altar where He gives Himself to thee for a 
shelter. Oh, sure hiding-place for sinners! Oh, blessed hiding- 
place! especially if one has first learnt what it means when 
conscience accuses, and the Law condemns, and justice pursues 
with punishment, and then, when wearied unto despair, to find 
repose in the one shelter that is to be found! A man, even the 
most loving man, can at the most give thee extenuation and excuse, 
leaving it to thee to make what use of them thou art able; but 
himself he cannot give thee. That only Jesus Christ can do; 
He gives thee Himself as a shelter; it is not some comforting 
thought He gives thee, it is not a doctrine He communicates to 
thee; no, He gives thee Himself. As the night spreads con- 
cealment over everything, so did He give up His life and became a 
covering behind which lies a sinful world which He has saved. 

1 'Also for me* expressed S. K.'s joyful experience at his first conversion in 1838 
just after he had registered in his Journal the Hegelian reflection that 'Christ died 
for all', not for the single individual. 



24 CHRIST'S LOVE 

Through this covering justice does not break as the sun's rays 
break through coloured glass, merely softened by refraction; 
no, it impotently breaks against this covering, is reflected from 
it and does not pass through it. He gave Himself as a covering for 
the whole world, for thee as well, and for me. 

Therefore Thou, my Lord and Saviour, Thou whose love 
covers and hides the multitude of sins, when I am thoroughly 
sensible of my sin and of the multitude of my sins, when before 
the justice of heaven only wrath is pronounced upon me and 
upon my life, when on earth there is only one man whom to 
escape I would flee were it to the end of the world, and that man 
myself then I will not commence the vain attempt which leads 
only to despair or to madness, but at once I will flee unto Thee, 
and Thou wilt not deny me the shelter which Thou lovingly hast 
offered unto all, Thou wilt screen me from the eye of justice, 
save me from this man and from the memory with which he 
plagues me, Thou wilt help me as I become a transformed, 
another, a better man, to dare to abide in my shelter, forgotten 
by Justice and by that man I abhor. 

My hearer, to-day thou art come to seek the love which hides 
the multitude of sins, seeking it at the altar. From the minister 
of the Church thou hast received assurance of the gracious pardon 
of thy sins; at the altar thou dost receive the pledge of it. Ohj 
not this only; for thou dost not merely receive this pledge as thou 
mightest receive from a man a pledge that he has such-and-such 
a feeling for thee or purpose towards thee ; no, thou dost receive 
the pledge as a pledge that thou dost receive Him; in receiving 
the pledge thou dost receive Christ Himself, in and with the 
sensible sign He gives Himself to thee as a covering for thy sins. 
As He is the truth, thou dost not learn to know from Him what 
the truth is, to be left then to thine own devices, but thou dost 
remain in the truth only by remaining in Him; as He is the way, 
thou dost not learn from Him to know which way thou shalt go, 
and then being left to thine own devices canst go thine own way, 
but only by remaining in Him canst thou remain in the way; 
as He is life, thou dost not from Him have life given thee, and 
then canst shift for thyself, but only by remaining in Him hast 
thou life: so it is also that He is the covering; only by remaining 
in Him, only by living into Him, art thou in hiding, is there a 
cover over the multitude of thy sins. Hence the Lord's Supper is 



LOVE HIDES THE MULTITUDE OF SINS 25 

called Communion with Him; it is not merely in remembrance of 
Him, not merely a pledge that thou hast communion with Him, 
but it is the communion, the communion which thou shalt 
endeavour to maintain in thy daily life by more and more living 
thyself out of thyself and living thyself into Him, into His love 
who hides the multitude of sins. 



FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 
PROPOSED TO THIS AGE 

by 
S. Kierkegaard 



Copenhagen 

1851 
[Sept. 10.] 



* Since we have known the fear of the Lord, we seek to win 
men* (2 Cor. v. u). For to begin at once, or as thejfrst things 
to want to win men that perhaps might even be called un- 
godliness, at all events worldliness, not Christianity, any more 
than it is fearing God. No, let thy striving first express, let it 
express first and foremost, thy fear of God. This has been 
my striving. 

But Thou, O God, let me never forget that though I were 

to win not a single person if only my life expresses (for the 

protest of the mouth is deceitful !) that I fear Thee this means 

that *all is won !' And on the other hand, if my life (for the 
protest of the mouth is deceitful !) does not express that I fear 
Thee this means that 'all is lost !' 



In the summer of 1851 



PREFACE 

My dear reader: 

If it be possible, read aloud ! If thou art -willing to do that, let 
me thank thee for It; if thou wilt not only do that thyself but -wilt also 
prompt others to do it, let me thank each one severally and thank 
thee again and again ! By reading 1 aloud thou wilt receive the impres- 
sion most strongly that thou hast to do here only with thyself, not 
with me, for I am without authority, and not with any other people 
at all, for that would be a distraction. 

August 1851, S. K. 



CONTENTS 

Preliminary Remarks ..... Page 35 

I 

HOW TO DERIVE TRUE BENEDICTION FROM BEHOLDING 

ONESELF IN THE MIRROR OF THE WORD . . 39 

5th Sunday after Easter 

II 

CHRIST is THE WAY . . . . . 75 

Ascension Day 

III 

IT is THE SPIRIT THAT GIVETH LIFE . . . >, 91 

Pentecost 



I 

HOW TO DERIVE TRUE BENEDICTION 

FROM BEHOLDING ONESELF 
IN THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 

James i : 22. to the end 
Fifth Sunday after Easter 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS 

THERE is a saying which often comes into my mind, the 
saying of a man to whom I as a Christian cannot, it is true, 
be said to owe anything, for he indeed was a pagan, but 
to whom I personally owe much, a man who lived under condi- 
tions which, as I think, correspond exactly to the conditions of our 
age I mean the simple wise man of olden time. 1 It is related of 
him that when he was accused before the people, there came to him 
an orator who handed him a carefully prepared speech of defence. 
The simple wise man took it and read it. Thereupon he gave it 
back to the orator and said, *It is a fine and well-composed 
speech* (so it was not because the speech was a poor one that he 
gave it back), 'but,' he continued, *I am now seventy years old, 
so I consider that it would not be becoming of me to make use of 
the art of an orator.* What did he mean by this ? First of all he 
meant: my life is too serious to be profitably served by the art of 
an orator; I have staked my life; even if I am not eventually 
condemned to death, I have staked my life, and in the service of 
the Deity I have performed my mission so I would not now, 
at the last moment, destroy the impression of myself and of my 
life by means of artful orators or oratorical arts. In the next 
place he meant: the thoughts, ideas, concepts, which in the course 
of twenty years (so long has the time been), when I was known to 
all, ridiculed by your comic poets, regarded as an eccentric, con- 
stantly attacked by 'nameless persons' (such are his very words), 2 
I have developed in conversation with every sort of person in the 
market-place these thoughts were my very life, they have been 
my concern early and late, if they have been of concern to no one 
else, at least they have concerned me infinitely, and at times (as 
you observed with wonder) when I have been capable of gazing 
steadily for a whole day at nothing, I was preoccupied with these 
thoughts and so I think that, without the aid of artful orators 
or oratorical arts, if on the day of my trial I am inclined to say 

1 This of course is Socrates. The story which follows, about the orator Lysias, is 
derived from Cicero's de Qratoria, 

2 Plato's Apology > 18 c. S. K. thinks how aptly this applies to the anonymous 
attacks in the Corsair from which he had suffered. 



3 6 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

anything at all, I shall be capable of uttering a few words; for the 
mere fact that presumably I shall be condemned to death does not 
essentially alter the situation, and what I shall say will naturally 
remain the same and about the same thing and in the same way 
as hitherto, just as yesterday I talked with the tanner in the market- 
place these few words, it seems to me, I can say well enough 
without preparation or any man's assistance; of course I am not 
entirely without preparation, for I have been preparing myself 
for twenty years, nor am I entirely without assistance, since I 
count upon the assistance of the Deity. But, as I have said, these 
few words , . . as for that, I do not deny that 'these few words' 
may become more prolix, but if I were to live twenty more years 
I should continue to talk about the same things I have constantly 
talked about, in any case artful orators and oratorical arts are not 
for me. Oh, thou most serious of men! Misunderstood, thou 
wast obliged to drain the poisoned goblet. Thou wast not under- 
stood. Then for over two thousand years thou hast been admired 
'but have I been understood ?' is a true word. 

And now about preaching! Ought it not also to be as serious ? 
He who is to preach ought to live in the thoughts and conceptions 
of Christianity; this should be his daily life if such is the case, 
then (as Christianity teaches) thou also shalt have eloquence 
enough, and just what is needed, when thou dost speak straight- 
forwardly without special preparation. On the other hand, it is 
a false eloquence, if without being concerned with these thoughts 
or living in them, one sits down from, time to time to make a 
collection of such thoughts, culling them perhaps in the field, of 
literature, and working them up together into a well-developed 
discourse, which then is learned perfectly by rote and is admirably 
delivered, both with respect to elocution and with respect to the 
movements of the arms. No, just as in a well-appointed house 
one is not obliged to go downstairs to fetch water, but by pressure 
already has it on the upper floors merely by turning the tap, so 
too is with the real Christian orator, who, just because Christianity 
is his life, has eloquence, and precisely the right eloquence, close 
at hand, immediately present to him however, it goes without 
saying that the intent of this is not to allot a place of honour to 
twaddlers, certain as it is that it is without preparation, the twadd- 
lers twaddle. Moreover, the Scripture saith^ 'Swear not at all, 
let your speech be Yea and Nay, whatsoever is more than this is 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 37 

of the evil one.' So also there is an art of oratory which is of the 
evil one, when it is treated as the higher, when in fact it is the 
lower. For the sermon ought not to establish an invidious 
distinction between the talented and the untalented, it ought 
rather in the unity of the Holy Ghost to fix attention exclusively 
upon the requirement that actions must correspond with words. 
Thou simple man, even if thou wert of all men the most limited 
in case thy life expresses the little thou hast understood, thou dost 
speak more potently than the eloquence of all orators! And thou 
woman, although thou art entirely mute in gracious silence 
in case thy life expresses what thou hast heard, thine eloquence 
is more potent than the art of all orators ! 

Such is the case. But let us beware of grasping at what is too 
high ; for because it is true, it does not follow that we are able to 
do it. And thou, my hearer, wilt reflect that the more lofty the 
conception of religion is, the more stern it is; but from this it does 
not follow that thou canst bear it, it would perhaps be to thee an 
occasion of offence and of perdition. Perhaps thou art still in 
need of this lower form of the religious, requiring a certain art 
in the presentation of it to render it more attractive. The strictly 
religious man is one whose life is essentially action and his 
presentation of religion is far more impertinent and more lenten 
than the more perfectly composed oration. If thou, my hearer, 
art of this mind, then accept this book and read it for edification. 
It is not to be ascribed to my perfection ? nor to thine, that this 
discourse is composed as it is; on the contrary, it is (from a godly 
standpoint) an imperfection and a weakness. I acknowledge 
and thou too, wilt thou not? my imperfection; and so thou wilt 
acknowledge thine not to me, no, that is not required, but to 
thyself and to God. Alas, we who call ourselves Christians are, 
Christianly understood, so coddled, so far from . being what 
Christianity requires of them that call themselves Christians, men 
who have died to the world ; we have hardly even a notion of that 
sort of seriousness, we cannot yet dispense with or renounce the ' 
artistic presentation and its soothing effect, cannot endure the 
true impression of reality well then, let us at least be honest and 
admit it. If some one does not straightway understand what I say 
here and what is intended by it, let him be slow to judge, let him 
take his time, we shall soon get closer to the subject Ah, but 
whoever thou art, have confidence, surrender thyself. There is no 



38 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

question of any force I might employ I the most powerless of 
men but there shall not even be employed the least persuasion 
or craft or guile or allurement to draw thee so far out that thou 
mightest (as nevertheless for all that thou surely oughtest not, 
and surely wouldst not if thy faith were great) thou mightest 
regret that thou didst surrender thyself; believe me (I say it to 
my own shame), I also am too much coddled. 



THE EPISTLE IS WRITTEN IN THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ST. JAMES 
BEGINNING WITH THE TWENTY-SECOND VERSE 

But be ye doers of the Word, and not hearers only, 
deceiving your own selves. For if any be a hearer of the 
Word and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his 
natural face in a mirror: for he beholdeth himself, and 
goeth away, and straightway forgetteth what manner of 
man he was. But he that looketh into the perfect law, the 
law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a 
forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this man shall be 
blessed in his deed. If any man among you seems to be 
religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own 
heart, this man's religion is vain. Pure religion and unde- 
filed before God and the Father, is this, To visit the father- 
less and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself un- 
spotted from the world. 

PRAYER 

Father in heaven, what is man that Thou visitest him, and the son of man that Thou 
art mindful of him ? and in every way, in every respect I Verily, Thou didst never leave 
Thyself without a witness? and at last Thou didst give to man Thy Word. More thou 
couldst not doj to compel him to make use of it, to hear it or read it, to compel him to act 
according to it, Thou couldst not wish. Ah, and yet Thou didst do more. For Thou 
art not like a man rarely does he do anything for nothing, and if he does, he at least 
would not be put to inconvenience by it. Thou, on the contrary, O God, bestowest Thy 
Word as a gift and we men have nothing to give in return. And if only Thou dost find 
some willingness on the part of the single individual, Thou art prompt to help, and first of 
all Thou art the one who with more than human, yea, with divine patience, dost sit and 
spell it out with the individual, that he may be able rightly to understand the Word 5 and 
next Thou art the one who, again with more than human, yea, with divine patience, dost 
take him as it were by the hand and help him when he strives to do accordingly Thou 
our Father in heaven. 

TIMES differ and even though, it often is the case with times' 
as with a man who is completely changed but remains as 
mad as ever, only in a new form nevertheless it is perfectly 
true that times differ, and different times demand different things. 
There was a time when the Gospel, the Gospel of grace, was 
transformed into a new law, more severe towards man than the 



40 ' FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

old law. Everything had become in a way torturing, laborious, 
and reluctant, almost as if (in spite of the angels' song at the first 
introduction of Christianity) there was no joy either in heaven 
or on earth. By their narrow-minded self-torture, people had (in 
revenge!) made God just as narrow-minded. They went into 
monasteries and stayed there oh, yes, it is true, this was 
voluntary, and yet it was bondage, for it was not truly voluntary, 
they were not content, not glad to be there, not free, and yet they 
had not frankheartedness enough to let the thing alone or to leave 
the monastery again and become free. Good works had become 
everything. 1 And like unwholesome excrescences, upon trees, so 
were these works spoiled by unwholesome excrescences, which 
often were merely hypocrisy, the vain conceit of meri toriousness, or 
simply idleness. Precisely here is where the fault lay, not so much in 
the works. For let us not exaggerate, let us not use the error of 
another age as the occasion of a new error. No, take away from 
works this unwholesomeness and untruth, and let us then merely 
retain good works in sincerity, in humility, and in serviceable 
activity. That is to say, with these works it should be as when, for 
example, a bellicose youth, in view of a dangerous undertaking, 
comes voluntarily to the commander and begs, 'Oh, may I not have 
leave to get into it ?' If in this wise a man were to say to God, 
'Oh, may I not have leave to give all my goods to the poor ? That 
there might be anything meritorious in it oh, no! I recognize 
in deep humility that if ever I am to become blessed, it is by grace 
I shall be saved, just like the robber on the cross ; but may I not 
have leave to do it, so that I can work solely for the extension of 
God's kingdom among my fellow men?' Then, yes (to speak 
in a Lutheran way), in defiance of Satan, of the newspapers, of 
'the highly esteemed public' (for the Pope is no longer a menace), 
in defiance of the sensible ecclesiastical or worldly objections of 
all shrewd men and women, in spite of all this it is well pleasing 
to God. But it was not thus at the time of which we were speak- 
ing. 

Then there stepped forth a man, Martin Luther, from God and 
with faith. With faith (for verily faith was needed for the task) 

1 The reader may need to be reminded that S. K. hesitated to publish his Works 
of Love for fear of scandalizing the Lutheran orthodoxy which insisted upon the 
doctrine of 'faith alone*. It may be remarked also that, in spite of the tone of this 
passage, the monastic life had a powerful attraction for him. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 41 

or by faith he reinstated faith in its rights. His life was an ex- 
pression of works let us not forget that but he said, 'A man is 
saved by faith alone/ The danger was great. How great it was 
in Luther's eyes is shown most conspicuously by the conclusion 
he came to, that in order to put, things to rights the Apostle 
James must be shoved aside. Just think of Luther's reverence 
for an Apostle! and then that he must venture to do such a 
thing as this to get faith reinstated in its rights! 1 

In the meantime, what came to pass ? There is always with us 
a worldliness which would have the name of being Christian, but 
would have it at a price as cheap as possible. This worldliness 
became observant of Luther. It listened, and it took the pre- 
caution to listen a second time for fear it might have heard amiss, 
and thereupon it said, 'Capital! That suits us exactly. Luther 
says, 'It is faith alone that matters'; the fact that his life expresses 
works he does not himself say, and now he is dead, so that this is 
no longer an actuality. Let us take then his word, his doctrine 
and we are liberated from all works. Long live Luther ! 

Wer nicht liebt Weiber, Wein, Gesang, 
der bleibt ein Narr sein Leben lang. 2 

'This is th significance of Luther's life, that man of God who 
so OP portunery reformed Christianity.' And although all did not 
take Luther in vain quite in so worldly a way yet every man has 
a disposition either to want to have merit from works when they 
are to be done; <?r, when faith and grace are to be stressed, to 
want to be as far as possible liberated entirely from works. 'Man', 
this rational creation of God, verily will not suffer himself to be 
hoaxed; he is not like a rustic who comes to the fair; no, he has 
his eyes about him. 'No, either the one thing or the other', says 
man. *If it is to be works, very well, but I beg you to take Into 
consideration the lawful profit which accrues to me from my work, 
as meritorious work. If it is to be grace, very well, but then I 
would beg to be exempted from works, otherwise it is not grace. 
If it is to-be works and grace at the same time, it is nothing but 

1 As early as 1519 Luther Inveighed against the Epistle of St. James. He called 
it 'an epistle of straw'. It is significant that S. K. found in this Epistle his favourite 
texts. 

2 *Who loves not woman, wine, and song remains a fool his whole life long.* 
These verses were first attributed to Luther (perhaps falsely) in 1775, in 
becker Hot he ^ No. 7 5 . 



42 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

madness/ Yes*,, indeed, it is madness, so was true Lutheranism 
aJsjDj and so was Christianity. Christianity's requirement is : Thy 
life shall as strenuously as possible give expression to works 
and then one thing more is required: that thou humble thyself 
and admit, 'But none the less I am saved by grace/ People 
abhorred the medieval error of merit. When one looks deeper into 
the matter, one will readily perceive that they had perhaps even 
a greater conception of the meritoriousness of works than the 
Middle Ages had; but they applied 'grace' in such a way as to 
exempt them from works. When they had done away with 
works, they could not very well be tempted to regard the works 
they didn't do as meritorious. Luther wanted to take away the 
meritoriousness from works and apply it in a somewhat different 
place, namely, to witnessing for the truth. Worldliness, which 
understood Luther radically, did away entirely with meritorious- 
ness and with works along with it. 

And where are we now ? I am 'without authority' ; far be it from 
me to condemn anybody at all. But since I want to have light 
thrown on this matter, I will take myself and test my life by a 
purely Lutheran definition of faith: 'Faith is a perturbing thing'. 1 
I assume here that Luther has risen from his grave. He has been 
among us, though unrecognized, for several years, has watched 
the life we lead, has been observant of all the others, and also of 
me. I assume that one day he addresses me and says, 'Art thou 
a believer? Hast thou faith?' Everyone who knows me as an 
author will recognize that I after all am the one who might come 
out best from such an examination; for I have constantly said, 
'I have not faith' like a bird's anxious flight before the approach- 
ing tempest, so have I expressed the presentiment of stormy 
confusion, 'I have not faith.' This therefore I might say to 
Luther. I might say, *No, my dear Luther, at least I have shown 
thee this deference, that I declare I have not faith.' However, 
I will'ilot lay stress upon this; but as all the others call themselves 
Christians and believers, I also will say, 'Yes, I am a believer', 
for otherwise I shall be throwing no light upon the matter I want 
to see illuminated. So I answer, 'Yes, I am a believer.' 'How is 
that?' replies Luther, 'for I have not noticed anything in thee, 
and yet I have watched thy life; and thou knowest, faith is a 
perturbing thing. To what effect has faith, which thou sayest 
1 Luther, Werke> Erlangen ed., xiv, pp. 42 ff. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 43 

thou hast, perturbed thee? Where hast thou witnessed for the 
truth, and where against untruth ? What sacrifices hast thou made, 
what persecutions hast thou endured for Christianity ? And at 
home, in the family life, how has thy self-sacrifice and abnegation 
been observable? My reply: 'I can protest to you that I have 
faith/ Trotest, protest what sort of talk is that? With respect 
to having faith, no protestation is needed, if one has it (for faith 
is a perturbing thing which is at once observable), and no pro- 
testation is of any avail, if one does not have it/ 'Yes, but if only 
thou wilt believe me, I can protest as solemnly as possible, . . / 
'Bah, an end to this nonsense! What avails thy protestation?' 
*Yes, but if thou wouldst read some of my books, thou wilt see 
how I describe faith, so I know therefore that I must have it/ 'I 
believe the fellow is mad ! If it is true that thou dost know how to 
describe faith, it only proves that thou art a poet, and if thou 
canst do it well, it proves that thou art a good poet; but this is 
very far from proving that thou art a believer. Perhaps thou 
canst also weep in describing faith, that would prove then that 
thou art a good actor. Thou dost remember surely the story of the 
actor of olden times who was able to impersonate the moving 
roles to such a degree that he was still weeping when he came 
home from the theatre and wept for several days afterwards 
that only proves that he was a good actor. No, my friend, faith 
is a perturbing thing ; it is health, and yet it is stronger and more 
violent than the hottest fever, and it is useless for a sick man to 
asseverate that he has no fever when the physician feels his pulse, 
or for a well man to say that he has a fever when the physician by 
feeling his pulse feels that it is not true so also when one feels no 
pulse of faith in thy life, it means that thou hast no faith. 3hen 
on th^otbsr^hand, one is sensible^ of ^he^ert^b^ion^^jth^as 
tKe ulse of ^jlue^^Q^Wou^nst^c ^id^to^vt^^^^Jp 
*witoess^^ whafpreacElng 

really is. Tor to pre'ach Joes not f mean to describe faith in books, 
nor to describe it in 'quiet hours in church*. As I have said in 
one of my sermons, Troperly, one ought not to preach in churches, 
but in the street*, 1 and the preacher should not be an actor but a 
witness that is, faith, this perturbing thing, ought to be recog- 
nizable in his life/ 

1 Kirchenposttlh* Epistelpredigten* Werke, Erlangen ed., vii, p. 212. Note that 
Bishop Mynster was famous for his 'quiet hours in church*. 



44 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

Yes, faith is a perturbing thing. In order to direct a little 
attention to this trait, let me describe the perturbation of faith 
in the case of such a hero of faith or witness for the truth. So then 
there is a given reality; this there is indeed every instant. These 
thousands and thousands and millions, all of them tending to their 
own business, the public official to his, the artist to his, the trades- 
man to his, the scandalmonger to his, the idler not less busily to 
his, and so forth, everyone tending to his own business in this 
intersecting play of manifold interests which constitutes reality. 
At the same time, there sits, in a cloister cell like Luther, or in a 
remote chamber, a solitary man in fear and trembling and much 
trial of temptation. A solitary man ! There indeed, lies the truth. 
For it is falsehood these times of ours have discovered when they 
conceive that reforms issue from numbers (the numerical), the 
crowd, or from the 'highly esteemed' and 'highly esteemed cul- 
tured public' I mean religious reforms, for in the matter of 
street-lighting and the service of transportation the reform most 
likely issues from the public; but that a religious reformation 
might issue from the public is a falsehood, a seditious falsehood. 
So there sits a solitary man in temptation. Perhaps I enjoy some 
recognition in my day for my knowledge of souls (psychology) ; 
I can testify that I have seen men of whom I venture to say that 
they had doubtless been much exposed to alluring temptations 
(Fristehe)\ but never have I seen anyone of whom I could venture 
to say that he was assaulted by trials of deterrent temptation 
(Anfegtehe). And yet to be exposed for a year to alluring tempta- 
tions is nothing in comparison with one hour in the assault of 
deterrent temptation. So there sits that solitary man or perhaps, 
if you prefer it, he walks back and forth on the floor like a captive 
beast in a cage; and yet what he is caught in is marvellous, he is 
by God, or at God's instigation, caught in himself. Now what he 
has beforehand suffered in the trial of faith must be put into 
terms of real life. Dost thou imagine he is eager for it ? Verily, 
everyone who comes jubilantly along this path is not one of the 
'called', you may be sure. Of the called there is none that would 
not prefer to be exempted, none that would not beg and beseech 
for himself like a child, and who has not begged ; but it was of no 
avail, he must go on. So he knows that now when he takes the 
step the terror erects itself. He who is not called the moment 
the terror erects itself he flees. But he who is called oh, my 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 45 

friend, more than willingly would he flee, shuddering before the 
terror; but when he has already turned to flee he sees behind him 
he sees the still greater horror, the horror of the trial of faith, 
he must go on so on he goes, he is now quite calm, for ah, the 
horror of the trial of temptation is a terrible task-master, it bestows 
courage. The terror erects itself. Everything which belongs 
entirely to the given reality arms itself against this man of trials 
whom no one can make afraid, for the strange reason that he is so 
much afraid before God. They attack him, hate him, curse him. 
The few who are devoted to him cry out, 'Oh, spare thyself, thou 
dost make thyself unhappy and all of us ; oh, hold up, do not arouse 
the terror more strongly, check the word which is upon thy lips, 
or rather recall the last word/ Oh, my hearer, faith is a perturbing 
thing. So it is to be supposed perhaps that I preach riot, the 
overturning of everything, disorder? No every one who is 
acquainted with my literary works must be content with this 
assertion. Every one who knows my literary works must know 
that I have laboured in the opposite direction. 

But from the Christian point of view there are two kinds of 
disorder. The one is rioting, exterior hubbub. The other is the 
stillness of death, dissolution, and this perhaps is the most 
dangerous. 

Against this latter I have worked, and I have worked to awaken 
disquietude with the aim of effecting inward change. Let me 
define exactly where I am, so to speak. Among us is a very rever- 
end old man, the primate of the clergy of this Church. 1 What he, 
or his 'sermons', have wanted to effect is the same thing that I 
want, only with a stronger emphasis, which is accounted for by 
my personal difference and what the difference of the time de- 
mands. Among us there are some who 2 require that to be Chris- 
tians in the strictest sense they must be such in contrast to the 
rest of us. I have not been able to join them. In part my ob- 
jection is that their lives do not come up to the measure they 
themselves suggest or even compel one to apply when they 
emphasize so strongly that they are Christians. To me, however, 
this is the less important consideration. In part I am not enough 
of a Christian to dare to join those who make such a requirement. 
If it be that I am perhaps a little (yea, even if I were perhaps not 

1 Mynster. 

2 The followers of Grundtvig S. K.*s brother Peter among them. 



46 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

merely a little) more advanced than sundry of the average persons 
among us it is only poetically that I am in advance, that is to 
say, I know better what Christianity is, and know better how to 
present it ah, but this (remember what Luther said to me!) is a 
very unessential difference. Essentially I belong to the average. 
And here it is I have laboured for disquietude in the direction of 
inwardness. 

For from the Christian point of view there are two kinds of 
true disquietude. The disquietude in the heroes of the faith and 
the witnesses for the truth who aim to reform the established 
order. So far as that I have never ventured out, that is not my 
affair. 1 And whenever anyone in our time might seem to want 
to venture so far out, I was not disinclined to enter into a polemic 
against him, 2 by way of contributing to reveal whether he was 
the legitimate reformer. The other kind of disquietude has to do 
with inward reformation. A true love-affair also is a disquieting 
thing, but it does not occur to the lover to want to change the 
established order. 

For this disquietude in the direction of inward change I have 
laboured. But 'without authority'. Instead of being emptily 
puffed up to the point of giving myself out to be a witness for 
the truth and encouraging others to wish rashly to be the same, 
I am an unauthoritative poet who moves people by means of the 
ideals. As such then, that I may give example of it at once, and 
at the same time show, among other things, how I employ the 
heroes of the faith. . . . Thou, my hearer, callest thyself 'surely a 
Christian. Well then, thou knowest that what is the most certain 
of all things and at the same time the most uncertain, that is, 
death, will some day approach thee also, and it will be the death 
of thee. Thou, however, art a Christian, hoping and believing 
that thou art to be blessed, just as blessed as any witness for the 
truth 3 or any hero of the faith, in spite of the fact that he had to 

1 It must be remembered that after the lapse of a few years he had the courage to 
venture so far out and attack the 'established order 7 . 

2 S. K. has here especially in mind his polemic against Dr. Rudelbach, who had 
appealed to his works in support of a revolutionary movement m the Church. This 
was a welcome assistance to Bishop Mynster. 

3 When Professor Martensen, in his panegyric upon Bishop Mynster, proclaimed 
that he was 4 a genuine witness for the truth, one of that long line of witnesses which 
stretches from the Apostles' age to ours*, he could not have been unaware of the 
exalted significance S. K. attached to this tide. S. K. naturally regarded it as a 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 47 

purchase the title of Christian at a far higher price. Perhaps in 
consideration of this one who is equipped with authority might 
speak to thee in a different way, terrifying thee by saying that it 
was a vain fancy on thy part that thou art a Christian, that thou 
art on the path to hell. Far be it from me to represent this as an 
exaggeration on the part of the authoritative teacher; no, I under- 
stand only too well what effort is required in order to dare to 
venture to apply such an either/or to another man. But I, the 
unauthoritative poet, dare not speak thus; I suppose that thou 
art to be just as blessed as any of the witnesses for the truth, any 
of the heroes of the faith. But in view of this I say to thee: Just 
think now of thy life in contrast with the life of such a one. Think 
what he had to sacrifice, he that sacrificed his all: that which in 
the first instance seemed hardest to sacrifice; and that which in 
the long run seemed the hardest to have sacrificed. 1 Think what 
he has suffered, how bitter it was, and how long drawn out ! Oh, 
if thou art living happily in a beloved home, where thy wife is 
devoted to thee with all her heart and with all her might, and 
where thou hast delight in thy children consider what it means 
to live on day after day in this peace and repose which is so 
beneficial to a man's soul, more beneficial than is the subdued light 
of evening to weak eyes, and that such is thy daily life. And then 
think of the witness for the truth! And if thou art living, not in 
idleness, far from it, but in such circumstances that thy labour 
which takes thy time, thy diligence, thy strength, yet takes only so 
much of it that not only is there sufficient repose from labour, but 
the labour itself is often as refreshing as a pastime ; and if thou 
art living, if not in opulence, yet with an ample competence, and 
hast time for the many enjoyments which refreshingly occupy the 
time and give a new zest for life, in short, if thy daily life is serene 
enjoyment ah, his life was painful suffering then you both 

challenge, and he promptly accepted it as the signal he was waking for to begin the 
open attack upon the Established Church. S. K. denied to the very kst that he ac- 
counted himself *a witness for the truth', and yet what he did with an assured air of 
authority, and died in doing, corresponds perfectly to the picture he had formed of 
the 'witness*, and already in this paragraph there are evident reflections upon the 
hardships of his own life which suggest that at this time, when he was on the point of 
Venturing so far out', he had begun to think of himself as one who might become a 
'witness'. 

1 Phrasing this thought as he does here, I have no doubt that S. K. was thinking 
of his sacrifice of Regina. 



48 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

die and become equally blessed! Ah, if it so be that in happy 
obscurity thou canst rejoice in life, and art allowed undisturbed 
and unobserved to be thyself; and if, just by reason of thine 
obscurity 3 thou hast often opportunity to learn to know men from 
their better, their favourable, their lovable side; and if in moving 
in the swarm thou dost encounter, either strangers who know thee 
not, or the kindly and sympathetic glances of those who know 
thee; 1 and if when thou findest opportunity to do another a ser- 
vice, a good turn, thou art then rewarded by so much joy that it 
is a question whether thou hast not done a service, a good turn, 
to thyself; and if, thine own life being easily understood by thee, 
thou dost easily understand others and art easily understood 
ah, he must day in and day out (as a thing inseparable from this 
work of his) be devoured as it were and eaten up by this human 
gossip which with insatiable hunger is always craving something 
to chatter about; he must daily, year after year, learn to know men 
from (to speak in the mildest terms) their bestial side, and some- 
times from the side of the deepest depravity; agrla and again he 
must be made conscious that he is known to every one, as he can 
ascertain by the fact that in everybody's glance he encountered 
ill-will, opposition, bitterness, scorn, &c. He did well by his 
whole generation and was rewarded by the curses of the whole 
generation; amidst the tortures of his trial of temptation he must 
laboriously acquire an understanding of his own life, and then 
he must laboriously, day after day, work his way through all the 
misunderstandings of his contemporaries, and through all the tor- 
tures of misunderstanding then you both die, and you become 
equally blessed! Reflect upon this, and surely thou wilt then saj 

1 One unacquainted with the Journal may be ir redi ous of the assertion that 
one of the hardships S. K. most bitterly complained 01 was his notoriety not merely 
the humiliating notoriety which the lampoons of the Corsair inflicted upon him, but 
also the favourable notoriety he had won as an author. He complained that in the 
street there was no stranger who did not recognize him, and too often he suspected 
a hostile or envious intention in the glances of acquaintances. So he longed for 
obscurity such obscurity as he had enjoyed as a youth in Copenhagen. Gold- 
schmidt recognized sagaciously that he died opportunely at the moment when his 
attack upon the Established Church had made him again a popular figure, for the 
last thing he could endure was popularity, What follows in the text, about the 
'misunderstanding' the witness for the truth must encounter, describes again his own 
case perhaps better than that of the 'witness-* and one cannot but reflect that this 
misfortune was in part his own fault. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 49 

to thyself what I say to myself: 'Whether it be that I shall venture 
so far out, or whether I shall pamper myself and not venture out at 
all, one thing I will do, I shall find the time, however much 
business I have in hand, to remember this glorious one every 
single day. Oh, it seems to me an injustice which cries to heaven, 
that we two should become equally blessed ! But my life, in any 
case, shall be a memento of him!* And behold, here thou hast 
at once an example of a movement which is disquietude in the 
direction of inward reformation. 

And this disquietude is the least, the mildest, the lowest form 
of godliness. And yet dost thou think that we are so perfect that 
there is no need for anyone to labour for this ? Remember how 
I fared with Luther. If others would fare like me were Luther to 
come to them, I do not know. 

But imagine Luther in our age, observant of our situation. 
Dost thou not believe that he would say, a^ he says in one of his 
sermons, 'The world is like a drunken peasant; when you help 
him up on one side of the horse, he falls off on the other/ 1 Dost 
thou not believe he would say: A The Apostle James must be 
dragged a little into prominence not in behalf of works against 
faith ; no, no, that was not at all the Apostle's meaning, but in behalf 
of faith, in order to bring it about if possible that the need of 
"grace" be deeply felt with genuine, humble sincerity, and to 
hinder if possible that "grace ", grace and truth, the only thing 
which saves, the only thing which insures blessedness, be taken 
quite in vain and become a false pretext for a more refined 
worldliness.' Luther that man of God, that upright soul! 
overlooked perhaps, or forgot, a certain something which a later 
age, and our age especially, only too strongly inculcates. He 
forgot oh, upright man! I repeat he forgot what he himself 
was too upright to know, upright soul that he was, and which I 
(not for my virtue's sake but for truth's sake), must emphasize. 
The Lutheran doctrine is excellent, it is truth; I have only one 
misgiving about this excellent Lutheran doctrine. That does not 
apply to the Lutheran doctrine, but it applies to me : I have reason 
to know that I am not an upright soul, but a crafty fellow. So it 
doubtless would be well to examine a little more carefully the 
subordinate clauses (works, existence, witnessing and suffering 
for the truth, works of love, &c.), the subordinate clauses of 
1 Not in a sermon but in tlie Tuchnden> Werh> bdi, p. 470. 



50 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

Lutheranism. Not that the subordinate clauses should be made 
the principal clauses, faith and grace be done away with or dis- 
paraged God forbid; no, it is just for the sake of the principal 
clauses, and then because I am such as I am, that it doubtless 
would be well to examine a little more carefully the subordinate 
clauses of Lutheranism for so far as 'upright souls' are con- 
cerned nothing needs to be done. 1 

And James says: *Be not hearers only of the Word but doers 
of it/ 

However, to become doers of it, one must first be a hearer or a 
reader of it, as James also says. 

And now we have reached our text. 

So we will speak about 

WHAT IS REQUIRED IN ORDER TO DERIVE TRUE BENEDICTION 
FROM BEHOLDING ONESELF IN THE MIRROR OF THE WORD ? 

First of all y what is required is, that thou must not look at the 
mirror , not behold the mirror , but must see thyself in the mirror. 

This seems so evident that one might think it was hardly neces- 
sary to say it. And yet it most certainly is necessary; and what 
confirms me in this opinion is that it is" not a remark of mine, nor 
of what we nowadays call a pious man, a man who now and then 
has pious moods, but of a witness for the truth, a blood-witness, 
and such glorious ones are well informed. He warns against the 
illusion of getting into the habit of beholding the mirror instead 
of seeing oneself in the mirror. I merely make use of his observa- 
tion and ask thee, rny hearer, is it not as though it were coined 
expressly for our age and for our situation, and in general for the 
later ages of Christianity? 

For 'God's Word' indeed is the mirror. But, but oh, the 
limitless horizons of prolixity! How much belongs in a stricter 
sense to God's Word? which books are genuine? are they also 
Apostolic ? and are these also authentic ? have the authors them- 
selves seen everything? or in some instances perhaps have they 
merely reported what they heard from others? And then the 

1 Even this qualified praise of Luther and Lutheranism must be regarded as a 
measure of 'economy* designed to win some sympathy if possible for the polemic he 
was chiefly intent upon pressing. For in the later Journals the comments upon 
Luther are generally disparaging and often terribly sharp. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 51 

various readings 30,000 various readings. And then this 
throng or crowd of scholars and opinions, learned opinions and 
unlearned opinions, about how the particular passage is to be 
interpreted . . . you must confess that this seems rather prolix. 
God's Word is the mirror by reading or hearing it I am to see 
myself in the mirror; but, lo, all this about the mirror is so con- 
fusing that I never come to the point of seeing my own reflection 
at least not if I take that path. One might be tempted almost to 
suppose that there is a lot of human craftiness in play here (ah, 
and that is true, we men are so crafty in relation to God and things 
divine and godfearing truth, it is by no means true as we like to say 
to one another, that we should be so willing to do God's will, if 
only we could learn what it is), one might be tempted almost to 
suppose that this is craftiness, that we men are far from willing to 
see ourselves in that mirror, and that it is for this reason we have 
hit upon all this which threatens to make reflection from the 
mirror impossible, all this which we glorify by the laudatory name 
of learned and profound and serious research and investigation. 

My hearer, how highly dost thou esteem God's Word? Do 
not say now that thou dost esteem it more highly than words can 
express ; for one may speak so highly that one says nothing. Let 
us therefore, in order to get somewhere, take a simple human 
relationship. If thou dost esteem God's Word higher, so much 
the better. 

Think of a lover who has now received a letter from his 
beloved as precious as this letter is to the lover, just so precious 
to thee, I assume, is God's Word; in the way the lover reads this 
letter, just so, I assume, dost thou read God's Word and conceive 
that God's Word ought to be read. 

But perhaps thou wilt say, 'Yes, but the Holy Scripture is 
written in a foreign tongue.' It is indeed more properly the 
learned who have the obligation to read the Holy Scriptures in the 
original tongues ; but if thou dost insist, if thou wouldst stick to it 
that thou must read the Holy Scriptures in the original tongues 
all right, we can very well retain the picture of the lover, only we 
add a little qualification to it. 

I assume then that this letter from the beloved was written in a 
language which the lover did not understand; and there is no one 
at hand who can translate it for him, and perhaps he did not even 
desire any aid of that sort, which would initiate a third person into 



52 - FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

his secrets. What does he do ? He takes a dictionary and sits down 
to spell out the letter, looking up every word so as to get at the 
translation. Let us suppose that while he is sitting employed in 
this labour there comes in an acquaintance of his. The friend 
knows that he has received this letter, and, looking at the table 
and seeing it lying there, exclaims, 'Oho! There you sit reading 
the letter you got from your lady-love.' What dost thou think 
the other will say ? He replies, *Are you out of your senses ? Is 
this what you call reading a letter from a lady-love? No, my 
friend, I sit here toiling and drudging to make a translation of it 
by the help of the dictionary; at times I am on the point of bursting 
with impatience, the blood rushes to my head so that I want to 
fling the dictionary down on the floor and that's what you call 
reading! You are mocking me. No, thank God, I shall soon be 
through with the translation, and then, ah, then I shall get to the 
point of reading the letter from my lady-love that is an entirely 
different thing. But to whom am I speaking . , . stupid man, get 
out of my sight, I don't want to look at you. Oh, that you could 
think of insulting my lady-love and me by speaking of this as 
reading her letter! Yet stay, stay, it is only a jest on my part; in- 
deed I should be glad to have you stay, but honestly I have no 
time, there still remains something to translate, and I am so 
impatient to get to the point of reading therefore don't be angry, 
but go away so that I may finish.* 

Thus the lover made a distinction between reading and reading, 
between reading with the dictionary and reading the letter from 
his lady-love. The blood rushes to his head for impatience while 
he sits and conjures out the meaning with the dictionary; he is 
furious with his friend for speaking of this erudite reading as a 
reading of the letter from his lady-love. He regarded all this 
(if I may so call it) erudite preparation as a necessary evil, that 
he might get to the point of ... reading the letter from his lady- 
love. 

Let us not dismiss this picture too soon. Let us suppose that 
this letter from the lady-love not only contained, as such letters 
generally do, the declaration of an emotion, but that there was 
contained in it a desire, something which the beloved, desired 
the lover to do. There was, let us suppose, a great deal required 
of him, a very great deal, there was good reason, as every third 
person would say, to hesitate about doing it; but the lover he was 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 53 

off in a second to accomplish the desire of the beloved. Let us 
suppose that in the course of time the lovers met, and the lady 
said, 'But my dear, I didn't think of requiring that of thee; thou 
must have misunderstood the word or translated It wrong/ Dost 
thou believe that the lover now would regret that instead of hasten- 
ing at once to fulfil the desire of his beloved he had not first 
entertained some misgivings, and then perhaps had obtained a few 
more dictionaries to help him out, and then had many misgivings, 
and then perhaps got the word rightly translated, and so was 
exempted from the task dost thou believe that he regrets this 
misapprehension ? Dost thou believe that he is less in favour with 
the beloved ? Take the case of a child, one whom we might well 
call a clever and diligent pupil When the teacher had appointed 
the lesson for the next day he says, 'Let me see to-morrow that 
you know your lesson well/ This made a deep impression upon 
our clever pupil He comes home from school and at once sets to 
work. But he had not heard quite exactly how far the lesson 
extended. What does he do ? It was this exhortation of the teacher 
which impressed him, and he reads double the amount actually 
required of him, as it afterwards proved. Dost thou believe that 
the teacher will be the less pleased with him because he can recite 
admirably a lesson double the prescribed length? Imagine an- 
other pupil He also had heard the teacher's exhortation; nor 
had he heard exactly how far the lesson extended. Then when 
he came home he said, "First I have got to find out how much I 
have to study/ So he went to one of his companions, then to an- 
other, he was not at home at all, on the contrary he fell to chatting 
within elder brother of his and then at last he came home, and 
the time for study was past, and he got nothing at all read. 

So the lover made a distinction, as regards this letter from his 
beloved, between reading and reading; moreover, he understood 
how to read in such a way that, if there was a desire contained in 
the letter, one ought to begin at once to fulfil it, without wasting 
a second. 

Think now of God's Word. When thou readest God's Word 
eruditely we do not disparage erudition, far from it but 
remember that when thou dost read God's Word eruditely, with 
a dictionary, Sec., thou art not reading God's Word remember 
the lover who said, "This is not to read the letter from the beloved/ 
If thou art a learned man, then take care lest with all thy erudite 



S4 . FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

reading (which is not reading God's Word) thou forgettest per- 
chance to read God's Word. If thou art not learned ah, envy 
the other man not, rejoice that thou canst at once get to the 
point of reading God's Word! And if there is a desire, a com- 
mandment, an order, then (remember the lover I), then be off at 
once to do accordingly. 'But', thou perhaps wouldst say, "there 
are so many obscure passages in the Holy Scriptures, whole books 
which are almost riddles.* To this I would reply: 'I see no need 
of considering this objection unless it comes from one whose life 
gives expression to the fact that he has punctually complied with 
all the passages which are easy to understand/ Is this the case 
with thee? Yet thus it is the lover would deal with the letter; 
if there were obscure passages, but also clearly expressed desires, 
he would say, 'I must at once comply with the desire, then I will 
see what can be made of the obscure passages. Oh, but how could 
I sit down to puzzle over the obscure passages and leave the 
desire unfulfilled, the desire which I clearly understood ?' That 
is to say: when thou readest God's Word, it is not the obscure 
passages which impose a duty upon thee, but that which thou 
understandest; and with that thou must instantly comply. If 
there were only a single passage thou didst understand in Holy 
Scripture well, the first thing is to do that; but thou dost not 
first have to sit down and puzzle over the obscure passages. 
God's Word is given in order that thou shalt act in accordance 
with it, not in order that thou shalt practise the art of interpreting 
obscure passages. If thou dost not read God's word so as to bear 
in mind that the very least bit that thou dost understand instantly 
obliges thee to do accordingly, thou dost not read God's Word. 
So the lover thought: 'If instead of hastening to fulfil instantly 
the desire which I understood, I wish to sit down and puzzle 
over what I don't understand, I am not reading the letter from 
the beloved. I can appear before my beloved with a good con- 
science and say, "There were some obscure passages in thy letter, 
with regard to which I said, sufficient unto the day is the evil ; 
but there was a desire which I understood, and that I instantly 
fulfilled." But I could not appear before her with a good con- 
science and say, "There were some obscure passages in thy letter 
which I did not understand, so I sat down and puzzled over them, 
and with regard to thy desire which I did understand I said, 
sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,'" But perhaps thou 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 55 

art afraid that with thee it might turn out as it did with the lover, 
that (but surely this fear is groundless in relation to God's 
requirement), that thou mightest be doing too much, that by 
thumbing the pages of still another dictionary it might prove that 
not so much was required. Oh, my friend, was the lady-love 
displeased that the lover had been doing too much ? and what 
would she say about entertaining such a fear? She would say, 
'He who entertains such a fear of doing too much is not really 
reading the letter from his beloved/ And so I would say: *He 
does not read God's Word/ 

Let us not even yet dismiss this picture of the lover and his 
letter. While he was busily engaged translating with the aid of 
a dictionary, he was disturbed by the visit of an acquaintance. 
He became impatient 'But*, he likely would have said, 'that was 
only because I was retarded in my work, for otherwise it would 
have been of no importance. I wasn't reading the letter then. 
Of course, if someone had come to see me when I was reading 
the letter, it would have been quite another matter that would 
have been a disturbance. Against that danger, however, I shall 
ensure myself; before beginning a thing like that I lock my door 
tight and am not at home. For I would be alone with the letter, 
alone and undisturbed; if I am not alone, I am not reading the 
letter from the beloved/ 

He would be alone with the letter, alone and undisturbed 
otherwise*, says he, *I am not reading the letter from the beloved*. 

And so it is with God's Word: he who is not alone with God's 
Word is not reading God's Word. 

Alone with God's Word! My hearer, permit me to make an 
admission about myself: I am not yet bold enough to be so 
entirely alone with God's Word that no illusion surreptitiously 
intrudes. And allow me to say one thing more: I have never seen 
anyone of whom I could venture to believe that he had sincerity 
and courage enough. to be so completely alone with God's Word 
that absolutely no illusion surreptitiously intruded. 

How strange it is! When in our day a man who is deeply 
moved comes forward and sets the price of what it is to be a 
Christian only one-fifth as high as the Gospel fixes it, they cry 
out, 'Beware of that man ! Do not read what he writes, least of 
all in solitude; do not converse with him, least of all in solitude, 
he is a dangerous man/ But the Holy Scriptures! In fact. 



5 6 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

almost every man possesses them; one does not hesitate to present 
this book to a young person about to be confirmed that is, at 
the most perilous age. In truth, many an illusion must accom- 
pany it; one must be inured to the fact that after all such a book 
does exist; one must read it in a very special way least of all in 
such a way that one finds oneself alone with it. 

To be alone with the Holy Scriptures! I dare not! When I 
turn up a passage in it, whatever comes to hand it catches me 
instantly, it questions me (indeed it is as if it were God Himself 
that questioned me), 'Hast thou done what thou readest there?' 
And then, then . . . yes, then I am caught. So then it is action at 
once, or instantly a humiliating admission. 

Oh, to be alone with the Holy Scriptures ! and if thou art not, 
then thou art not reading the Holy Scriptures. 

That this thing of being alone with God's Word, that this is 
a dangerous business, is tacitly admitted precisely by the more 
efficient sort of people. There was perhaps one (a peculiarly 
efficient and serious man, even though we cannot ^ approve the 
decision he came to) who said, 'I am no good at doing anything 
by halves and this book, God's Word, is an exceedingly 
dangerous book for me, and it is a domineering book. Give it 
a finger, and it takes the whole hand, give it the whole hand, and 
it takes the whole man, suddenly transforming perhaps my whole 
life on a huge scale. No, without permitting .myself to utter 
a single word of mockery or disparagement of that book (which 
is a thing I abhor) I remove it to an out-of-the-way place; I 
don't want to be alone with it.' We do not approve of this, but 
there is something we can approve of, a certain honesty. 

But there is also an entirely different way of defending oneself 
against God's Word, while boasting defiantly that one is quite 
capable of daring to be alone with God's Word, though this is 
far from the truth. For take the Holy Scriptures shut thy door; 
but take also ten dictionaries, twenty commentaries, and then 
thou canst read it just as tranquilly and unembarrassed as thou 
dost read a newspaper column. If perhaps, while thou art sitting 
comfortably and reading, it should occur to thee, strangely 
enough, to raise the question, 'Have I done this? do I act ac- 
cordingly ?' it is of course only in a moment of distraction that 
such a thing could occur to thee, at a moment when thou art not 
self-collected in true seriousness the danger after all is not 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 57 

great. For, look you, there are perhaps a number of various 
readings, and perhaps there has just been discovered a new 
manuscriptgood gracious! . . . and perhaps the prospect of 
another various reading, and perhaps there are five commentators 
of one opinion, and seven of another, and two who maintain 
singular opinions, and three who are vacillating or have no 
opinion, and 'I myself have not quite made up my mind about 
this passage, or, if I must express my opinion, I am of the same 
opinion as the three vacillating commentators who have no 
opinion*, &c. So such a man does not fall into the same em- 
barrassment as I, who am compelled either to act at once in 
accordance with the text, or to make a humiliating admission. 
No, he is tranquil and says, There is on my part nothing to hinder 
me from doing accordingly if only the correct reading is 
established and the commentators arrive at some sort of an 
agreement.' Aha! it will be a long time before that comes about. 
The man, however, has succeeded in obscuring the fact that the 
fault lay in himself, that it is he who has no inclination to deny 
flesh and blood and act in accordance with God's Word. Ah, 
pitiable misuse of erudition ! Alas, that it is so easy for men to 
deceive themselves! 

For if it was not for illusion and self-deception, no doubt every 
man would acknowledge as I do, that I hardly dare to be alone 
with God's Word. 

Alone with God's Word so it is one must be, just as the lover 
desired to be alone with the letter, for otherwise it would not be 
reading the letter from the beloved and otherwise it would not 
be reading God's Word and beholding oneself in the mirror. And 
this indeed is what we should do, and what we should do first; 
if with true benediction we are to behold ourselves in the mirror 
of the Word, we should not look at the mirror but see ourselves 
in the mirror. Art thou learned, remember then that if thou dost 
not read God's Word in a different fashion, it may be said of thee 
that after having devoted many hours every blessed day through- 
out a long life to reading God's Word, thou hast nevertheless 
never read . . God's Word. Then make the distinction, so that 
(over and above the erudite reading) thou mayest get to the point 
of reading God's Word or at least of acknowledging to thyself 
that in spite of the daily learned reading in God's Word thou 
dost not read God's Word, that thou art not willing to have 



58 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

anything at all to do with it. Art thou unlearned, then thou hast 
the less occasion to read amiss so get to work .straightway, do 
not behold the mirror, but straightway behold thyself in the mirror. 

But how in fact is God's Word read in Christendom ? If we 
were to distinguish two classes (for we cannot here concern 
ourselves with individual exceptions), one might say that the 
greater part never read God's Word, and that a smaller part read 
it learnedly in one fashion or another, that is to say, do not really 
read God's Word, but behold the mirror. Or, to say the same 
thing in another way, the greater part regard God's Word as an 
antiquated document of olden time which one puts aside, and a 
smaller part regards God's Word as an exceedingly notable docu- 
ment of olden time upon which one expends an astonishing 
amount of diligence and acumen, &c. . . . beholding the mirror. 

Imagine a country. A royal command is issued to all the office- 
bearers and subjects, in short, to the whole population. A 
remarkable change comes over them all: they all become inter- 
preters, the office-bearers become authors, every blessed day there 
comes gut an interpretation more learned than the last, more acute, 
more elegant, more profound, more ingenious, more wonder- 
ful, more charming, and more wonderfully charming. Criticism 
which ought to survey the whole can hardly attain survey of 
this prodigious literature, indeed criticism itself has become a 
literature so prolix that it is impossible to attain a survey of the 
criticism. Everything became interpretation but no one read 
the royal command with a view to acting in accordance with 
it. And it was not only that everything became interpretation, 
but at the same time the point of view for determining what 
seriousness is was altered, and to be busy about interpretation 
became real seriousness. Suppose that this king was not a human 
king for though a human king would understand well enough 
that they were making a fool of him by giving the affair this turn, 
yet as a human king he is dependent, especially when he en- 
counters the united front of office-bearers and subjects, and so 
would be compelled to put the best face on a bad game, to let it 
seem as if all this were a matter of course, so that the most elegant 
interpreter would be rewarded by elevation to the peerage, the , 
most acute would be knighted, &c. Suppose that this king was 
almighty, one therefore who is not put to embarrassment though 
all the office-bearers and all the subjects play him false. What do 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 59 

you suppose this almighty king would think about such a thing ? 
Surely he would say, 'The fact that they do not comply with the 
commandment, even that I might forgive; moreover, if they 
united in a petition that I might have patience with them, or 
perhaps relieve them entirely of this commandment which seemed 
to them too hard that I could forgive them. But this I cannot 
forgive, that they entirely alter the point of view for determining 
what seriousness is.' 

And now as to God's Word! 'My house shall be a house of 
prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves/ And God's Word 
what is it intended to be, and what have we made of it ? All this 
interpretation and interpretation and science and newer science 
which is introduced with the solemn and serious claim that this 
is the way rightly to understand God's Word look more closely 
and thou wilt perceive that this is with the intent of defending 
oneself against God's Word. It is only too easy to understand the 
requirements contained in God's Word 'give all thy goods to the 
poor', 'when a man smites thee upon the right cheek, turn to 
him also the left', 'when a man take away thy coat, let him have 
thy cloak also', 'rejoice always', 'count it all joy when ye fall into 
divers temptations', &c. all this is just as easy to understand as 
the remark, 'It is a good day to-day', a remark which only in one 
way might become difficult to understand, namely, if there grew 
up a whole literature to interpret it; therefore no poor wretch of 
the most limited intelligence can truly say that he is unable to 
understand the requirement but flesh and blood are reluctant 
to understand and be obliged to do accordingly. And to my 
thinking it is only human that a man shrinks from letting the 
Word really get the mastery of him if no one else will admit it, 
I admit that I do. It is human to beg God to have patience if one 
cannot at once do what one ought to do, and yet promises to strive; 
it is human to beg God to have compassion, seeing that the re- 
quirement is too exalted for one if no one else will admit this of 
himself, I admit that I do it. It is not human, however, to give the 
matter an entirely different turn that I insert layer upon layer, 
interpretation and science and more science (pretty much as a boy 
inserts a napkin, or several of them, under his pants when he is 
about to get a thrashing), that I insert all this between the Word and 
myself, and then bestow upon this commentating and scientific 
method the name of seriousness and zeal for the truth, and then let 



60 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

this busy occupation swell to such proportions that I never come 
to the point of getting an impression of God's Word, never come to 
the point of beholding myself in the mirror. It seems as if all this 
investigating and inquiring and pondering and reflecting would 
bring God's Word quite close to me the truth is that precisely 
thus, in the slyest way, I remove God's Word to the farthest 
possible distance from me, infinitely farther than it is from him 
who never saw God's Word, infinitely farther than from him who 
was so much in dread and fear of God's Word that he cast it as 
far away from him as possible. 

For it is a still greater distance from the requirement (of 
beholding oneself in the mirror), a still greater distance from it 
than never to have seen the mirror, a still greater distance is that 
of sitting year after year, every blessed day, sitting quite tran- 
quilly . . . and beholding the mirror. 

In the second place^ it is required that when thou readest God's 
Word in order to see thyself in the mirror^ thou must remember (so as 
really to get to the point of seeing thyself in the mirror), thou must 
remember to say to thyself continually, l lt is I that am here addressed^ 
it Is about me this is said? 

Let not thyself be deceived or be not thyself crafty. For in 
relation to God and God's Word we men are, oh, so sly, even the 
stupidest amongst us is so sly yea, flesh and blood and self-love 
are very sly. 

So then we >ave made the discovery (for we do not say that this 
is done to defend ourselves against God's Word, we are not so 
crazy as all that, for if we were to say as much, we should reap no 
advantage from our shrewd discovery), we have made the dis- 
covery that to think about oneself is (as in fact it may be in many 
cases, only not when it is a question of letting God's Word get 
the mastery of us), that this is observe the slyness of it ! this 
is vanity, morbid vanity! 'Fie! how could I be so vain? For to 
think about oneself and to say, "It is I", we learned people call 
subjectivity, and subjectivity is vanity, the vanity of not being 
able to read a book God's Word! without having the notion 
that it refers to me. Should I not detest vanity, and could I be 
stupid enough not to, seeing that thereby I at the same time 
ensure myself against God's Word getting a grip on me ? I am 
ensured against this danger just because I do not put myself into 
any personal (subjective) relation to God's Word, but on the 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 6r 

contrary, with the seriousness for which people so highly com- 
mend me, I transform the Word into an impersonal entity (the 
objective, an objective doctrine, &c.), to which I, a man not only 
serious but cultured, relate myself objectively, so that I am not so 
uncultivated and vain as to bring my personality into play, and 
to suppose it was I who was addressed, I and constantly I who 
was being spoken about. Ah, far be from me such vanity and 
lack of culture and far be from me also what otherwise might so 
easily occur, that the Word might get a grip on me, on me precisely, 
might get me in its power so that I could not defend myself, so 
that it would continue to persecute me until I either acted in 
accordance with it or admitted that I did not the well-deserved 
punishment incurred by everyone who permits himself to have 
dealings with God's Word in an uncultivated way.' 

No, no, no ! True seriousness is this : when thou readest God's 
Word, then in everything that thou readest, constantly to say to 
thyself, * It is I that am addressed, to me this is spoken', precisely 
that is seriousness. Among those to whom the cause of Chris- 
tianity was entrusted in a more exalted sense, there is not one 
who has forgotten to emphasize this again and again as the most 
decisive, the most unconditional condition of coming to see 
oneself in the * mirror. So it is this thou shalt do, thou shalt as 
thou readest say continually to thyself, 'It is to me it is said, about 
me it is spoken/ 

Of that mighty emperor in the Orient, r whose wrath the 
renowned little nation had brought down upon itself, it is related 
that he had a slave who every day said to him, * Remember to take 
vengeance!* So this was something to be remembered; it seems 
to me it would have been better to have a slave who every day 
reminded him to forget which, however, is not a good sugges- 
tion, for if one were every day to be reminded to forget, it would 
not be a serious way of forgetting. But in any case, that ruler 
understood very well, just because he was wroth (and wrath is a 
trait of personality, though not a laudable trait), what one must 
do to make a personal impression upon a person. 

But better still than this ruler was King David served sure 
enough it was a sort of service a man himself seldom desires by 
free inclination, which he is tempted rather to regard as one of 

1 Darius, whose slave daily said to him, 'Remember the Athenians !' Herodotus, v. 
105, 



62 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

life's greatest inconveniences. The story I refer to is well known. 1 
King David saw Bathsheba. To see her, and to see that her hus- 
band stood in his way, was one and the same thing. So he must 
be got rid of. And this also came to pass. One did not know 
exactly how it happened, it may have been providential, he fell in 
battle, yet 'Such is war', said the king; presumably he himself 
had chosen with foolhardiness a post so dangerous that it was 
certain death I merely remark that if there was anybody who 
wanted him out of the way and was in a position to command, 
he could not have done better than to assign him to that post 
which was certain death. Now he is out of the way. The thing 
went off very smoothly. And now also there is nothing to hinder 
the king from getting lawful possession of his wife. 'Nothing 
to hinder' art thou queer in the head ? Why, it was even noble 
in a high degree, magnanimous, genuine kingly behaviour, 
which will arouse enthusiasm in the whole army, that the king 
marries the widow of a soldier who had died for the fatherland. 

Then one day there came a prophet to King David. Let us 
make the situation vivid to us and modernize it a little. The one 
is the king, the man who has the highest rank in the nation ; the 
other a prophet, a man much esteemed in the nation both of 
them of course men of culture, and one may be sure that their 
intercourse with one another, their conversation, will bear un- 
mistakably the marks of culture. Besides, they were both, and 
one of them more especially, celebrated authors. King David was 
the renowned poet, and, as a natural consequence of this, a 
connoisseur, an elegant arbiter of good taste, who knew how 
to appreciate the form of presentation, the choice of expres- 
sions, and the construction of a poem, the linguistic form and 
the cadence, and whether it was favourable or prejudicial to 
morals, &c. 

And it is a lucky meeting, just the right man to come to ; for the 
prophet had composed a nove/Ia, a story which he would fain have 
the honour of reciting before his Majesty, the crowned poet and 
connoisseur of poetry. 

'There dwelt two men in one city; the one rich, and the other 

poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: but 

the poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb, which he had 

bought and nourished up; and it grew up together with him and 

1 II Sam. ir and 12. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 63 

with his children ; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own 
cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And 
there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take 
of his own flock and of his own herd to dress for the wayfaring 
man that was come unto him: but took the poor man's lamb and 
dressed it for the man that was come to him/ 

I imagine that David has listened to this attentively, has given 
expression to his opinion, of course without intruding his per- 
sonality (subjectively), but impersonally (objectively) has duly 
appreciated this charming little work. There was perhaps a 
particular trait which he thought might have been different, he 
perhaps proposed an expression more happily chosen, perhaps 
also pointed out a little fault in the plan, praised the prophet's 
masterly delivery of the story, his voice, the play of his features, 
expressed himself, in short, as we cultured people are accustomed 
to do when we criticize a sermon delivered before a cultured 
congregation, that is, a sermon which itself also is objective. 

Then says the prophet to him, 'Thou art the man.* 

Behold, this tale which the prophet recited was a story, but 
this., 'Thou art the man', was another story it was a transition to 
the subjective. 

But dost thou not believe that David himself already knew 
perfectly well how abominable it was to let a woman's husband 
be slain in order that he might marry her ? Dost thou not believe 
that David, the great poet, was quite capable of describing it 
eloquently, awefully, movingly? And, moreover, dost thou not 
believe that David knew within himself what he was guilty of 
and how guilty? And yet, yet, yet there was needed one from 
without who said to him, 'Thou'. 

From this thou canst perceive how little one is helped by the 
impersonal (the objective), a doctrine, a history, science, &c. 3 
when even one who in other respects was so god-fearing a man 
as David was (and piety and godly fear are in fact aspects of 
personality the subjective side), when even he, in the perpetra- 
tion of such an abominable misdeed (and beforehand he found 
objectively enough no obstacle, not the obstacle of conscience 
to letting Uriah be slain, not the obstacle of conscience to marry- 
ing Bathsheba), when even he, after the thing has come to pass, 
can preserve so much impersonality (objectivity) that he can live 
on as if it was nothing, that he can listen to the prophet as if it 



64 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

was nothing until the prophet, weary of this impersonality or 
objectivity which in our century is so much lauded as culture and 
seriousness, assumes authority and says 3 'Thou art the man.' 

From this likewise thou canst perceive what a depth of slyness 
and cunning there is in Christendom when world culture, taking 
advantage of what undeniably is true, that selfishly to intrude one's 
own personality, one's ego, is vanity, that taking advantage of 
this they have made out that to be vanity which in relation to God's 
Word is just seriousness, so that they may be exempted from 
seriousness and its strenuous exertion, and just by this means 
assure themselves of being esteemed as serious and cultured men. 
Oh, depth of cunning! They make God's Word something 
impersonal, objective, a doctrine whereas instead it is as God's 
voice thou shouldst hear it. Thus it is the fathers heard it, God's 
dreadful voice now it sounds as objective as printed calico ! And 
people relate themselves impersonally (objectively) to this im- 
personal thing; and at the apex of world culture, in the forefront 
of the cultured public, is science, upon which they defiantly rely 
as true seriousness and culture, while that unfortunate wretch 
the personal (the subjective) is obliged, like a naughty schoolboy, 
to occupy with shame a place "in the corner. Oh, depth of cun- 
ning! For we men find it only too easy to preserve in relation to 
God's Word this attitude of impersonality (subjectivity), it is in 
fact an inborn quality of genius which we all of us possess, some- 
thing we obtain gratis . . . along with original sin, inasmuch as 
this much lauded impersonality (objectivity) is neither more nor 
less than want of conscientiousness. And of course want of 
conscientiousness naturally does not express itself in actions which 
are foolish, stupid, or imprudent, like the perpetration of a 
punishable crime; no, no, in moderation, up to a certain point, and 
so with good taste and refinement it makes life easy and pleasur- 
able and yet is it not going too far when they regard this as 
seriousness and culture? 

No, if thou art to read God's Word so as to see thyself in the 
mirror, thou must while reading it say to thyself continually, 
* It is I that am addressed, it is about me this is said.' 

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell 
among thieves, who stripped him of his raiment, and wounded 
him, and departed, leaving him half dead and now when thou 
readest, 'and by chance there came down a certain priest that 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 6$ 

way, and when he saw him, he passed by', then thou shalt say to 
thyself, 'That is I/ Thou shalt not seek evasions, and still less 
shalt thou become witty (for though it is true enough that in the 
worldly world a witticism may atone for the deepest baseness, 
such is not the case when thou readest God's Word), thou shalt 
not say, *It is not I, in fact it is a priest, and I am not a priest; 
I consider, "however, that the Gospel has most appropriately 
represented this man as a priest, for the priests are a thoroughly 
bad lot/ No, when thou readest God's Word, it must be in all 
seriousness, and thou shalt say, 'This priest is me. Alas, that I 
could be so uncompassionate I who call myself a Christian 
and in a way I also am a priest, at least we know well how to make 
that claim when it is a question of liberating ourselves from the 
priests, for 'we say that in a Christian sense all men are priests. 
Alas, that I could be so uncompassionate, that I could see such a 
sight (and I saw it, it is written in the Gospel, "when he saw him, 
he passed by") and see it unmoved 1' *And likewise a Levite, 
when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed 
by/ Here thou shalt say, 'It is I, oh, that I could be so hard- 
hearted, and that what had occurred once before could occur now 
again, and that I have not become any better!' And along the 
same road there came a practical man, and when he came near, he 
said to himself, 'What have we here ? There lies a man half dead; 
it is not worth while to go that way, it might well become an 
affair for the police, or perhaps the police might come along this 
very instant and take me for the perpetrator of the deed* then 
thou shalt say to thyself, 'It is I, oh, that I could be so shabbily 
shrewd, and not only this, but that later I could take pleasure 
in my shrewdness, and that when I recounted it to one of my 
acquaintances, I could take pleasure in hearing him praise this 
as so shrewd and practical of me!' And along the same road 
there came along a man deep in thought, thinking of nothing, 
and he saw nothing whatever and passed by then thou shalt say 
to thyself, 'It was I, what an ass I am, that I could walk along so 
like a fool without seeing that a man half dead was lying there!' 
So thou wouldst say to thyself at least if a great treasure had been 
lying beside that road, and thou hadst gone by without seeing it. 
'But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was/ 
In order not to become weary with saying continually, 'It is F, 
thou canst here say for a change, 'It was not I; alas, no, I am not 



66 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

like- that.* Then when the parable ends and Christ says to the 
Pharisee, 'Go and do thou likewise', then thou shalt say to thyself, 
*It is to me this is addressed. Off then at once!' Thou shalt not 
seek evasions, still less try thy hand at witticisms (for from a 
godly point of view witticisms do not atone for anything but only 
aggravate the condemnation), thou shalt not say, 'I can protest 
on my honour that never in my life have I chanced to go along a 
road where there lay a man half dead who had been attacked by 
thieves ; in fact thieves are a rarity in our parts/ No, in this fashion 
thou shalt not talk, thou shalt say, 'It is to me the word is ad- 
dressed, "Go and do thou likewise." ' For thou dost understand 
the saying very well, and if in thy parts thou didst never en- 
counter one who was attacked by thieves, yet on thy path and 
mine there are wretched people enough. Or, to take an example 
which bears a good deal of likeness to that in the Gospel, hast 
thou never followed a road where (if not literally, yet nevertheless 
truly) there lay one whom slander and calumny had attacked and 
stripped naked and left half dead ? And a priest came the same 
way, and passed him by that is, he first listened to what slander 
recounted about the man, and then went on farther . . . and 
recounted the story further. 'And this priest', thou shalt say 
yea, even if it was a bishop or a dean, thou shalt nevertheless say 
to thyself, 'This priest was me!' And a Levite came the same 
way, and he passed by that is, after first gleaning the news as he 
went by, he passed by and carried it with him. 'And this Levite', 
thou shalt say to thyself, 'was me!' And then there came along a 
respectable citizen; he also heard the story and went off with 
it and said, 'It is really a shame the way people as I do now! 
recount this and that about the man.' 'And this Levite', thou 
shalt say to thyself, 4 was me ah, this is indeed worse than that 
story in the Gospel, for there neither the priest nor the Levite 
were on hand to beat the man half dead, but here they are the 
accomplices of the thieves.' 

Thou art reading about that ruler, a member of the Sanhedrim, 
who came to Christ by night. Thou shalt not divert thy atten- 
tion, not even by making the possibly just remark that it was 
strange for him to choose that time, for when one would be hid, 
what use is it after all to choose to go by night when one is going 
to Him who is the light, as it is written in the Psalm (139: 1 1)> 
'If I say. Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 67 

be light about me; yea the darkness hideth not from thee, but 
the night shineth as the day.' No, in this fashion thou shalt not 
talk for, alas, thou understandest only too well why he chose 
the night, thou knowest that though Christ is the way, yet in 
contemporaneousness He was, and if He were to come again, He 
would be ... the forbidden path. 

When thou readest about this, about the man upon whom 
Christ had made an impression, but only such an impression that 
he neither could quite surrender himself, not quite tear himself 
loose, and hence chose the night time, chose to steal to Him by 
night then thou shalt say to thyself, *It is I.' Thou shalt not seek 
evasions, not mix up with this things that are irrelevant; thou 
shalt sit quite still during the lesson hour; thou shalt not say, 
'This was one of those people of rank (Fornemme\ and that *s the 
way such people are, great for their rank, and so cowardly and 
faithless. How could the Gospel which is meant for the poor be 
for people of rank?' No, thus thou shalt not talk. When thou 
readest God's Word, thou hast nothing to do with people of rank, 
nor with rank in general, neither hast thou to arraign them; for 
even if thou wert one of these people of rank, thou hast only 
thyself to do with. No, thou shalt say, *It is F, and if thou hast 
at the same time to admit that thou wast actually on the point of 
making this observation about people of rank, then thou shalt not 
say merely, 'It was F, but adjoin, 'It was I who would moreover 
seek an evasion, would once again (however little it avails when 
I am before Him who is the light) hide myself in the darkness of 
night, in evasion or excuse, as if I did not understand God's Word, 
as if it were only about people of rank the passage speaks. No, it 
was I, ah, that I could be so paltry, such a contemptible fellow, 
neither cold nor hot, neither one thing nor the other!' 

Thus it is (these are merely a few examples) that thou shouldest 
read God's Word; and just as, according to the report of super- 
stition, one can conjure up spirits by reading formulae of incanta- 
tion, so shalt thou, if only thou wilt continue for some time to read 
God's Word thus (and this is the first requisite), thou shalt read 
fear and trembling into thy soul, so that by God's help thou shalt 
succeed in becoming a man, a personality, saved from being this 
dreadful absurdity into which we men created in God's image! 
have become changed by evil enchantment, into an impersonal, 
an objective something. Thou shalt, if thou wilt read God's 



68 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

Word in this way, them shalt (even though it prove terrible to thee 
but remember that this is the condition of salvation) thou 
shalt succeed in the thing required, in beholding thyself in the 
mirror. And only thus is success possible. 

For if to thee God's Word is merely a doctrine, an impersonal, 
objective something, then there is no mirror for an objective 
doctrine cannot be called a mirror; it is just as impossible to be 
mirrored in an objective doctrine as to be mirrored in a wall. And 
if thou dost assume an impersonal (objective) relationship to God's 
Word, there can be no question of beholding thyself in a mirror; 
for to look in a mirror surely implies a personality, an ego; a wall 
can be seen in a mirror but cannot see itself or behold itself in the 
mirror. No, in reading God's Word thou must continually say to 
thyself, 'It is to me this is addressed, it is about me it speaks/ 

Finally^ if with true benediction thou art to behold thyself in the 
mirror of the Word^ thou must not straightway forget what manner 
of man thou art y not be the forgetful hearer (or reader} about whom 
the Apostle speaks: 'He beheld his natural face in the mirror^ and 
straightway forgot what manner of man he was. 9 

This is obvious enough, for to see oneself in a mirror and then 
at once to forget is like writing upon the sand or upon the water, 
or like drawing a picture in the air. 

Therefore the most expedient thing is to say to thyself im- 
mediately, *1 will begin immediately to keep myself from for- 
getting; immediately, this very instant, I promise it to myself and 
to God, if it be only for the next hour or for this present day; so 
long at least it will be certain that I shall not forget/ Believe me, 
this 5s the most expedient thing, and thou knowest well enough 
that I am reputed to be something of a psychologist, and what 
thou knowest not, alas, I know, through how much suffering, 
through what bitter experiences, I have become such, if in fact 
I have become such. So to do is far better than immediately to 
bite off more than thou canst chew, and say immediately, *I shall 
never forget.' Ah, my friend, it is much better never to forget to 
remember it immediately, than to say immediately, I shall never 
forget. Seriousness consists precisely in having this honest 
suspicion of thyself, treating thyself as a suspicious character, 
as a capitalist treats an insolvent person, to whom he says, 'Very 
well 5 but these great promises are of no use, I would rather have 
a small part of the sum immediately/ And so it is also here. Ah, 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 69 

how poor a showing it makes, when one has promised never to 
forget then to have to begin immediately, the very next hour, 
to try to remember! And yet this next hour perhaps decides 
everything; the next hour after what we call *a quiet hour 1 is the 
critical hour. If thou dost let this hour pass and say, 'I have 
promised never to forget, so my whole life is consecrated to 
remembering, how petty a thing it is then to be precise about the 
very next hour/ If thou dost say this, then it is substantially 
decided that thou wilt be the forgetful hearer or reader. Imagine 
a man who has been and still is addicted to a bad habit. Then 
there comes an instant (it comes thus to every man, perhaps many 
times, alas, many times in vain) when he is brought to a standstill, 
a good resolution is awakened in him. Imagine that he (let him 
be, for example, a gambler) said to himself in the morning, 'So 
I solemnly vow by all that is holy that I shall nevermore have 
anything to do with gambling, nevermore to-night shall be the 
last time.* Ah, my friend, he is lost! Strange as it may seem, I 
would venture to bet rather on the opposite, supposing that there 
was a gambler who at such a moment said to himself, 'Very well, 
thou shalt be allowed to gamble all the rest of thy life, every 
blessed day but to-night thou shalt let it alone', and so he did. 
Ah, my friend, he is certainly saved ! For the resolution of the 
first man was a knavish trick of lust, but that of the other is a 
way of hoaxing lust; the one is hoaxed by lust, the other hoaxesf 
lust. Lust is strong merely in the instant, if only it gets its owti 
way instantly, there will be no objection on its part to making 
promises for the whole life. But to reverse the situation so as to 
say, *No, only not to-day, but to-morrow and the day after, &c.', 
that is to hoax lust. For if it has to wait, lust loses its lust; if it is 
not invited to enter the instant it announces itself, and before 
everyone else, if it is told that it will not be granted admittance 
until to-morrow, then lust understands (more quickly that the 
most ingratiating and wily courtier or the most artful woman 
understands what it signifies to meet with such a reception in the 
antechamber), lust understands that it is no longer the one and 
all, that is to say, it is no longer 'lust'. So it is with this thing of 
being on the watch not to forget immediately. Do not promise 
never to forget, only for the sake of being exempted from the 
necessity of remembering immediately,' the very next hour. No, 
the whole situation is to be reversed, thou art to say, 'This indeed 



yo FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

is not something to be remembered all my life, but I promise to 
remember it immediately, the next hour, and this resolution I 
shall keep/ And now when thou goest hence (for we may imagine 
that this is a speech which is being delivered), be not then busy 
about the speech or the speaker. For though doubtless thou 
canst not be said in this case to have forgotten the speech, yet to 
remember it in this way is to be a forgetful hearer. No yet, for 
the matter of that, forget the speech and the speaker, but when 
thou hast returned home, read for thyself, aloud if possible, the 
whole Epistle for the day oh, but do it immediately!. This thou 
wilt do, wilt thou not ? I thank thee for it. And if there might be 
one who after the lapse of ten years should happen, quite by 
chance, to read this discourse, and were to read it to the end 
oh, this is what I beseech thee, read then to thyself, aloud if 
possible, the Epistle for the day, oh, but do it immediately! This 
thou wilt do, wilt thou not? I thank thee for it. 

And thou, O woman, to thee at least it is reserved to be the 
hearer and reader of the word who is not forgetful. Thou dost 
comply becomingly with the Apostle's injunction that women 
must keep silent in the Church. That is becoming. For her to 
go out and preach, without concerning herself at all about the 
home that is unseemly. No, let her be silent, let her treasure 
the Word in silence; her silence will express how deeply she 
treasures it. Dost thou not believe in silence ? I do. When Cain 
slew Abel, Abel was silent. But Abel's blood cries to heaven; 
it 'cries' (not cried), it cries to heaven ; dreadful eloquence, which 
never becomes mute! Oh, the power of silence! That kingly 
man who bears the name of the Silent 1 did not his silence mean 
anything? The others no doubt had talked loudly enough about 
the salvation of the State, and perhaps about what they would do 
he only was silent. What did this silence signify ? That he was 
the man for the task, that he saved the State. Oh, the power of 
silence ! 

So it is with woman. Let me describe such a woman, a hearer 
of the Word who does not forget the Word ; but in listening to this 
description do not forget to become thyself such a one. As has 
been said, she does not speak in the Church, nor does she talk 
at home about religion, she keeps silent. Neither is she like an 
absent-minded person, far away in other regions. Thou dost sit 
1 WHliam the Silent, Prince of Orange. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 71 

talking to her, and sitting there for all thou art worth, thou dost 
say to thyself, 'She is silent. What does this silence mean?' She 
tends to her house, she is perfectly alert and attentive, as if with 
her whole soul, to even the least little insignificant thing; she is 
joyful, sometimes full of jest and merriment, almost more than 
the children she is the joy of the home and as thou dost sit with 
all thy might looking at her, thou wilt say to thyself, 'What does 
this silence mean ?* And so too, in case he who is closest to her, 
to whom she is bound by an indissoluble tie, whom she loves with 
all her soul, and who has claim to her confidence in case it 
could be supposed that he might say to her directly, 'What does 
this silence mean? What art thou thinking about? For there is 
something behind all the rest, something thou must always be 
thinking about, tell me what it is.' She does not tell it directly; 
at the most she might perhaps say evasively, 'Come along then to 
Church next Sunday* and then she talks of other things. Or she 
says, 'Promise me to read a sermon aloud to me on Sunday' 
and then she talks of other things. What does this silence mean? 

What does it mean? Well, let us not probe farther into that; 
if she does not tell anything directly to her husband, how could 
we outsiders expect to get to know anything ? No, let us not probe 
farther into that, but let us bear in mind that this silence is pre- 
cisely what we have need of if God's Word is to acquire a little 
power over men. 

Oh, if one might (as surely one is justified in doing from a 
Christian point of view), if, in view of the present situation of the 
world, of life as a whole, one might Christianly say, * It is a sick- 
ness* and if I were a physician, and someone asked me, 'What 
dost thou think must be done ?', I should answer, *The first, the 
unconditional condition of doing anything, and therefore the 
first thing to be done is, procure silence 3 introduce silence, God's 
Word cannot be heard, and if, served by noisy expedients, it is 
to be shouted out clamorously so as to be heard in the midst of the 
din, it is no longer God's Word. Procure silence! Everything 
contributes to the noise; and as it is said of a hot drink that it 
stirs the blood, so in our times, every event, even the most 
insignificant, every communication, even the most fatuous, is 
calculated merely to harrow the senses or to stir up the masses, the 
crowd, the public, to make a noise. And man, the shrewd pate, 
has become sleepless in the effort to find out new, ever new means 



72 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

for increasing the noise, for spreading abroad, with the greatest 
possible speed, and on the greatest possible scale, the meaningless 
racket. Indeed, the apogee has almost been attained : communica- 
tion has just about reached the lowest point, with respect to its 
importance; and contemporaneously the means of communica- 
tion have pretty nearly attained the highest point, with respect 
to quick and overwhelming distribution. For what is in such 
haste to get out, and on the other hand what has such widespread 
distribution as ... twaddle? 1 Oh, procure silence! 

And this is what woman can do. A very extraordinary superior- 
ity is required if a man by his presence would impose silence 
upon men but, on the other hand, every woman can do it; 
within her limits, in her own circle 3 provided she desires to do it, 
not selfishly, but serving humbly a higher aim. 

Truly nature has not showed partiality for women, no, nor 
Christianity either. Well, after all, it is only human, and there- 
fore womanly, within one's own limit and becomingly, to desire 
to have one's own significance, to be well what? well, to be a 
power. So there are various ways for a woman to exercise power : 
by her beauty, by her charm, by her talents, by her active imagina- 
tion, by her happy temper she may also try in a noisy way to 
become a power. The last is" ungraceful and untrue, the first is 
frail and uncertain. But if thou wouldst be a power, O woman, 
let me confide to thee how. Learn silence; oh, learn silence from 
thyself! Oh, thou didst know it indeed yes, when but narrow 
means were thy lot, thou nevertheless didst know how to arrange 
thy house, thy home, pleasantly, agreeably, invitingly, not without 
fascination, in spite of its frugality; and if more ample means were 
thy lot, thou didst know how to arrange thy house, thy home, 
tastefully, cosily, invitingly, not without fascination; and if 
opulence were thy lot, thou didst know with ingenious tact 
almost concealing wealth how by these very means to spread a 
certain fascination over thy house, thy home, uniting wealth and 
frugality. Mine eye is not blind to this, I have perhaps only too 
much of the poetical in me; but for this let others praise thee. On 

1 It is to be- remembered that the means of communication S. K. was thinking of 
were only the newspaper (his special abhorrence) and the telegraph (which was just 
coming into use) and yet from this passage one might suppose that he had in view 
the telephone, wireless telegraphy, the radio, the news reel, not to speak of other 
modern means of making a noise. 



THE MIRROR OF THE WORD 73 

the other hand, there is one thing, which if thou didst forget to 
introduce it into thy house, thy home, the most important matter 
is lacking that is, Silence! Silence! Silence is not a definite 
something, for it does not consist simply in not speaking. No, 
silence is like the subdued light in the cosy room, like friendliness 
in the humble chamber it is not a thing one remarks upon, but 
it is there, and it exercises its beneficent influence. Silence is like 
the note, the ground-note, which is not made conspicuous; it is 
called the ground-note just because it is underlying. 

But this silence thou canst not introduce into the house as thou 
dost summon, for example, a man to hang the curtains; no, if 
silence is to be introduced, it has to do with thy presence, or witl\ 
the way in which thou art present in thy house, thy home. And 
when thus by thy presence year after year thou hast steadily 
introduced silence into thy house, in time this silence will remain 
there also in thine absence as a witness unto thee, finally, alas, as 
a memento of thee. 

There is an adjective which characterizes the trait which is 
decisive for women. Great as the differences may be between 
one woman and another, this one thing is required of every 
woman, no opulence conceals, no poverty excuses the lack of this; 
it is like the badge of authority worn by civil officials there are 
personal distinctions, one man being in command, as a person 
highly esteemed in the community, the other being the most 
inconsiderable, a very subordinate person in the community; 
but one thing they have in common, the badge of authority. This 
trait is homeliness 'wifely homeliness*, in the best and most 
favourable sense of the word. It is woman's character, just as it is 
regarded as man's character to be a character. The countless hosts 
of women, with all these manifold and manifoldly diversified 
diversities, all of them should have in common one thing, as all 
have this in common that they are women they should have 
homeliness. Take, for example, a poor plain woman if it can 
truly be said of her that in this fine sense she is homely, all honour 
to her, I bow to her as profoundly as to a queen. And on the 
other hand, in case the queen does not possess homeliness, she is 
but a mediocre madam. Take a young girl of whom it might be 
said that it would be a sin to say she was anything of a beauty 
in case she, so far as a young girl can be such, is homely, all honour 
to her. And on the other hand, a beaming beauty, and for that 



74 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

matter we may bestow upon her in addition all sorts of talents, 
and for that matter let her be a celebrity but she is not homely, 
indeed she has not even a respect for this trait, so with all her 
talents, beauty, and celebrity, she is but a mediocre wench. 
Homeliness ! With this word we make to woman the great con- 
cession that really it is she who creates the home. The young 
girl, even if she were never to be married, we nevertheless rank 
in accordance with the measure of her feminine worth : homeliness. 
But silence introduced into the house is the homeliness of eternity. 

However, if thou, O woman, art to introduce this silence, learn 
it from thyself, and then thou mayest school others in it. Thou 
must take good care, must find time for thyself, and though thou 
hast so much to attend to, ah (here we have it again), thou art a 
homely body, and when one has a homely way of dealing with 
time, one can find time enough. This thou must be careful about. 
Man has so much to attend to, so much to do with noisy things, 
all too much ; if thou dost not attend to it that everything is as it 
should be, that silence is there, never will silence enter thy house. 

Attend well to this ! For in these times a young girl learns so 
much in the Institute, not only French and German but drawing 
the question is whether in these times she learns what is most 
important, that which later she will have to learn by herself (for 
there are only a few individuals who later learn French and Ger- 
man by themselves), if indeed she learns it, namely, silence. 
Whether she will learn it I do not know. But be attentive thou 
to this, it is indeed thy task to introduce silence. Remember the 
words of the Apostle about beholding thyself in the mirror of the 
Word, For a woman who looks much at her reflection in the 
mirror becomes vain and vainly talkative! And alas, a woman 
who looks at her reflection in the mirror of the age becomes loudly 
vociferous ! Oh, but a woman who looks at her reflection in the 
mirror of the Word becomes silent! And if she becomes silent, 
this is perhaps the strongest expression of the fact that she is not 
a forgetful hearer or reader. One who after beholding herself in 
the mirror of the Word became talkative that may be an indica- 
tion that she has not forgotten, perhaps; but if she became silent, 
then it is sure. Thou knowest it indeed: one fell in love and 
became talkative . . . maybe! But to become silent that is surer. 



II 

CHRIST IS THE WAY 

Acts i : i 12 
Ascension Day 



THE PORTION OF SCRIPTURE APPOINTED FOR THE EPISTLE IS WRITTEN IN THE FIRST 
CHAPTER OF THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES BEGINNING WITH THE FIRST VERSE 

The first account I wrote, O Theophilus, about all that 
Jesus undertook both to do and to teach, until the day when 
He was taken up, after He had through the Holy Ghost 
given commandment to the Apostles whom He had chosen, 
before whom He also showed Himself alive after His 
passion, by many infallible proofs, being seen of them forty 
days and speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom 
of God. And when He had assembled them together, He 
commanded them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait 
for the promise of the Father, which, saith He, ye have 
heard from me. For John truly baptized with water, but 
ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days 
hence. When they therefore were assembled, they asked 
of Him, saying, "Lord, wilt thou at this time restore again 
the kingdom to Israel ?' But He said unto them, 'It is not 
for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father 
hath put in His own power. But ye shall receive the power 
of the Holy Ghost which shall come upon you; and ye 
shall be my witnesses, both in Jerusalem, and In all Judaea, 
and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. 5 
And when He had spoken these things, while they beheld, 
He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their 
sight. And while they gazed towards heaven as he went up, 
behold, two men stood by them In white apparel, which 
also said, 'Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up to 
heaven ? This same Jesus who is taken up from you into 
heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him 
go Into heaven.* 

PRAYER 

O Lord Jesus Christ, who didst behold Thy fate in advance and yet didst not draw 
back; Thou who didst suffer Thyself to be born in poverty and lowliness, and there- 



78 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

after in poverty and lowliness didst bear the sin of the world, being ever a sufferer, 
until, hated, forsaken, mocked, and spat upon, in the end deserted even by God, 
Thou didst bow Thy head in the death of shame oh, but Thou didst yet lift it up 
again, Thou eternal victor, Thou who wast not, it is true, victorious over Thine 
enemies in this life, but in death wast victorious even over death; Thou didst lift up 
Thy head, for ever victorious, Thou who art ascended to heaven ! Would that we 
might follow Thee I 

CHRIST IS THE WAY 

CHRIST is the way. This is His own word, so it surely must 
be truth. 
And this way is narrow. This is His own word, so it surely 
must be truth. Indeed, even if He had not said it, it would still 
be truth. Here thou hast an example of what it is in the highest 
sense of the word to 'preach*. For if Christ never had said, "Strait 
is the gate and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life', thou hast 
only to look at Him, and at once thou dost see that the way is 
narrow. But this is a much more solid and a much more forcible 
proclamation that the way is narrow this fact that His life, every 
blessed day, every hour, every instant, expresses the truth that 
the way is narrow than if His life had not expressed it, and then 
on several occasions He had proclaimed, 'The way is narrow/ 
Thou canst see here also thaHt is at the farthest possible remove 
from the genuine preaching of Christianity when a man whose 
life every day, every hour of the day, every instant, expresses the 
very opposite, then preaches Christianity for half an hour. Such 
preaching transforms Christianity into its exact opposite. In 
that ancient hymn ('We praise Thee, O God') which enumerates 
the various sorts of preachers of the Word no mention is made of 
this sort of preaching, which is the invention of a later age 
'when Christianity is completely victorious*. In the hymn it is 
said, 'The Prophets praise Thee' O God they were the first 
in point of time. Next, *The Apostles praise Thee\ These are 
the extraordinary ministers : Prophets and Apostles. Then there 
comes a whole army, a swarm of men thou and I come along with 
them, I can imagine well, but just hear now: 'And the noble 
army of Martyrs praise Thee solemnly in the hour of death/ 
And then it is over. This is the preaching of the doctrine that 
the way is narrow; the preacher does not mock himself, as is the 
case when the way he himself follows is easy, whereas (perhaps 
movingly, persuasively, perhaps not without tears but perhaps, 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 79 

too, weeping comes easy to him) he preaches that 'the way* is 
narrow that is to say, not the way he himself follows. No, the 
preacher's life expresses the doctrine: the way is narrow; there is 
only one way, that which the preacher follows as he preaches that 
'the way' is narrow. There are not two ways, one of them being 
easy, a beaten path, along which the preacher goes, preaching 
that 'the way' is narrow, that is, the true way, the way in which 
the preacher does not walk, so that his preaching invites men to 
follow Christ in the narrow way, whereas his life (and that 
naturally exercises far more influence) invites them to follow the 
preacher in the easy way, the beaten path. Is this Christianity? 
No, life and preaching should express the same thing, that 'the 
way* is narrow. 

And this way, which is Christ, this narrow way, is narrow at the 
very beginning. 

He is born in poverty and wretchedness one is almost tempted 
to think that it is not a human being that here is born He is 
born in a stable, wrapped in rags, laid in a manger, yet, strangely 
enough, He was plotted against by the mighty while He was still 
an infant, so that His poor parents were obliged to flee with Him. 
That in truth is already a very narrow way. For when one is bom 
in an exalted position, for example as heir apparent, it well may 
chance that one becomes the object of the plots of the mighty; 
but to be born in a stable and be swaddled in rags there we 
have poverty and indigence which may be narrow enough; but 
in such circumstances one is commonly exempted at least from 
the plots of the mighty. 

But as He did not seem by His birth to be designated for high 
position, so in fact things remained about as they were at the 
beginning ; He lives in poverty and lowliness, not having whereon 
to lay His head. 

This already would surely be about enough to justify one, 
humanly speaking, in saying about a way that it is narrow. And 
yet in fact this is the easiest part of the narrow way. 

In a very different sense from this the way is narrow, and that 
from the very beginning. For from the very beginning His life is 
a story of temptation ; it is not only a single period of His life, the 
forty days, which is the story of temptation; no, His life (just as 
it is also all of it the story of the Passion) is a story of temptation. 
He is tempted every instant of His life that is to say, He has in 



8o FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

his power the .possibility of taking His calling, His task, in vain. 
In the desert it is Satan who is the tempter; in later instances it is 
the other people who" play the role of the tempter, now it is the 
populace, now the disciples, perhaps also at one time, more 
especially at the beginning, the mighty made an effort to tempt 
Him to secularize His calling, His task and then, in one way 
or another, He would have become something great in the world, 
a king and despot, in conformity with the dearest wish of His 
beloved disciples, so that He might have been tempted for their 
sake to give in a little, instead of being obliged, humanly speaking, 
to make them as unhappy as possible. Whereas other men struggle 
from the very beginning with prodigious effort to become kings 
and despots, He with infinitely greater effort from the very 
beginning had to defend Himself against being made king and 
despot. Oh, narrow way! Narrow enough when suffering is 
inevitable, when there is no way out of it a still narrower way 
when in every instant of suffering (alas, every instant was suffer- 
ing!) there is this frightful! possibility which is almost forced 
upon Him, this possibility of being able so easily to procure, not 
relief only, but victory and all that an earthly heart could crave. 
Oh, narrow way, which many true followers, however, have had 
to travel, though on a lesser scale! It is the universal human trait to 
aspire to be regarded as something great, and the universal forgery 
is to give oneself out to be more than one truly is. Religious 
suffering begins differently. By reason of his relationship to God, 
the man who is called feels himself so mighty that he is not in the 
least tempted to aspire to be regarded as more. No, but in the 
same instant he is pierced through and through by a mortal 
dread; for he understands that this sort of endowment is usually 
certain destruction. And so his temptation is to affirm of himself 
less than he truly is. No one shall know this along with him, 
no one but God; and if he carries this out, then peace awaits 
him, and exultation, and glory, for thus he conquers he has 
to endeavour precisely to defend himself against conquering. 
Narrow way! 

The way is narrow from the very beginning; for from the very 
beginning He knows His fate. Oh, frightful weight of suffering, 
from the very beginning! There have been many, many who 
buoyantly, almost exultantly, went forth to war with the world, 
hoping that they should conquer. It did not come to pass as they 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 81 

hoped, things took another turn; but even at the instant when 
it seemed most like inevitable destruction, even at that instant 
there was in them perhaps a human hope that the situation might 
turn to victory, or a godly hope that even yet it might turn to 
victory, since all things are possible with God. But Christ knew 
His fate from the beginning, knew that it was inevitable He 
Himself indeed would have it so, He Himself went freely into 
it! Frightful knowledge, from the very beginning! When the 
populace at the beginning of His life acclaimed Him, He knew 
at that instant what it meant, that it was the same populace 
which would cry out, 'Crucify him!* 'Why does He want to have 
anything to do with the populace?* Presumptuous man! Dost 
thou dare to speak thus to the Saviour of mankind? Now he 
performs again a work of love towards this people (and His whole 
life was nothing else but this), but He knew at the same instant 
what it means, that also this work of love contributes to bring 
Him to the cross; had He in this instance loved Himself and 
refrained from performing a work of love, His crucifixion perhaps 
would have been doubtful. 'But then He could have left the work 
undone!' Presumptuous man! Dost thou dare to speak thus to 
the Saviour of the world ? Oh, narrow way! A narrow way which 
nevertheless many a true follower has had to travel, though on a 
lesser scale ! A human heart finds joy in apprehending how much 
is granted to one. So at the beginning there is an instant when the 
man with a 'call* tries his muscles as it were, happy and grateful 
as a child for what is granted to him, and like a child he perhaps 
craves more, yet humbly, and it is granted to him. And still more, 
which is granted. He himself is almost overwhelmed, he says, 
*No, now I crave nothing more.' But it is as if there was a voice 
which said to him, 'Oh, my friend, this is only a small part of 
what is granted thee/ At that the man with a call sinks almost 
impotently to the ground, and says, *O my God, I understand it, 
so then my fate is already decided, my life consecrated to suffer- 
ing, it is sacrificed. And to think that now, already, I should be 
able to understand thisF 1 

Yes, the way is narrow, from the very beginning; for He knows 

from the very beginning that His work is to work against Himself. 

Ah, the way can well be narrow even where thou art at liberty to 

employ all thy powers to press through, where the opposition is 

1 I wonder if the reader needs to be apprised that this passage is-autobiographical. 



82 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

without thee; but when thou must employ all thy powers to work 
against thyself that is if it were far too little to say that the way 
is narrow, rather it is impassable, barred, impossible, crazy! And 
yet it is the way to which applies the saying that Christ is the 
way, it is just as narrow as this. For the True and the Good 
which He wills if he does not relinquish them, if He labours 
for them with all His might, He labours Himself into certain 
destruction. And on the other hand, if He too quickly stakes 
the whole truth, His destruction will come too early; so He must 
work against Himself, must for a long while seem to indulge in 
illusions, in order the more thoroughly to ensure His destruction. 
Narrow way ! To walk in that way is at once, even at the begin- 
ning, like dying! Almightily to exert the powers of omnipotence, 
to be at the same time a man, and therefore with the capacity to 
suffer every human suffering and then to have to use these 
powers of omnipotence to work against Himself, to know this 
from the very beginning oh, from the very beginning how 
narrow a way! 

And Ms way which is Christy this narrow way, becomes,, as it goes 
on^ narrower and narrower^ until the very last, until death. 

It becomes narrower; so it does not little by little become easier. 
No, the way which little by little becomes easier cannot be said 
to be the way in the sense that Christ is the way. Such is the 
way human shrewdness and human understanding takes. One 
man perhaps has more shrewdness, greater understanding, than 
another, and is capable therefore of venturing more and holding 
out longer than another, but understanding and shrewdness can 
constantly reckon upon the expectation that when for a longer or 
shorter time suffering has been endured and effort expended, the 
way will become easier and at the last one triumphs in this life. 
On the other hand, a way which becomes narrower and narrower 
up to the very last such a way shrewdness and understanding 
never take *it would be madness*. 

However, whether it be madness or shrewdness, so it is: the 
narrow way becomes narrower. 

4 1 am come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I would that 
it were already kindled!* This is a sigh the way is narrow. A 
sigh! What is a sigh? A sigh signifies that there is something 
imprisoned within, something that would out, but cannot or 
must not, something that would have air; so a man sighs and 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 83 

gives himself air (so as not to perish), while he is struggling for air 
so as not to perish. *I am come to cast fire upon the earth, and 
how I would that it were already kindled!* How shall I describe 
this suffering? Let me attempt it but let me at once retract 
the attempt beforehand and say that it is only an impotent nothing 
if it were to be taken to describe the suffering. Imagine then a 
ship, but thou canst well imagine it infinitely bigger than anything 
that is to be seen in reality; suppose, to mention a figure at ran- 
dom, that it could contain one hundred thousand men. It is a 
warship, engaged in battle and the strategy of the battle requires 
that it be blown up. Think of the commander who has to kindle 
this fire! And yet this is but a wretched, insignificant picture. 
For what are one hundred thousand men compared with the whole 
race! and what is it to be blown up together compared with the 
fire which Christ was to kindle, which on exploding would 
separate in dissension father and son, son and father, mother and 
daughter, daughter and mother, the mother-in-law and the 
daughter-in-law, the daughter-in-law and the mother-in-law 
and where the danger is not that of death but the loss of eternal 
blessedness! *I am come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I 
would that it were already kindled! 1 However, the moment has 
not yet come, the terrible moment, though the not less terrible 
moment is the moment before, when a man sighs, 'Oh, would it 
were come to pass!' 

*O faithless and perverse generation! how long shall I be with 
you ? how long shall I suffer you ?' This is a sigh. It is as when 
a sick man not on a sick-bed, but on a death-bed, for this is no 
light sickness, his life is despaired of raises his head from the 
pillow and says, 'What time is it ?' death being a certainty, the 
question only is. How long will it be ? What time is it ? However, 
the moment is not yet come, the terrible moment, although the 
not less terrible moment is the moment before, when a man sighs, 
'How long have I still to hold out?' 

So then for the last time He is assembled with His disciples at 
the supper which He has earnestly desired to eat with them 
before He died. Defenceless He is as ever. Defenceless. Yes, 
for in one respect He might have defended Himself. He might 
(and that would have been on his part a mildness which men 
might have admired endlessly), He might have said to Judas, 
'Stay away, come not to the supper, the sight of thee affects me 



84 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

painfully.* Or He might have charged one of the Apostles 
(without telling him what He knew about Judas) to say to him 
not to come. But no! They were all assembled together. Then 
He said to Judas, *What thou doest, do quickly.' This is a sigh. 
Only quickly! Even the most frightful thing is less frightful than 
this only do it quickly! A sigh which draws breath deeply and 
slowly only quickly ! It is as when a man has a prodigious task 
to perform ; although the effort almost exceeds his power, he yet 
has strength left for the next instant 'one instant longer and my 
strength may be sapped, I may be no longer myself hence, 
quickly P 'What thou doest, do quickly!* 

Then He rises from the table and goes out to the Garden of 
Gethsemane. Here He sinks to the ground oh, that it might 
quickly come to pass! He sinks as in a death-swoon. Was He 
indeed more a dying man on the cross than in Gethsemane ? If 
the suffering upon the cross was a death-struggle oh, this 
struggle in prayer was a struggle also for life, and not without 
blood, for His sweat fell like drops of blood upon the ground. 

Then He rises with strength renewed: 'Father in heaven, Thy 
will be done/ 

Then Judas kisses Him hast thou heard the like of it! 
then He is apprehended, accused, condemned! It was in the 
regular course of law, it was human justice! This was a people 
He had done good to; verily He had wanted nothing for Himself, 
every day of His life and every thought was sacrificed to it and 
this people cried, 'Crucify him, crucify him!' There was then a 
ruler of the land who feared the Emperor, a man of culture who 
as such did not neglect the most important matter, 'of washing 
his hands* so He was condemned! Oh, human justice! Yes, in 
quiet weather, when all goes smoothly, a little bit of some sort 
of justice is done; but whenever the situation is extraordinary 
oh, human justice! O human culture, what really distinguishes 
thee from that which thou dost most abhor: from lack of culture, 
the vulgarity of t^ie crowd? It is the fact that thou doest the same 
as they, only with attention to the form, not to do it with un- 
washed hands oh, human culture! 

Then He was nailed to the cross and then only one sigh 
more, then it is over. One sigh more, the deepest, the most 
terrifying: 'My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?* 
This humiliation is the last extreme of suffering. Among those 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 85 

who were followers in the strictest sense, the blood-witnesses, 
thou wilt find faint intimations of this same experience. They 
have relied upon God and upon God's assistance, then there comes 
a moment at the last when the sigh is to this effect: 'God hath 
forsaken me, so ye are right, ye mine enemies, exult not, for all 
that I have said was not true, it was a delusion, now it is shown 
to be such God is no more with me, He hath forsaken me.* 
O my God! And now He He had said that He was the only 
begotten Son of the Father, one with the Father but if they 
are one, how can the Father for an instant forsake Him ? And 
yet He says, *My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?* 
So then it was not true that He was one with the Father. Oh, 
extremest limit of t superhuman suffering 1 A human heart would 
have broken a little sooner, only the God-Man has to suffer this 
last clean through. Then He dies. 

My hearer, remember now what it was we said at the begin- 
ning: this way is narrow is it not? 

However, we go on farther; and Christ is the way. Christ is the 
way, He goes up unto the mountain, a cloud receives Him out 
of the sight of the disciples, He ascends into heaven and He 
is the way. 

Perhaps thou sayest, Tes, and it was about this thou shouldst 
have spoken to-day, not as thou hast been speaking, almost as 
though it were Good Friday.' Oh, my friend, art thou one of those 
who, punctually at the stroke of the clock and by the date of the 
calendar is able to put himself into a definite mood ? Or dost 
thou suppose that it is Christianity's intention that we should 
be like that, and not rather that we should combine together as 
far as possible the various factors of Christianity ? Precisely on 
Ascension Day it ought to be remembered that the way is narrow, 
for otherwise we easily might take the Ascension in vain. Re- 
member, the way was narrow up to the last, death comes in 
between then follows the Ascension, It was not midway that 
He goes to heaven, it was not even at the end of the way, for the 
way ended at the cross and in the grave. The Ascension is not 
a direct continuation of the foregoing, verily no ! And a narrow 
way which even in this life becomes easier and easier never leads 
so high, even when it leads to its highest goal, to victory, never 
so high that it becomes an ascension into heaven. But every 
living man is indeed if he is in the right way and not on a byway 



86 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

is indeed in the narrow way. Therefore doubtless the Ascen- 
sion should be talked about, and about Christ as the way to it 
oh, but as for the Ascension, that is so easy to go through with, 
if only we reach that point, and the last way in the world to reach 
it is by wanting merely to think about the Ascension, even if thou 
also dost let thyself be uplifted by the thought of the Ascension. 
He ascends into heaven no one ever conquered thus! A 
cloud received Him out of their sight no triumphator was ever 
thus raised above the earth! They saw Him no more in no 
other case was triumph the last experience for anyone! He sits 
at the right hand of the Power so the triumph did not end with 
the Ascension? No, that was only the end of the beginning. 
O eternal Conqueror! 

My hearer, in which way art thou walking ? Remember (as I 
also tell myself) that it is not true of every narrow way that Christ 
is that way, neither that it leads to heaven. 

A pious man has said that it costs a man just as much trouble, 
or even more, to go to hell as to get into heaven. That also is a 
narrow way, the way of perdition; but Christ is not that way, 
neither does it lead to heaven. There is anguish and torment 
enough upon this way, and to that extent the way is truly narrow, 
the way of perdition, the way which, in contrast to the other ways 
about which we have been speaking (the way which at the be- 
ginning is narrow and becomes easier and easier, and the narrow 
way which becomes narrower and narrower), is recognizable by 
the fact that at the beginning it seems so easy, and becomes more 
and more terrible. For it goes so easily to join in the dance of 
pleasure ; but when it has gone on apace, and it is pleasure which 
dances with man against his will that is a heavy dance! And it 
is so easy to give rein to the passions audacious speed, one 
scarcely can follow it with the eye! until passion, having taken 
the bit in its teeth, goes with a still more audacious speed the 
man himself is not audacious enough to look where they are 
going! carries him forcibly along with it! And it is so easy to 
permit a sinful thought to slip into the heart no seducer is so 
adroit as a sinful thought! it is so easy, it does not here apply as 
in other instances that it is the first step which costs, oh, no, it 
costs nothing whatever, on the contrary, the sinful thought pays 
for itself at an exorbitant rate, it costs nothing until at the 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 87 

conclusion, when thou must pay dear for this first which did not 
cost anything; for when the sinful thought has gained entrance, it 
exacts a fearful price. Sin usually enters into a man as a flatterer; 
.but then when a man has become a slave of sin that is a frightful 
servitude, a narrow, a prodigiously narrow way to perdition! 

There are moreover other narrow ways of which it cannot 
absolutely be said that Christ is the way or that they lead to heaven. 
There are human sufferings enough, only too many of them, 
sickness, and poverty, and misunderstanding, and who can 
enumerate all of these sufferings ! Everyone who walks in such 
a way walks also in a narrow way. Verily we should not speak 
loftily, as though these sufferings were to be counted as nothing 
but, oh, my friend, thou knowest indeed what Christianity is, 
let me merely remind thee of it. That which distinguishes the 
Christian narrow way from the common human narrow way is 
willingness. Christ was not one who sought after earthly posses- 
sions but had to be content with poverty; no, He chose poverty. 
He was not one who aspired after human honour and repute but 
had to be content to live in lowliness, or to be misjudged and 
slandered; no, He chose humiliation. This in a stricter sense is 
the narrow way. The common human sufferings are not in a 
stricter sense the narrow way, yet verily the way may be narrow 
enough, and thou mayest strive also to walk Christianly in this 
narrow way of human suffering. If thou dost walk in it Christian- 
ly, it leads to heaven, where He entered, the ascended Christ. 
-' It is true, however, that people have doubted about the Ascen- 
sion, Yes, but who is it that has doubted ? Surely not any one of 
those whose life bore the marks of a 'follower' ? Surely not any 
one of those who forsook everything to follow Christ? Surely 
not any one of those who were marked by persecution which 
follows as a consequence when 'following* is posited? No, by 
none of them. But when they did away with 'following' and 
thereby made persecution an impossibility (which in the thieves' 
Latin we men speak among ourselves did not sound like an indict- 
ment of a perplexed century for its defection from Christianity- O 
gracious, no, it sounded like a eulogy of the enlightened century's 
progress in tolerance) ; when they so abated the price of being a 
Christian that to be a Christian almost meant nothing, so that 
there was nothing left to persecute then in idleness and self- 
indulgence there arose all sorts of doubt. And doubt assumed an 



88 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

air of importance (who could doubt it?), and people became self- 
important by doubting just as once upon a time (as we can 
better understand, though we do not approve of it) they became 
self-important by giving all their goods to the poor, so now 
(presumably in order to establish the true concept of 'merit' 
instead of the medieval misunderstanding which they abhorred) 
people became self-important by doubting. And while they 
doubted everything, there was yet one thing beyond all doubt, 
that by this ('one must doubt everything') 1 they assured for 
themselves anything but a doubtful, nay, an exceedingly sure 
position in society, along with great honour and repute among 
men. 

So some doubted. But then again there were some who sought 
by reasons to refute doubt. Really, however, the situation is 
this: the first thing was that they sought by reasons to prove 
the truth of Christianity, or to adduce reason in support of it. 
And these reasons they begat doubt, and doubt became the 
stronger. For the proof of Christianity really consists in 'follow- 
ing'. That they did away with. So they felt the need of reasons; 
but these reasons, or the fact that there are reasons, is already a 
sort of doubt and so doubt arose and thrived upon the reasons. 
They did not observe that the more reasons one adduces, the 
more one nourished doubt and the stronger it becomes, that to 
present doubt with reasons with the intent of slaying it is like 
giving to a hungry monster one wants to be rid of the delicious 
food it likes best. No, doubt at least if one intends to slay it 
must not be presented with reasons, but one must do like Luther, 
command it to keep its mouth shut, 2 and to the same end keep 
one's own mouth clean and bring forth no reasons. 

Those, on the other hand, whose lives were marked by 'fol- 
lowing' had no doubt about the Ascension. And why not ? First 
of all, because their lives were too full of effort, too much sacri- 
ficed in daily suffering, to be able to sit in idleness and deal with 
reasons and doubts, odds or evens. The Ascension was a sure 
thing to them, but they were accustomed perhaps even more 
rarely to think about it or to dwell upon it because their life 

1 One of S. K.'s earliest philosophical works (left unfinished and unpublished) 
was Johannes Climacus^ or da omnibus dnbitandum est (1842-3), ridiculing, not 
Descartes, but the followers who blindly exalted this maxim. 

2 e.g. Werke, xlvii. 337 f. 



CHRIST IS THE WAY 89 

was so laborious and in the narrow way. It is like a warrior who 
possesses a gorgeous robe; he knows well that he has it, but he 
almost never looks at it, for his whole life is passed in daily combat 
and peril, and therefore he wears an everyday dress which gives 
him freedom of movement. So it was that those whose lives were 
marked by 'following' were convinced that their Lord and Master 
had ascended into heaven. And what contributed to this was 
again 'following'. All these daily torments of suffering which 
they had to bear, all these sacrifices they had to make, all this 
human opposition, scorn and mockery and grins and bloody 
cruelty, all this painfully prompted in the 'follower* the need 
which, like the Ascension, breaks or defies natural law (such in 
fact is the objection doubt raises), breaks in pieces the purely 
human reasons of comfort (how could these give comfort to men 
who must suffer because they have done well ?), and presses for 
another sort of comfort, pressingly needs the Ascension of their 
Lord and Master, and believingly presses through to the Ascen- 
sion. So it always is with human need, 'from the eater cometh 
forth meat* : where the need is, it produces as it were that which 
it needs. And the 'followers' verily had need of His Ascension in 
order to hold out in such a life as they led so therefore it was a 
certainty to them. But one who sits in idleness enjoying 'good 
days', or is busily engaged in bustle from morning till night, but 
never has suffered anything for the truth's sake, he really has no 
need, it is rather something he imagines, or something he lets 
himself be persuaded of for money. It almost might be said that 
he interests himself in it rather as a curiosity, this thing of the 
Ascension and so he doubts, naturally enough, for he has no 
need; or else he discovers several reasons, or another man is so 
kind as to present him with three reasons for . . . oh, well, it is 
evident at any rate that his need is not singularly great! 

And now as to thee, my hearer, how is it with thee ? Dost thou 
doubt the Ascension ? If so, do as I do; say to thyself, "Well one 
need not make a great fuss about such a doubt; I know very well 
whence it comes and what it is due to, namely, to the fact that in 
respect to "following'* I must have been sparing of myself, that 
in this respect my life has not been strenuous enough, that I have 
too easy a life, that I have spared myself the danger of witnessing 
for the truth and against falsehood.* Only do thus ! But above all, 
do not become important in thine own eyes by doubting. There 



go FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

is no justification for that, I assure thee, since all such doubt is 
really self-betrayal. No, make this admission to thyself and before 
God, and thou shalt see that one of two things will come to pass: 
either thou wilt be moved to venture farther out with respect to 
'following' and then certainty about the Ascension comes at 
once; or else thou dost humble thyself for having spared thyself, 
for having become a 'parlour-priest', and then at least thou wilt 
not permit thyself to doubt, but wilt say humbly, 'Will God be so 
gracious as to treat me as a child which is spared almost entirely 
the sufferings of a "follower", and then at least I will not be a 
naughty boy who on top of everything else doubts the Ascension.' 
Oh, when thou art living in opulence, admired, flattered, highly 
esteemed thou art tempted to say so many a word and to take 
part in so much which had better have been left alone, and for 
which remember this! thou shalt give an account and at 
the same time the Ascension is taken so lightly, perhaps in 
chancing to think of it thou art even in doubt and sayest, 'An 
ascension to heaven, that surely conflicts with all the laws of 
nature and with the "spirit in nature" 1 (meaning, I suppose, 
world soul). But when it is for a good cause (for otherwise it is 
unavailing, and even in a good cause it does indeed conflict with 
all merely human conceptions that one should suffer because 
one does well, because one is in the right, because one is loving), 
when it is for a good cause thou livest in poverty, forsaken, perse- 
cuted, ridiculed thou shalt see that thou wilt have no doubt 
about the Ascension . . . because thou hast need of it. And 
indeed not even so much as this is needed to stop doubt, for if 
thou wilt humble thyself before God with the confession that thy 
life is not distinguished as that of a 'follower' in the strictest sense, 
when thou dost humble thyself under this confession, thou wilt 
not presume to doubt. How might it be possible for thee to 
present thyself with a doubt when the answer might be, 'First 
go and become a follower in the strictest sense only such are 
permitted to speak on this subject and of them none has 
doubted/ 

1 Alluding to a book by -H. C. 0rsted entitled The Spirit in Nature. 



Ill 

IT IS THE SPIRIT THAT GIVETil LIFE 
Acts 2, : i 12, 

Pentecost 



THE PORTION OF SCRIPTURE APPOINTED FOR THE EPISTLE IS WRITTEN 
IN THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES BEGINNING 
WITH THE FIRST VERSE 

And when the day of Pentecost was come, they were all 
with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came 
a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it 
filled all the house where they were sitting. And there 
appeared unto them tongues like as of fire, which divided 
and sat upon each of them. And they w r ere all filled with 
the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues as 
the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling 
at Jerusalem, Jews, devout men, out of every nation under 
heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude 
came together and were confounded, because that every 
man heard them speak in his own language. And they were 
all amazed, and marvelled, saying one to another, 'Behold, 
are not all these which speak Galilaeans ? And how hear we 
every man in our own tongue in which we were born? Par- 
thians, and Medes, and Elamltes, and the dwellers in Meso- 
potamia, and in Judaea, and Cappadocia, in Pontus and Asia, 
in Phrygiaand Pamphilia, in Egypt, and in the parts of Libya 
about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews and proselytes, 
Cretes and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our tongues 
the wonderful works of God, 5 And they were all amazed, and 
were in doubt, saying one to another, 'What meaneth this ?' 

PRAYER 

Thou Holy Ghost, Thou malcest alive, bless also this our gathering, the speaker 
and the hearer; fresh from the heart it shall come, by Thine aid, do Thou let it also 
go to the heart. 

My hearer. If thou wilt give heed, not to the way one 
talks on holy days in our churches, but to the way 
they talk on week-days, and for the matter of that 
also on Sundays outside of church, thou wilt scarcely find any- 



94 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

one who does not believe in let us say, for example, the spirit 
of the age, the Zeitgeist. Even he who has taken leave of higher 
things and is rendered blissful by mediocrity, yea, even he who 
toils^slavishly for paltry ends or in the contemptible servitude of 
ill-gotten gain, even he believes, firmly and fully too, in the spirit 
of the age" Well, that is natural enough, it is by no means any- 
thing very lofty he believes in, for the spirit of the age is after all 
no higher than the age, it keeps close to the ground, so that it is 
the sort of spirit which is most like will-o'-the-wisp; but yet he 
believes in spirit. Or he believes in the world-spirit (Weltgelst\ 
that strong spirit (for allurements, yes), that powerful spirit (for 
delusions, yes), that ingenious spirit (for deceits, yes); that spirit 
which Christianity calls an evil spirit so that, in consideration of 
this, it is by no means anything very lofty he believes in when 
he believes in the world-spirit; but yet he believes in spirit. Or 
he believes in *the spirit of humanity \ not spirit in the individual, 
but in the race, that spirit which, when it is god-forsaken by 
having forsaken God, is again, according to Christianity's teach- 
ing, an evil spirit so that in view of this it is by no means any- 
thing very lofty he believes in when he believes in this spirit; 
but yet he believes in spirit. 

On the other hand, as soon as the talk is about a holy spirit 
how many, dost thou think, believe in it? Or when the talk is 
about an^evil spirit which is to be renounced how many, dost 
thou think, believe in such a thing ? 

How does this come about ? Is it perhaps because the situation 
becomes too serious when it is a holy spirit ? For the spirit of the 
age, the world-spirit, and such-like, I can talk about, believe in, 
and thereby I do not exactly need to think of anything definite, 
it is a sort of a spirit, but I am by no means bound by what I say; 
and not to be bound by what one says is something people set 
store by: how often one hears, *I will say this or that, but I will not 
be bound by my word.' But when it is a question of a Holy Spirit, 
and of believing in a Holy Spirit, one cannot talk without binding 
oneself, and then not without binding oneself to this Holy Spirit 
and renouncing the evil spirit this is too serious, that there is a 
Holy Spirit oh, seriousness! and also (to render seriousness 
secure) that there is an evil spirit how serious! Yes, he who 
believes in the spirit of the age and in the world-spirit, he to be 
sure, according to Christianity's opinion, believes in an evil spirit; 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 95 

but this is not his opinion, and in so far he does not believe in an 
evil spirit. For him, in a deeper sense, the opposition between 
good and evil does not really exist; slack or loose as he is in a 
literal sense, dissolute doubting in his faith, unstable in all his 
ways, pliant to every slightest wind of the age, the object of his 
faith is of the same sort, something airy, the spirit of the age or, 
worldly as he has become in his every thought, the object of his 
faith is concordant the world-spirit. 

But Christianity, which requires renunciation of the evil spirit, 
teaches that there is a Holy Spirit. And to-day in the Church we 
celebrate the festival of the Holy Spirit, Pentecost, in remem- 
brance of that day when the Spirit was first poured out upon the 
Apostles. So to-day it is the Holy Spirit one must speak about, 
as we will now do, speaking upon the text : 

IT IS THE SPIRIT WHICH GIVETH LIFE. 

My hearer. With regard to Christianity, there is nothing to 
which every man is by nature more inclined than to take it in 
vain. There is nothing whatsoever in Christianity, not one 
solitary Christian definition, which may not, by undergoing a 
little alteration, merely by leaving out a subordinate deter- 
minant, become something entirely different, something of which 
it can be said that *it has entered into the heart of man to believe* 
and so it is taken in vain. On the other hand, there is nothing 
which Christianity has secured itself against with greater vigilance 
and zeal than against being taken in vain. There is absolutely 
no definition of Christian truth given without the subordinate 
determinant which is posited at the outset by Christianity, namely, 
death, this thing of dying by which it would secure Christian 
truth against being taken in vain. They say, 'Christianity is 
gentle consolation, this is the gentle teaching of the grounds of 
consolation' yes, that cannot be denied, if only one first will die, 
die from (afdse]\ but that is not so gentle! They picture Christ, 
they say, 'Hear His voice, how invitingly He calls all unto Him, 
all who suffer, and promises to give them rest for their souls' 
and verily so it is, God forbid that I should say anything else; 
and yet, and yet, before this rest for the soul becomes thy portion, 
it is required (as the Inviter also says, and as His whole life here 
upon earth expresses, every blessed day and every blessed hour of 
the day) that thou must first die, die from is this so inviting? 



96 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

So it is also with this Christian truth: it is the Spirit which 
giveth life. To what feeling does a man cling tighter than to the 
vital feeling? What does he more strongly crave and more 
vehemently than to feel keenly the pulse of life in himself? What 
does he shudder at more than at dying ? But here is preached a 
life-giving Spirit. So let us grasp at it. Who will hesitate? 
Give us iffe, more life, that the vital feeling may expand in me, as 
though all of life were gathered together in my breast! 

But might this be what Christianity is, this dreadful error ? No, 
no! This bestowing of life in the Spirit is not a direct increment 
of the natural life of man, immediately continuous with this oh, 
blasphemy, oh, horror, thus to take Christianity in vain ! it is a 
new life. A new life, yes, and this is no mere phrase, as when the 
word is used for this or that, whenever something new begins to 
stir in us; no, a new life, literally a new life for (observe this 
' well !) death comes in between, this thing of being dead ; and a 
life on the other side of death, yes, that is a new life. 

Death comes in between, that is Christ's teaching, thou must 
die, precisely the life-giving Spirit is that which slays thee, this 
is the first expression of the life-giving Spirit, that thou must 
depart in death, that thou must die from (ajdge} 1 this is in 
order that thou rnayest not take Christianity in vain. A life- 
giving Spirit that is the invitation. Who would not grasp at it ? 
But die first that gives us pause! 

It is the Spirit which giveth life. Yes, it giveth life through 
death. For as it is said in an old hymn which would comfort the 
survivors for the loss of the deceased, 'With death we began to 
live*, so In a spiritual sense it is true that the communication of 
the life-giving Spirit begins with death. Think of to-day's 
festival! It was indeed a Spirit which makes alive which on this 
day was poured out upon the Apostles and verily it was also a 
life-giving Spirit, as is shown by their life, by their death, whereof 
we have witness in the history of the Church, which came into 
existence precisely by the fact that the Spirit which giveth life was 
communicated to the Apostles. But what was their condition 
before this? Ah, who like the Apostles could teach what it is to 

1 It is time to remark that, although dt and afd both, mean simply to die, the 
latter (literally, *to die from*} can be used metaphorically, as S. K. does here, in the 
sense of dying to self and to the world. An English translation is necessarily im- 
perfect. 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 97 

die unto the world and unto themselves? For who has ever 
cherished such great expectations as for some time the Apostles 
were in, a certain sense prompted to entertain? And whose ex- 
pectations ever were so disappointed ? Then came Easter morn- 
ing, it is true, and Christ rose from the grave, and then came the 
Ascension but then what further ? Yes, He then was carried up 
to glory but what then further? Oh, dost thou believe that any 
human, even the most audacious human hope could dare in the 
remotest way to engage in the task which was set the Apostles ? 
No, here every merely human hope must despair. Then came the 
Spirit which made alive. So then the Apostles were dead, dead to 
every merely earthly hope, to every human confidence in their 
own power or in human assistance. 

Therefore, first death, first thou must die to every merely 
earthly hope, to every merely human confidence, thou must die to 
thy selfishness or to the world ; for it is only through thy selfish- 
ness that the world has power over thee; if thou hast died to thy 
selfishness, thou hast died also to the world. But, naturally, there 
is nothing a man clings to so tight as to his selfishness which 
he clings to with his whole self! Ah, when in the hour of death 
soul and body are separated, it is not so painful as to be obliged 
to separate in one's lifetime from one's own soul! And a man 
does not cling so tight to his physical body as a man's selfishness 
clings to his selfishness ! Let me take an example modelled after 
those old tales about what a man in more ancient times has ex- 
perienced in the way of heart-felt sufferings, which these untried, 
sagacious times of ours will regard as a fable, possessing at most a 
little poetical value. Let us take an example, and to this end let 
me choose a subject about which we men talk so much and which 
employs us so much, I mean love. For love precisely is one of the 
strongest and deepest expressions of selfishness. So then think of 
a lover! 1 He saw the object, and thereupon he fell in love. And 
this object then became his eyes' delight and his heart's desire. 
And he grasped after it it was his eyes* delight and his heart's 
desire! And he grasped it, he held it in his hand it was his eyes' 
delight and his heart's desire! Then (so it goes in these old tales) 

l The lover* is S. K. and Regina is *the object'. Anyone who knows S, K. from 
his Journals will recognize (as his contemporaries could not) how intimately personal 
this whole paragraph is. In one of his earliest books, Fear and Trembling* he had 
likened his sacrifice of Regina to Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. 



98 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

a command was issued to him, 'Let go of this object!' ah, and 
it was his eyes* delight and his heart's desire! My hearer, let us 
take pains to apprehend rightly how deep this shaft must pene- 
trate if selfishness is really to be slain. For in his misery he cried, 
No> I will not let go, I cannot let go of this object; oh, have 
compassion upon me; if I may not retain it, well then, kill me, 
or at least let it be taken from rneP Thou canst well understand 
him; his selfishness would be wounded very deeply indeed by 
being deprived of the object, but he recognized justly that his 
selfishness would be still more deeply wounded if the requirement 
was that he should deprive himself of it. My hearer, let us go 
farther in order to follow the suffering into its deeper recesses 
when selfishness must be killed even more completely. Let us 
take the 'object' also into account. So then this object, which he 
had desired, which he grasped, of which he is in possession, his 
eyes' delight and his heart's desire, this object which he must 
let go, ah, his eyes' delight and his heart's desire, this object, let us 
assume for the sake of illuminating more strongly the pain of 
dying to it, this object is of the same opinion as he, that it would 
be cruel to sunder it from him and it is he who must do this ! 
He is to let go of that which no earthly power thinks of depriving 
him of, which now he finds it doubly difficult to let go, for (thou 
canst well imagine this) the object resorts to tears and prayers, 
invokes the living and the dead, both men and God, to prevent 
him and he it is who must let go of this object! Here we have 
(if indeed he manages to get round that sharp corner without 
losing his senses) here we have an example of what it is to die 
(afd). For not to see his wish, his hope, fulfilled, to be deprived 
of the object of his desire, his beloved that may be very painful, 
selfishness is wounded, but that does not necessarily mean to die. 
No, but to be obliged to deprive oneself of the object of desire of 
which one is in possession that is to wound selfishness at the 
root, as in the case of Abraham, when God required that Abraham 
himself, that he himself frightful! with his own hand oh, 
horror of madness! must sacrifice Isaac, Isaac, the gift so long 
and so lovingly expected, and the gift of God, for which Abraham 
conceived that he must give thanks his whole life long and would 
never be able to give thanks enough Isaac, his only son, the son 
of his old age, and the son of promise. Dost thou believe that 
death can smart so painfully? I do not. And in any case, when 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 99 

it is a question of death, it is then all over with, but with this 
thing of 'dying from 7 it is by no means all over with, for he does not 
die, there lies perhaps a long life before him . . . the deceased 



This is what it means to die. But before the Spirit can come which 

fiveth life thou must first die. Ah, sometimes when for a day or 
>r a longer period I have felt so indisposed, so weary, so incapaci- 
tated, so (this indeed is the way we express it) almost as if I were 
dead, then I too sighed within myself, 'Oh bring me life, life is 
what I need!' Or when perhaps I am taxed beyond my strength 
and discover, so I think, that I can hold out no longer; or when 
for a while it has been as if I had only misfortune in everything, 
and I sank down in despondency then I have sighed within 
myself, 'Life, bring me life!' But from this it does not follow 
that Christianity is of the opinion that this is what I need. Sup- 
pose it held another opinion and said, 'No, first die completely; 
this is thy misfortune, that thou dost yet cling to life, to thy life 
which thou callest a torment and a burden, die completely!' 
I have seen a man sink almost into despair, I have also heard him 
cry out, 'Bring me life, life, this is worse than death which puts an 
end to life, whereas I am as dead and yet not dead ! ' I am not a severe 
man ; if I knew any assuaging word, I should be very willing to 
comfort and cheer the man. And yet, and yet it is perfectly 
possible that what the sufferer had need of was really something 
else, that he needed harder sufferings. Harder sufferings ! Who 
is the cruel one who ventures to say such a thing ? My hearer, it 
is Christianity, the teaching which is offered at a selling-out price 
under the name of gentle comfort, whereas it yes, verily, it is 
the comfort of eternity and for ever, but indeed it must take a 
rather hard hold. For Christianity is not what we men, both 
thou and I, are only too prone to make of it, it is not a quack. A 
quack is at your service right away, and right away applies the 
remedy, and bungles everything. Christianity waits before 
applying its remedy, it does not heal every wretched little ailment 
by means of eternity this clearly is an impossibility as well as a 
self-contradiction it heals by means of eternity and for ever 
when the sickness is such that eternity can be applied that is to 
say, to this end thou must first die. Hence the severity of Chris- 
tianity, in order that it may not itself become twaddle (into which 
we men are so prone to transform it), and in order that it may not 



ioo FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

confirm thee in twaddle. And the Tightness of this them surely 
hast experienced in relation to smaller matters. Hast thou never 
had the experience I have that when perhaps thou hadst 
begun to moan and already to say, *I can't endure it any longer', 
then, the following day, when thou wast treated rather more 
sternly than ever and then what? Then thou wast able to do it! 
When the horses groan and pant, thinking that they are jaded 
and that therefore a handful of hay is what they need but when 
on the other hand, even with the halt of an instant the heavily 
loaded wagon would roll back to the brink and perhaps drag 
horse and driver and all with it into the abyss is it then so cruel 
of the driver that the blows fall frightfully, frightfully, as he never 
had had the heart to beat that team of horses especially, which 
were to him (such a thing may well be true) like the apple of his 
eye is that cruel, or is it loving ? Is it cruel to be (if one will) 
cruel when this is absolutely the only thing that can save from 
destruction or help one through ? So it is with dying (at afdge). 

My hearer. Then, then cometh the life-giving Spirit. When ? 
Why, when this has come to pass, when thou art deceased (afdad)\ 
for as it is said, *If we be dead with Christ, we shall also live with 
Him*, so also it may be said, *If we are to live with Him, we must 
also die with Him. 1 First death, then life. But when ? Well, when 
the first has come to pass; for with the coming of the life-giving 
Spirit it is as with the coming of the 'Comforter' which Christ 
promises the disciples. When comes the Comforter ? He comes 
when all the dreadful things which Christ predicted of His own 
life have come first, and the like horrors which He predicted 
concerning the lives of the disciples then comes the Comforter. 
And that He comes precisely at that same instant is not said; it is 
said only that it is when the first has come to pass, when this 
dying has occurred. Thus it is with the coming of the life-giving 
Spirit. 

But it comes, it does not disappoint by failure to appear. Did it 
not come to the Apostles^ did it disappoint them ? Did it not come 
later to the true believers, did it disappoint them by failing to make 
an appearance? 

No, it comes, and it brings the gifts of the Spirit: life and 
spirit. 

It brings faithy 'faith*, that only being in the strictest sense 
faith which is the gift of the Holy Spirit after death has come be- 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 101 

tween. For we men are not so precise in the use of words, we 
often speak of faith when in the strictest Christian sense it is not 
faith. In every man, with differences due to natural endowment, 
a stronger or weaker spontaneity (immediacy) is inborn. The 
stronger, the more vitally powerful it is, the longer it can hold 
out against opposition. And this power of resistance, this vital 
confidence in oneself, in the world, in mankind, and (among 
other things) in God, we call faith. But this is not using the word 
in a strictly Christian sense. Faith is against understanding, faith 
is on the other side of death. And when thou didst die, or didst 
die to thyself, to the world, thou didst at the same time die to all 
immediacy in thyself, and also to thine understanding. That is 
to say, when all confidence in thyself or in human support, and 
also in God as an immediate apprehension, when every probability 
is excluded, when it is dark as in the dark night it is in fact 
death that we are describing then comes the life-giving Spirit 
and brings faith. This strength is stronger than the whole world, 
it possesses the powers of eternity, it is the Spirit's gift from God, 
it is thy victory over the world, in which thou dost more than 
conquer. 

And next the Spirit brings Hofe y hope in the strictest Christian 
sense, this hope which is hope against hope. For in every man 
there is a spontaneous (immediate) hope, in one man it maybe 
more vitally strong than in another, but in death (i.e. when thou 
dost die from) every such hope dies and transforms itself into 
hopelessness. Into this night of hopelessness it is in fact death 
we are describing comes then the life-giving Spirit and brings 
hope, the hope of eternity. It is against hope, for according to that 
merely natural hope there was no hope left, and so this is hope 
against hope. The understanding says, *No, there is no hope* ; 
thou, however, art dead to thine understanding, and in so far as 
that is the case it holds its peace, but if in any way it gets a chance 
to put in a word again, it will begin at once where it left off, 
'there is no hope* and it will surely deride this new hope, the 
Spirit's gift, just as the shrewd and understanding men who were 
gathered together at Pentecost derided the Apostles and said that 
they were full of new wine, just so will it deride thee and say to 
thee, 'Thou must have been drunk when such a thing occurred to 
thee, at least thou must have been out of thy wits' there is none 
closer to knowing that than the understanding, and that is very 



102 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

understanding])?- said by the understanding, for to decease is also 
to die to the understanding, and the life-giving Spirit's hope is 
against the hope of the understanding. *It is enough to drive one 
to despair' , says the understanding, 'however, that one can 
understand. But that on the other side of this (the fact that there 
is no hope) there should be a new hope, yea, the hope that is, 
as surely as I call myself understanding, that is madness/ But 
the Spirit which giveth life (which the 'understanding* does not 
do) declares and bears witness: * "The hope" is against hope.' 

O thou who perhaps to the point of desperation art fighting 
hopelessly and in vain to find hope, it is this, is it not, which makes 
thee indignant, that in thine opinion thou canst absolutely 
victoriously make it evident even to a child or to the stupidest 
man that for thee there is no hope; and perhaps it is precisely 
this that embitters thee, that they will contradict this. Well then, 
entrust thyself to the Spirit, for with it thou canst talk, it acknow- 
ledges at once that thou art in the right, it says, 'That is quite right, 
and to me it is very important that this be insisted upon, for it is 
precisely from this that I, the Spirit, educe the proof that there is 
hope : hope against hope/ Canst thou require more ? Canst thou 
think of any treatment better adapted to thy situation in suffering ? 
It is granted that thou art in the right, that there is no hope; thou 
hast got the justice thou didst demand, and thou didst demand 
also to be what thou now art, to be spared all this prattle, all these 
loathsome grounds of consolation, thou art permitted, to thy 
great content, to be as sick as thou wilt without being disturbed 
by quacks, thou art permitted to do that which ends pain and 
quiets unrest, to turn away thy face and die, liberated from the 
baleful medical treatment of those who cannot bring new life but 
strive painfully to keep thee alive or hinder thee from dying and 
in addition to all this thou dost get the 'hope* which is against 
hope, the Spirit's gift. 

Finally, the Spirit also brings love. In other passages I have 
sought to show (what one cannot often enough lay stress upon, 
and never can make clear enough) that what we men extol under 
the name of love is selfishness, and that if we do not pay attention 
to this, the whole of Christianity becomes confusion to us. 

Only when thou art dead to selfishness, and therewith to the 
world, so that thou dost not love the world, neither the things that 
are in the world, dost not even love selfishly a single person 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 103 

when in love to God tfaou hast learnt to hate thyself only then 
can there be question of the love which Is Christian love. Accord- 
ing to.our merely human conceptions, love coheres 'immediately* 
with our nature; we regard it as a matter of course therefore that 
it is strongest in the days of youth, when the heart possesses in 
immediacy all its warmth and enthusiasm, opens itself to others 
in devotion, responds to others in devotion. And so too we regard 
it, if not as a matter of course, yet as the usual course of things, 
that afterwards, as a man grows older, his nature attaches itself 
less to others, is closer, does not open itself so receptively, does not 
so open-heartedly respond which conviction we also explain as a 
sorry consequence of sorry experiences. 'Alas,' we say, 'for this glad 
heart of youth, of our own youth as well, so trusting, so devoted 
(if in fact this is exactly true!), was disappointed so often, so 
bitterly, I had to learn to know men from quite a different side, 
and therefore (so there is a therefore!) a good part of love was 
quenched also in my heart/ 

Oh, my friend, how dost thou suppose the Apostles had learned 
to know man, does it seem to thee that it was from the favourable 
side ? Verily, if ever there was any one (yet among those who are 
always afoot with much talk about this young, full, loving, 
friendly heart of youth, such a one is hardly to be found) who was 
justified in saying, 'I have so learned to know men that I am sure 
they do not deserve to be loved* then it was Christ's Apostles! 
And this is an embittering experience; it is so natural to wish to 
find in men what one can love, and yet this is not an unreasonable 
experience when what is sought after is not the other's good, or 
not that alone. Not to find anything of the sort, to find the very 
opposite, and to find it on the scale the Apostles found it ah, 
that is enough to be the death of one ! And in a certain sense it was 
the death of the Apostles they died, everything grew dark 
round about them (it is in fact death we are talking of!), when 
they had the frightful experience that love is not loved, that it is 
hated, that it is mocked, that it is spat upon, that it is crucified, 
in this world, and crucified while the justice which condemns it 
tranquilly washes its hands, and while the voice of the populace 
is loud for the robber. So surely they swore eternal enmity to this 
unloving world? Ah, yes, in a certain sense, but in another 
aspect, no, no; in their love for God, in order that they might 
abide in love, they banded themselves, so to speak, together with 



104 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

God to love this unloving world the life-giving Spirit brought 
them love. And so the Apostles resolved, in likeness with the 
Pattern, to love, to suffer, to be sacrificed, for the sake of saving 
the unloving world. And this is love. 

Such gifts the life-giving Spirit brought to the Apostles at 
Pentecost oh, that the Spirit would also bring such gifts to us, 
there is verily great need of this in our times. 

My hearer, I have still a word I would say; but I will clothe it 
in a form of presentation which perhaps at the first glance will 
seem to thee less solemn, I do it, however, advisedly and inten- 
tionally, because I think that in this way it will make a truer 
impression upon thee. 

Once upon a time there was a rich man who ordered from 
abroad at a high price a pair of entirely faultless and high-bred 
horses which he desired to have for his own pleasure and for the 
pleasure of driving them himself. Then about a year or two 
elapsed. Anyone who previously had known these horses would 
not have been able to recognize them again. Their eyes had 
become dull and drowsy, their gait lacked style and decision, 
they couldn't endure anything, they couldn't hold out, they 
hardly could be driven four miles without having to stop on the 
way, sometimes they came to a standstill as he sat for all he was 
worth attempting to drive them, besides they had acquired all 
sorts of vices and bad habits, and in spite of the fact that they 
of course got fodder in over-abundance, they were falling off 
in flesh day by day. Then he had the King's coachman called. 
He drove them for a month in the whole region there was not a 
pair of horses that held their heads so proudly, whose glance was so 
fiery, whose gait was so handsome, no other pair of horses that 
could hold out so long, though it were to trot for more than a 
score of miles at a stretch without stopping. How came this 
about ? It is easy to see. The owner, who without being a coach- 
man pretended to be such, drove them in accordance with the 
horses* understanding of what it is to drive; the royal coachman 
drove them in accordance with the coachman's understanding of 
what it is to drive. 

So it is with us men. Oh, when I think of myself and of the 
countless men I have learnt to know, I have often said to myself 
despondently, *Here are talents and powers and capacities 
enough but the coachman is lacking,* Through a long period 



THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE 105 

of time, we men, from generation to generation have been, if I 
may so say, driven (to stick to the figure) in accordance with the 
horses' understanding of what it is to drive, we are directed, 
brought up, educated in accordance with man's conception of 
what it is to be a man. Behold therefore what we lack: exaltation, 
and what follows in turn frotn this, that we only can stand so little, 
impatiently employ at once the means of the instant, and in our 
impatience desire instantly to see the reward of our labour, which 
just for this reason is deferred. 

Once it was different. Once there was a time when it pleased 
the Deity (if I may venture to say so) to be Himself the coachman; 
and He drove the horses in accordance with the coachman's 
understanding of what it is to drive. Oh, what was a man not 
capable of *at that time! 

Think of to-day's" text! There sit twelve men, all of them 
belonging to that class of society which we call the common 
people. They had seen Him whom they adored as God, their 
Lord and Master, crucified ; as never could it be said of anyone 
even in the remotest, it can be said of them that they had seen 
everything lost. It is true, He thereupon went triumphantly to 
heaven but in this way also He is lost to them : and now they 
sit and wait for the Spirit to be imparted to them, so that thus, 
execrated as they are by the little nation they belong to, they may 
preach a doctrine which will arouse against them the hate of the 
whole world, that is the task; these twelve men are to transform 
the world and that on the most terrible terms, against its will. 
Truly, here the understanding is brought to a standstill ! In order 
now, so long after, to form merely a faint conception of it, the 
understanding is brought to a standstill supposing that one has 
any understanding; it is as if one were to lose one's understanding 
supposing one has any understanding to lose. 

It is Christianity that had to be put through. These twelve 
men, they put it through. They were in a sense men like us but 
they were well driven, yea, they were well driven ! 

Then came the next generation. They put Christianity through. 
They were men just like us but they were well driven ! Yea, 
verily, that they were! It was with them as with that pair of 
horses when the royal coachman drove them. Never has a man 
ever lifted his head so proudly in loftiness above the world as the 
first Christians did in humility before God! And just as that 



io6 FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 

pair of horses could trot, even if it were for a score of miles or more, 
without being pulled up to give them breath, so these ran, they 
ran at one stretch for three score years and ten without getting 
out of harness, without being pulled up anywhere; no, proud as 
they were in humility before God, they said, *It is not for us to lie 
down and dawdle on the w r ay, we come to a stop first ... at 
eternity!* It was Christianity that had to be put through; so they 
put it through, yea, that they did; but they also were well driven, 
yea, that they were ! 

O Holy Spirit we pray for ourselves and for all oh, Holy 
Spirit, Thou who dost make alive; here it is not talents we stand 
in need of, nor culture, nor shrewdness, rather there is here 
too much of all that ; but what we need is that Thou take away 
the power of mastery and give us life. True it is that a man 
experiences a shudder like that of death when Thou, to become 
the power in him, dost take the power from him oh, but if even 
animal creatures understand at a subsequent moment how well it 
is for them that the royal coachman took the reins, which in the 
first instance prompted them to shudder, and against which their 
mind rebelled should not then a man be able promptly to under- 
stand what a benefaction it is towards a man that Thou takest 
away the power and givest life? 



JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 
Recommended to this Present Time 

Second Series 

by 
S. Kierkegaard 



Copenliagen 
1876 



CONTENTS 
L Becoming Sober. 
II. Christ as Pattern, or No man can serve two masters. 



[P. Chr, Kierkegaard, Editor] 



PREFACE 

Well do I know, and I know only too well, how true It Is that the world wants to 
be deceived. In view of this I might perhaps have some hesitation in making public 
such a piece of advice as the present. 

Why is It I have none ? Because I have nothing whatever to do with the world. 
I address myself to the single Individual, to every individual, or to everyone as an 
individual. 

So when each individual does as I do when I write, shuts his door, reads for him- 
self, fully convinced, as indeed it is the truth, that I have not in the remotest way 
thought of wishing to approach him impertinently or to talk about him to others, 
inasmuch as I have been thinking only about myself; when he reads this as an Indivi- 
dual, so that it does not occur to him In the remotest way to think of anyone but 
himself then verily I need not fear that he might be angry with me for offering this 
advice. 

For what is it to be or to will to be the single Individual ? It Is to have and to will 
to have a conscience. But how could a man of conscience be angry at anyone for 
giving him true advice ? . He might rather be angry at the contrary. What wouldst 
thou say: is it insulting to treat a person not merely as a rational being but as a man 
of conscience to whom one declares the true position of affairs ? I should think It 
would be Insulting if one with the conceit of being shrewd were to treat a person like 
a child who could not endure to learn the truth, or like a fool whom one can induce to 
believe anything merely by nattering him j I should think that to hide the truth, to 
deceive, would be an insult to the person who Is thus treated, and that the deceived 
person is most deeply insulted when he Is pleased at being deceived. 

My dear reader, read aloud if possible. If thou wilt do this, let me thank thee ; 
if thou wilt not only do this thyself but prompt others to do so, let me thank each 
one severally, and thank thee again and again. 



I 

i Peter 4:7. Be ye therefore Sober 



BECOMING SOBER 

PRAYER 

FATHER in heaven, Thou art a spirit, and they that worship Thee must worship 
Thee in spirit and in truth but how in spirit and in truth if we are not sober, even 
if we are striving to be? Send therefore Thy Spirit into our hearts; ah, it is so often 
invoked that it may come to bring courage, and life, and power and strength, oh, that 
it first (this is indeed the condition for all the rest, and that the rest may be to our 
profit), oh, that first it might make us sober ! 

MY hearer. When the Apostles came forward on Pentecost, 
filled for the first time with the Holy Spirit, 'then the 
people were amazed and were in doubt, saying one to 
another, What meaneth this? Others, mocking, said, These 
men are drunk with new wine* (Acts 2:12 f.). So then no one 
was able to explain, or ventured to explain, what had occurred 
here; amazement and doubt seized them all, only the mockers 
attempted an explanation, that the Apostles were drunk, and 
at so early an hour, nine o'clock in the morning. Such was 
the explanation. But it does not suffice; for the striking thing 
is that they were in this same condition not only that morning, 
no, if they were drunk, they were drunk also the next morning, 
and the following, and a month later, and twenty years later, and 
up to the moment of their death, they were still drunk with that 
new wine which (according to the explanation of the mockers) 
they must have drunk that morning for otherwise the occur- 
rence on Pentecost is not explained by the explanation. Oh, 
profound mockery of the mockers* explanation ! 

Here, as in every case, it is evident that the world and Chris- 
tianity have the most opposite conceptions. The world says of the 
Apostles, more especially of the Apostle Peter as spokesman, 'He 
is drunk* and the Apostle Peter gives the warning, *Be ye sober.' 
So the worldly mind regards Christianity as drunkenness, and 
Christianity regards the worldly mind as drunkenness. 'Only be 
reasonable, come to thy senses, try to be sober', thus does the 
worldly mind address the Christian. And the Christian says to 
the worldly mind, "Only be reasonable, come to thy senses, try 
to be sober.* For the difference between the worldly mind and 



ii4 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

the Christian mind is not that the first holds one opinion and 
the second another; no, the difference always is that they hold 
opinions which are diametrically opposite, that what the one 
calls good the other calls evil, what the one calls love the other 
calls selfishness, what the one calls godliness the other calls 
ungodliness, what the one calls drunkenness the other calls 
sobriety. It is precisely the drunken man, the 'Apostle', who 
finds it necessary to press upon a sober world (as I can imagine 
it) the warning, *Be sober 1 . 

This precisely is the warning which perhaps is most apt to 
wound the hardened worldly mind, which in general is not very 
easily wounded or put out of countenance. For the wordly mind 
can put up with a great deal, one can say pretty nearly anything 
to it, except to call it drunkenness. T, says the worldly mind, 'I 
stick to what's certain; I don't believe anything, not the least 
thing, unless I can take hold of it and feel it; and I don't believe 
anybody, not my own child, not my wife, not my best friend; I 
believe only what can be proved for I stick to what's certain. 
I stick to what's certain, and therefore I have nothing to do in 
the remotest way with all those high-flown notions about other- 
worldliness, about eternity, and all that which the parsons (not for 
nothing) make women and children and simple folks believe; 
for one knows what one has, but not what one is going to get 
this is what I stick to. I stick to what 's certain. Therefore I never 
take part in playing the game people make so much ado about 
under the name of love, where one is always made a fool of, if one 
is not the person who makes a fool of the others; no, I don't love 
a single person but halt, there is one person I love, I do not 
say that I love him more than myself (that is so fanatical, and I am 
not a fanatic), but I love him just as much as myself, for this 

ferson is in fact myself; this person I do love, that is certain, and 
stick to what's certain. One may call me selfish and heartless 
and cunning and mean, for the matter of that one may call me a 
scoundrel and a knave that would never disconcert me for an 
instant, I stick to what's certain. The one thing, I believe, which 
might for an instant disconcert me would be if it should occur 
to anyone to say that I was drunk, inebriated, to say this of me, 
the coldest and calmest and clearest intelligence.* Yet the Apostle 
says, *Be sober!' and therewith he implies, *Thou art drunken; 
unhappy man, if only thou couldst see thyself, perceive that with 



BECOMING SOBER 115 

thee it is as with a drunkard when disgusting sight ! he hardly 
resembles a man to such a degree art thou intoxicated/ 

So it is that the worldly and the Christian are related to one 
another. It was not only of the Apostles it was said, and not only 
on Pentecost, that they were drunken with new wine ; no, it was 
and continues to be the world's judgement of the Christian life. 
And Christianity, on the other hand, is of the opinion that precisely 
the Apostles, and precisely on Pentecost, were in the highest 
degree sober, sheer spirit. And Christianity is of the opinion that 
it is precisely the true Christian who is sober, and on the other 
hand that in the exact degree he is less of a Christian, in that same 
degree he is more in a state of inebriation. And Christianity is of 
the opinion that the first effect it has, or the Spirit has, upon a 
man is to make him sober. In Christianity everything goes by 
pairs, or every determinant factor of Christianity is in the first 
instance its own opposite, whereas in the merely human or worldly 
sphere each is simply and directly what it is. Thus, in a merely 
human sense, a spirit which makes alive is a life-giving spirit, and 
nothing more; in Christian experience it is in the first instance the 
Spirit which killeth, which teaches how to 'die from*. Exaltation, 
in the merely human sense, is exaltation, nothing more; in the 
Christian sense it is in the first instance humiliation. So likewise 
inspiration, in the merely human sense, is inspiration; in the 
Christian sense inspiration is in the first instance to become sober. 

And it is about this we would speak, about 

BECOMING SOBER 

When in a merely human way distinction is made between 
being sober (spiritually understood) and being drunken, one is 
apt to associate sobriety with common sense, discretion, shrewd- 
ness, and all thargoes with this; and with drunkenness (spiritually 
understood) to associate enthusiasm, being venturesome, and 
such venturesomeness as leaves probability out of account. The 
common-sense, prudent, and shrewd man, who calls himself sober, 
therefore regards the enthusiasts with all their ventures as 
drunken persons, says this scornfully of them, and warns others 
not to be led astray by them. 

And perhaps in one sense they are right, even according to 
Christianity's opinion. For Christianity is very far from ex- 
tolling every enthusiasm, every venturesome risk, and Christ 



n6 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

Himself, who required that the 'disciple' should leave all to 
follow Him, give all to the poor, and even forbear to bury his 
father, even He says also (implying thereby that He does not 
require of every man absolutely that he should be a 'disciple'), 
'that one who intends to build a tower, will sit down first and 
consider the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it'. 

So Christianity also is of the opinion that there is a venturesome 
risk which is foolhardy, not praiseworthy. 

But then in fact Christianity is in agreement with these com- 
mon-sense, prudent, shrewd ones who, humanly speaking, are the 
so-called sober people? No, far from it; no, not with a single 
one of them. For between these so-called sober people there is a 
difference to be observed. Some employ their common sense, 
prudence, and shrewdness to coddle themselves in every way, so 
that they remain pitiful half-men, forgetting (what surely needs 
to be remembered in every sermon in Christendom) that not only 
thieves and murderers and whoremongers but also flabby and 
effeminate persons cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven ah, 
when some day the reckoning shall be made of the countless 
multitude of the human race, there will be found a greater number 
under the rubric 'The flabby \ than under all these rubrics taken 
together: 'Thieves', 'Robbers', 'Murderers'. Thus it is with 
some of the so-called sober people. Others, however, possess a 
stronger will-power, have more violent passions, a deeper urge 
for decision and action; and they employ their prudence and 
shrewdness somewhat differently. They venture farther out, tax 
their strength more, do not flee from every danger; but one thing 
stands fast for them : probability. Within the bounds of proba- 
bility they have at their disposal more possibilities than the others, 
they extort from probability declarations which it (for probability 
also is prudish and niggardly) refuses to the flabby ones; but one 
thing stands fast, immovably fast, they will not let go of proba- 
bility: to let go of that, they say, is to be drunken. 

So here is the endless difference from the Christian attitude; for 
Christianly, indeed merely religiously, considered, the man who 
never let go of probability never committed himself to God. All 
religious (not to say Christian) adventure is on the farther side of 
probability, is by letting go of probability. 

But then it is indeed true after all that Christianity is sheer 
foolhardiness, the common-sense people are right, it is drunken- 



BECOMING SOBER 117 

ness ? No ! It Is true enough that there are many who thought 
they were venturing in a Christian spirit when they ventured to 
let go of probability, and it was merely foolhardiness, even in the 
opinion of Christianity. For Christianity has its own particular 
way of being steadfast. There are, if I may so say, lightly built 
men who do not possess any great amount of shrewdness, sense, 
and prudence to ensure steadfastness, and for them it is only too 
easy to let go of probability and make a venture. Both in a Chris- 
tian and in a human sense this is drunkenness. But such people 
sometimes think that the situation becomes different for the fact 
that they refer their venture to God, that their venture is made in 
reliance upon God. And undeniably this would indeed alter the 
situation entirely it is just this which must be looked after and 
looked into, to make sure that it is really so, that it is reliance upon 
God. For to affix God's name to one's wishes, one's desires, one's 
plans, that too is easy, only too easy, for the lightly built; but from 
this it does not follow that their venture is in reliance upon God. 
No, when one lets go of probability in order to venture in reliance 
upon God, one has to acknowledge to oneself what is implied in this 
letting go of probability, namely, that when one thus ventures, it 
is just exactly as possible that one will be victorious as that one will 
be defeated. The fact that it is in reliance upon God he makes the 
venture affords in fact no immediate assurance of being victorious; 
herein precisely we see the precariousness of the venture of these 
lightly built men in reliance upon God, in the fact that they 
understand it as an assurance of being victorious. But this is not 
to venture in reliance upon God, it is to take God in vain. And 
what shall deter thee from this is precisely the fact that thou 
honestly and candidly hast an understanding with thyself that in 
letting go of probability to make a venture in reliance upon God, 
thou canst quite as well be said (humanly speaking, for eternally 
thy victory is nevertheless sure) to have prepared thereby thy 
destruction, as to have paved the way for victory. Lo, this is a 
deterrent not, however, from venturing in reliance upon God, 
but from taking God in vain by venturing. Only when thou 
hast an understanding with thyself on this point, only then canst 
thou venture in reliance upon God. Thou hast let go of probability ; 
to that extent, humanly speaking, it even may be probable thou 
wilt be defeated. But in spite of that thou art determined to go 
forth, to go forward, to venture in God's name. Good fortune 



og JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

attend thee! But it is true. Is it not, thou hast an understanding 
with thyself that it was not to ensure thy victory thou didst invoke 
God, but in order that thou (if it should please God not to let thee 
be victorious for victory is not impossible, for with God all 
things are possible; indeed it must not be impossible, for then thy 
venture would be presumptuous), that thou rnightest be in good 
understanding with God, that He will strengthen thee to bear it 
if thou must be defeated in a good cause, in a venture made in 
reliance upon God. But this is deterrent; and just as no living 
being could sneak past that hundred-headed monster which 
guarded the entrance to the realm of the dead, and just as no bird 
flew across the Dead Sea, so does no merely human foolhardiness 
get past this frightful understanding. However, if thou hast not 
taken heed that this death-dealing understanding comes between 
thee and thy venture in reliance upon God, thou hast taken God in 
vain, thy hardy venture is foolhardiness, the notion that it is made 
in reliance upon God is a vain imagination. 

On the other hand, the Christian principle stands fast, that the 
true Christian adventure lets go of probability. What cowardli- 
ness, worldliness, effeminacy has discovered and had the menda- 
city to call Christianity is not true to venture in this way is not 
tempting God. Oh, abominable mendacity, oh, scurvy slander 
against all the heroes of the faith, and the martyrs, and the wit- 
nesses for the truth, and the patterns ! But thus it always is with 
us ! What we wish to be exempted from is danger, and effort, and 
everything that flesh and blood objects to. Now it is true that 
Christianity is gentle, it may in the form of an admission 1 mark 
well: in the form of an admission! spare the individual from 
much, when he humbly confesses how it stands with him, it may 
also spare him from making the venture proper to Christianity, 
when he humbly confesses how it stands with him. But the 
worldliness in us verily will not let itself be satisfied with this ; it is 
never satisfied until it has contrived to get the wrong, the ungodly, 
made secure as an article of faith, as a duty, as a dogma, as true 
Christianity in order that we may renounce true Christianity as 
ungodliness. So it is with this worldly talk in Christendom about 
tempting God. It is I that want *good days', I that want to spare 
myself; but I will not for a moment confess this; no, I invert 
Christianity and say, *To venture out beyond probability is 
|vf ora p i n Training in Christianity, p. 71. 



BECOMING SOBER 119 

tempting God. Fie upon me ! Should I who am a Christian ! 
should I presume to tempt God?' And should I who am a 
cunning rascal ! not desist from that, when by this means I slip 
out from all effort, and at the same time, at a bargain price, slip 
into the reputation of being a god-fearing, pious Christian ? 

No, no, it is not thus ! Christianly, it shall stand fast O my 
God, support me, that I may be able to make it fast, for this shall 
stand fast, the fact that this, precisely this, is Christianity, to ven- 
ture in reliance upon God, to let go of probability, and that one 
who would be a Christian can be exempted from this only by a 
humiliating admission! This shall stand fast! O my God, do 
Thou make it fast: that as Christianity abominates whoring, 
murder, thieving, and everything else that can defile a man, it 
recognizes still another sort of defilement, namely, paltry shrewd- 
ness, effeminate common sense, and shabby servitude to pro- 
bability, and probability, which, Christianly understood, is perhaps 
the most dangerous defilement. Hence this is emphasized also 
in Holy Scripture, but these passages one never hears mentioned; 
it is emphasized, for the Scripture speaks in exactly the same 
sense of the cowardly and the effeminate as it does of robbers, 
murderers, and whoremongers; and it says the very same thing 
about them, that they shall not inherit the kingdom of God. Yes, 
truly Christianity abominates and regards as defilement what the 
world extols and regards as the highest thing, to behave always 
shrewdly; and Christianity abominates this defilement as when 
it first entered into the world it abominated idolatry but this 
deification of shrewdness in our times is precisely the idolatry of 
our times, Christianity's abomination. Not as though Christianity 
had any objection to shrewdness regarded as a talent, as a gift. 
No, far from it ! Neither does Christianity ignore how difficult it 
is when one is shrewd to have to refrain from acting shrewdly. 
Oh, it is difficult, and seldom is one to be seen who having become 
addicted to a vice gives it up entirely and how far more difficult 
to have shrewdness at hand every instant, to perceive with a 
shrewd eye what the shrewdest thing is, and the desirableness of 
being shrewd and then to have to refrain from acting shrewdly I 1 
This, however, Christ requires. For, Christianly speaking, this 

1 This is a sigh for S. K. possessed shrewdness, and he often had to complain 
how hard it was for him to act contrary to the shrewd counsel he was so well able to 
give himself. 



no JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

would be the eulogy pronounced, if there was a man of whom It 
could be said that he was the most sensible man of his times, the 
shrewdest man in the kingdom; it was known to all that if in a 
' difficult and complicated case one sought the shrewdest counsel, 
he never went in vain if he went to him, he went in vain only if 
he went to any other man but as for acting himself shrewdly, no 
he never did it ! With a purity like that of a virgin woman, like the 
modesty of a blushing youth, he abhorred acting shrewdly. His 
life was on the further side of probability, there it was he lived, 
there it was he breathed, there it was he ventured in reliance upon 
God he of all men the most sensible! 

This is Christianity! And with this the whole situation is 
inverted, so far as concerns the distinction between being sober 
(spiritually understood) and being drunken. We began with the 
notion that common sense, prudence, shrewdness was what is 
meant by being sober, and that venturing, venturing to let go of 
probability, was what is meant by being drunken. But Chris- 
tianity makes everything new. So it is here: Christianly, this 
thing of venturing, of venturing to let go of probability, is 
precisely what it means to be sober as the Apostles were on 
the day of Pentecost, were never more sober than when, in 
defiance of probability, they were merely instruments before 
God, oh, Christian sobriety! On the other hand, Christianly 
speaking, common sense, prudence, all this is how new indeed 
is the verdict, for that it might be censored is not yet the new, 
but that it is drunkenness! Yet what wonder? For it is not 
eternity, nor God, nor becoming transparent to oneself before 
God it is not this which inebriates. How indeed could it? 
Intoxicating drinks are always composite, fermented, as is that 
to which common sense and prudence and shrewdness are related, 
namely, probability. 

We will now go further in this Christian discourse about 
becoming sober and will see more particularly what it means. 

To become sober is to come to oneself in self-knowledge^ and 
before God^ as nothing before Him y yet infinitely, absolutely^ under 
obligation. 

To come to oneself. So then; to live on in complete ignorance 
of oneself, or entirely to misunderstand oneself, or to venture 
with blind reliance upon one's own powers and such-like, that is 
(therein we are in agreement with the merely human view), that 



BECOMING SOBER 121 

is not to come to oneself, it is to be drunken. But then, to live on, 
having accurate knowledge of and shrewd calculation upon one's 
own powers, talents, qualifications, possibilities, and in the same 
measure familiar with what human and worldly shrewdness 
teaches the initiated is that to come to oneself? Yes, according 
to the opinion of the merely human view. But not according to the 
Christian opinion ; for this is not to come to oneself, it is to come 
to the probable; on that road one never gets any farther. And to 
come to the probable is the way to become more and more 
drunken, more confused in one's head, and more and more heavy 
and uncertain in one's gait all this with the delusion that one 
is completely sober. For one never drinks oneself sober in the 
probability. The intoxicating effect of the probability as con- 
strued by a merely superficial knowledge of men and of the world 
is not so dangerous; on the other hand, the more profound the 
knowledge of men and of the world which is employed to distil 
as it were the probable, so much the more dangerous is its 
intoxicating effect. The probable blends within itself the know- 
ledge of good and evil indifferently^ and even if the probable seems 
clear, it has in truth never become clarified. The man who inquires 
about the probable, and about that alone, in order that he may at- 
tach himself to that, does not inquire which is the right and which 
is the wrong, which is the good and which is the evil, which is the 
true and which is the false no, he inquires indifferently, 'Which 
is the probable, that I may believe it for whether it be true is a 
matter of indifference, or at least of minor importance which is the 
probable, that I may attach myself to it and keep to it whether 
it be evil, whether it be wrong, is a matter of indifference, or at 
least of minor importance, if only it Is the probable or that which 
offers probability of attaining power/ Knowledge of the probable, 
the deeper it is, does not in a deeper sense lead a man to himself, 
but farther and farther away from his deeper self; it is only in the 
sense of selfishness that it brings him nearer and nearer to himself 
this is what the merely human view calls sobriety : Christianity 
calls it drunkenness. 

To come to oneself in self -knowledge. In self-knowledge. For 
in all other knowledge thou art away from thyself, forgetful of 
thyself, absent from thyself. This, however, is what the merely 
human view calls sobriety* To forget oneself, to come not to but 
away from oneself by losing oneself in knowing, in understanding. 



122 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

in thinking, in artistic production, &c. 3 precisely this is called 
sobriety. In the Christian view it is drunkenness. And is it 
indeed not so? Do we not say of a man who is a victim to strong 
drink that he forgets himself, drowns himself or his self? And 
when he has completely succeeded in this, when he has quite got 
rid of himself, we do not say, *He is sober* ; no, we say just the 
contrary. So it is with knowledge: there is only one sort of 
knowledge which brings a man to himself entirely, and that is 
self-knowledge; this is what it is to be sober, the true trans- 
parency. On the other hand, the merely human view thinks that 
self-knowledge is drunkenness, that it produces what drunken- 
ness produces: dizziness. This, however, is not so. No, it is 
precisely then a man grows dizzy, physically, when he has for- 
gotten himself in strong drink; and then it is that he is dizzy, 
spiritually understood, when he has lost himself in the know- 
ledge of something else, or, as he puts it, in objective knowledge 
call him, and thou shalt see, he awakes as it were from a dream, 
he has to rub his eyes as it were, to find himself, to remember 
what his name is, like a drunkard. 

To come to oneself in self-knowledge, and before God. For if 
self-knowledge does not lead to knowing oneself before God, 
then indeed there is something in what the merely human view 
says, that it leads to a certain emptiness which produces dizziness. 
Only by being before God can a man entirely come to himself in 
the transparency of sobriety. The merely human view thinks, 
on the contrary, that this thing of engaging oneself with God, 
with the infinite that nothing is more certain than that this is 
drunkenness, that this is just as certain as that one who from a ship 
gazes at the waves, or that he who from a lofty place peers down 
into the depths, or from a lesser height looks out over endless 
space where nothing arrests his gaze that it is not so certain this 
man will become dizzy as it is that he will become so who engages 
himself with God. It may seem, too, as if this might be so, and 
yet in Christianity's opinion it is just the opposite, precisely this 
is the way to become entirely sober so it is that a stronger drink 
is employed to make a man sober who has become drunk with a 
weaker beverage, although of course this stronger drink, by a 
frightful misuse of it, may be used for drunkenness. 

To come to oneself in self-knowledge, and before God, as 
nothing. The merely human view thinks that to become some- 



BECOMING SOBER 123 

thing is to become sober; Christianity thinks that precisely to 
becoming nothing before God is the way, and that if it could 
occur to anyone to wish to be something before God, this is 
drunkenness, or is wishing to abuse the stronger means which 
can be used to make a man sober. 

To become nothing before God, and yet infinitely \ absolutely 
under obligation. The merely human view holds the contrary 
opinion, that being sober is recognizable precisely in the fact that 
one is moderate in all things, that one observes the sober maxim, 
'to a certain degree'. So it is also in the case of duties: 'That in- 
deed would be the sure way to becoming deranged in mind, the 
sure way to drunkenness or madness, if one were to abandon 
oneself to the absolute and, as this implies, abandons oneself 
absolutely to it.' Christianity thinks that it is precisely the absolute, 
and this alone, or that the impression, the pressure, of the absolute 
is capable of making a man entirely sober, when he (for otherwise 
he has not received the impression of the absolute) absolutely 
surrenders himself to its sway; and that, on the other hand, this 
maxim, 'to a certain degree', is precisely what intoxicates, anaes- 
thetizes, makes one heavy and lethargic and torpid and dull, 
pretty much like an habitual drunkard, of whom it is said that he 
falls into a state of drowsiness. 

And so it is in fact, the absolute precisely is the only thing that 
can make a man entirely sober. Let me represent this in figurative 
language, and let it not disturb thee if the language does not seem 
solemn enough; I intentionally put it thus in order that thou 
mayest get an impression all the more true of what is represented. 
If thou wert to ask a peasant, a cabman, a postilion, a liveryman, 
'What does the coachman use the whip for?* thou shalt get the 
same reply from them all: 'Of course it is to make the horse go/ 
Ask the King's coachman, 'What does a coachman use the whip 
for?* and thou shalt hear him reply, 'Principally, it is used to make 
the horses stand still.' This is the distinction between being a 
simple driver and a good driver. Now further. Hast thou ever 
observed how the King's coachman comports himself? Or if 
thou hast not observed that, then let me describe it to thee. He 
sits high on his box, and just because he sits so high he has the 
horses all the more under his control. In certain circumstances, 
however, he does not consider this enough. He raises himself 
in his seat, concentrating all his physical force in the muscular 



124 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

arm which wields the whip* then one lash falls; it was frightful. 
Generally one lash is enough, but sometimes the horse makes a 
desperate plunge one lash more. That suffices. He sits down. 
But the horse? First a tremor passes through its whole body, 
actually it seems as if this fiery, powerful creature were hardly 
able to support itself upon its legs; that is the first effect, it is not 
so much the pain that makes it tremble as the fact that the coach- 
man as O nly the King's coachman can has wholly concentrated 
himself in giving emphasis to the lash, so that the horse is aware 
(not so much by reason of the pain as by something else) who it is 
that delivers the lash. Then this tremor decreases, there is left 
now only a slight shudder, but it is as if every muscle, every fibre 
quivered. Now this is over now the horse stands still, absolutely 
still. What was this ? It got the impression of the absolute, hence 
it is absolutely still. When a horse which the royal coachman 
drives stands still, it is not at all the same thing as when a cab- 
horse stands still, for in the latter case this means merely that it is 
not going, and there is no art required for that; whereas in the 
first case, to stand still is an act, an effort, the most strenuous 
effort, and also the horse's highest art, and it stands absolutely 
still. How shall I describe this ? Let me use another figure which 
comes to the same thing. In daily speech we talk in a way about 
its being still weather, though it perfectly well may be blowing a 
little, or there may be at least a slight breeze, it is only what in a 
way we call still weather. But hast thou never noticed another 
sort of stillness ? Just before a thunder-storm comes up there 
sometimes is such a stillness; it is of a different sort entirely; 
not a leaf stirs, not a breath of air, it is as though all nature stood 
still, although in fact a slight, almost imperceptible shudder passes 
through everything. What does the absolute stillness of this 
imperceptible shudder signify? It signifies that the absolute is 
expected, the thunder-storm and the horse's absolute stillness, 
that was after having got the impression of the absolute. 

But it is about this we were talking, about the fact that the 
Impression of the absolute makes one sober, and at the same time 
alert ('watchful' is the word which the Apostle adjoins in our text) 
is not that horse a symbol of this as it were ? It got the impres- 
sion of the absolute, and it became absolutely still, sober, as it were, 
and watchful. Perhaps it was quite a young horse, which thus 
needed the Impression of the absolute, perhaps it was an older 



BECOMING SOBER 125 

horse, but one which In its old age had become shrewd, sober, 
in its opinions, and hence thought that everything should be 'to 
a certain degree*, including this thing of standing still, so that 
one does not stand quite absolutely still, or one makes oneself a 
bit comfortable, because it is such an effort to stand still in this 
absolute sense. At all events, the royal coachman was of a different 
opinion, he conveyed the impression of the absolute. And that 
the King's coachman constantly does. When one is only a simple 
driver, there is no cracking of the whip; a cab-driver or a peasant 
has no snap to his whip what need of such a luxury when he 
prefers to belabour the beast with the butt? But the gentleman's 
coachman cracks the whip, especially when he is driving the 
gentry; and when he draws up he sits and encourages the horses 
by cracking the whip. He expresses the fact that he is a good 
driver, but he does not give expression to the absolute. The 
King's coachman, on the other hand, does not crack the whip, 
he gives expression to the absolute, His Royal Majesty must not 
notice in any accidental way that the coachman is driving. He 
keeps absolutely still. Then he arrives home; he throws down 
the reins that very instant the horses understand that 'he* is no 
longer driving. Thereupon out come several grooms and, lo! 
the absolute is over with for the time being, then one can cool 
off or make oneself comfortable according to the circumstances, 
one is no longer in a solemn sense altogether oneself, altogether 
sober, the absolute is over with for the time being. 

For only the absolute makes one entirely sober. 

But that we all of us are surely, we have surely received the 
impression of the absolute, the absolute impression of it ? For 
what is Christianity ? Christianity is the absolute and we indeed 
are all of us Christians ! And what is the preaching of Christianity ? 
It is the preaching of the absolute and we have in fact a thou- 
sand parsons! 

Yet I have never seen any one of whom I could venture to 
say, what I would not at all venture to say of myself, that his life 
expressed the absolute impression of the absolute, or that he was 
entirely sober. Alas, we have all of us to a certain degree become 
addicted to this intoxicating, *to a certain degree*, with the dif- 
ference which is observable also in drunkards, that some drink 
openly, making no concealment, and others, the worst of them, 
drink on the sly so likewise there are some who expressly admit 



126 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

that since their lives express only this thing of 'to a certain 
degree', their Christianity is after all not really Christianity; 
others whose lives express only this thing of *to a certain degree* 
seek to maintain the appearance that they are true Christians, 
that their Christianity is all right, that it is the true Christianity. 
Wouldst thou have a picture of life in Christendom, showing 
how it compares with the Christian life ? then I will present to thee 
such a picture, to show how it is we live Christianly, and how our 
life compares with Christianity, the absolute. And be not dis- 
turbed by the notion that the form of presentation is perhaps not 
serious and solemn enough, for, believe me, the solemnity of 
solemn Sunday discourses is so far, in a Christian sense, from 
being real seriousness that it rather diverts attention from the one 
really serious question, what reality looks like, what our life is, 
where we are. And do not by any means suppose that I speak as 
I do because I feel myself to be better than others; no, no, already 
I have made the admission about myself, and I here repeat it, 
that I am coddled like all the others; and, on the other hand, my 
life has always expressed sincere sympathy with the experience 
of being tried by the bothers and cares which are capable of 
tormenting so greatly a poor human being. But nevertheless 
Christianity requires us to be spirit, to strive thereafter, and the 
seriou^ question is, what life we lead. So then, I hope, thou also 
wilt willingly, honestly, and candidly, with seriousness and with 
due attention (not mocking me, which would divert attention), 
apply thyself to this investigation* Imagine a candidate in theo- 
logy. Let it be me, I also indeed am a candidate in theology. 
He has already been a candidate for some few years, and now he 
enters upon that period of life when it is said of him that 'he is 
seeking'. 1 *A candidate in theology' 'seeks': when the riddle is 
proposed in these terms, one does not need a particularly lively 
imagination to guess at once what it is he 'seeks* of course it is 
the kingdom of God (Matt. 6:33). However, thy guess is wrong ; 
no, he seeks something else, a parish, a living he seeks this almost 
absolutely; in other respects the affair has nothing to do with the 
absolute, nor does it betray any impression of the absolute. He 
seeks. In his search he runs from Herod to Pilate, recommends 

1 This tale of the candidate who 'seeks* was retold, more briefly and far better, 
in one of the numbers of the Instant \ and it is said that in Denmark every candidate 

in theology knows it well. 



BECOMING SOBER 127 

himself before ministers and secretaries, he writes and writes, 
one sheet of stamped paper after another for the supplication 
must be written on paper which bears the stamp of the govern- 
ment, perhaps one might call this the impression of the absolute, 
otherwise there is nothing of the sort here. A year passes; he had 
almost worn himself out with his running and seeking, which 
can hardly be said to be in the service of the absolute, except (as 
has been remarked) that he seeks 'absolutely everything'. Finally 
he gets what he sought; he finds the Scriptural text confirmed, 
*Seek and ye shall find*; but the absolute he did not find, it was 
only a small living but after all it was not the absolute he was 
seeking. Still, he is at peace; and indeed he is now in need of 
repose, so that he can rest himself and his legs after the much 
seeking. However, when he makes himself more precisely ac- 
quainted with the income of the living, he discovers to his dismay 
that it is a few hundred dollars less than he had supposed. This is 
exceedingly calamitous for him, as, humanly speaking, one can 
well understand and can agree with him about it. It is doubly un- 
pleasant for him because at the same time he has found something 
else which he sought concurrently, namely, a wife, which quite 
obviously is related to a living, and maybe each year more so. He 
loses heart. He buys again a sheet of stamped paper, is already 
afoot to put in a supplication to be allowed to withdraw* How- 
ever, some of his friends get him to give this up. So the thing is 
decided. He becomes a parson. Now he is to be installed by the 
Dean and is himself to deliver the inaugural address. The Dean 
is a man of intelligence and learning, not without an eye for world- 
history, much to his own profit and that of the congregation. He 
presents the new parson to the congregation, makes an address, 
and chooses for his text the words of the Apostle, *Lo, we have 
left all and followed Thee.* Upon this text he speaks pithily and 
forcefully; he shows that, especially in view of the movements of 
these times, the minister of the Word must now be prepared to 
sacrifice everything, though it were life and blood and the very 
reverend speaker knows that the young man he installs (yes, as 
I have said, we can very well understand the young man, for that 
is human ; but we cannot so well understand the Dean) happened 
to be desirous of withdrawing because the living was a few 
hundred dollars too little. Thereupon the new parson mounts the 
pulpit. And the Gospel for the day, upon which he is to preach, 



128 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

is very opportunely! 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God/ 
Truly, when one recalls what this young man had to go through 
with during the laborious year of seeking, this 'seek first' is the 
last thing, one would be likely to think of! So he preaches. And 
it was in every respect a good sermon; even the Bishop, who was 
present, said; 'It was a capital sermon, and excellently delivered, 
he is really an orator.' 'Yes, but then, if it were to be judged 
Christianly/ 'Good gracious, it was an entirely Christian ser- 
mon, it was the sound, unalloyed doctrine, and the stress he laid 
upon/rj/ to seek God's kingdom was not without thrilling effect/ 
4 Yes, but now, Christianly judged, I mean, how far was there 
here a correspondence between the preacher's life and his dis- 
course ? I could hardly free myself entirely from the thought that 
the speaker who for me is a true picture of us all cannot 
precisely be said with truth to have sought first God's kingdom.' 
'That's not at all required.' 'Oh, excuse me, but that is what 
he preached about, that we first should seek God's kingdom/ 
* Quite so, that is exactly the way he should preach, that is what is 
required of him. It is the doctrine that has to be attended to, the 
doctrine has to be preached pure and unalloyed/ 

This represents about the way Christendom stands related to 
Christianity, the absolute. After running round about on a score 
of errands (alas, humanly speaking, after having had to put up 
with a great deal) one gets one's finite existence made secure, and 
then we get a sermon about seeking first the kingdom of God. 

Is this sobriety or is it drunkenness ? The merely human view 
thinks that precisely this is to be sober, this assuring oneself first 
of the finite, and then next preaching about first seeking God's 
kingdom. We hold the Holy Scripture in high honour. When 
e.g. an oath is to be particularly solemn, we swear by laying the 
hand upon the Holy Scripture which forbids swearing. When 
one has first, after long seeking, made oneself secure of the finite, 
one then swears by laying his hand upon this book which bids him 
to seek first the kingdom of God. And this we men regard as 
sobriety, this thing of first making the temporal secure I do no 
better myself. 

Yes, in truth, by putting myself seriously to the test I have been 
obliged to admit that in case I were contemporaneous with one 
whose life expressed the fact that he first sought the kingdom of 
God, and so expressed the absolute, and that he absolutely related 



BECOMING SOBER 129 

himself to the absolute, or that he was 'spirit', lost to, a stranger to, 
dead to all temporal, finite, earthly motives I could not keep up 
with him, every instant I should lose my patience and be tempted 
to call him a drunkard, him who is the only sober one. 

For the true situation is this. We men' are all of us more or 
less drunken. But with us it is as with a man who is full, but not 
entirely full, so that he has not lost consciousness, no, he has just 
the consciousness that he is slightly full, and just for this reason 
he is careful to hide this from others, if possible from himself. 
What does he do then ? He seeks something to hold on to, thus 
he walks close to the houses, and so walks straight without turning 
dizzy a sober man. But across an open square he will not ven- 
ture to walk, for thus it would be revealed, what he himself knows, 
that he is full. So It is, spiritually understood, with us men. We 
have a suspicion of ourselves, we know fairly well within our- 
selves that we are not thoroughly sober. But then shrewdness 
and common sense and discretion come to our aid, so that by this 
help we can get something to hold on to the finite. And then 
we walk straight and with confidence, without turning dizzy 
we are entirely sober. But in case the absolute were absolutely to 
cast a glance at us (yet from this glance we withdraw, It Is for this 
reason we hide among finite things, as Adam hid among the trees), 
or In case we were to cast a glance Infinitely at the Infinite (yet 
we keep ourselves from doing this, it Is for this reason we busily 
employ our eyes upon errands In the service of finitude) in case 
the absolute were to cast a glance at us or we at it, then it would 
be revealed that we are drunk. Such is the true situation. But 
in our thieves' Latin we men express It differently, we maintain 
that we are shrewd, sensible, and discreet persons, that we are 
sober, and that it is precisely the absolute which would Intoxicate 
us. This is as if that drunken man were to say, 'I am sober; but 
If I were to walk across a large square, that large square would 
make me drunk/ 'But, my good man, a large square surely Is 
not something to drink. How can it make one drunk? And a 
sober man can perfectly well walk across a large square without 
getting drunk/ This means that the large square, or wanting to 
walk across it, 'reveals that the man is drunk; but the man says 
it Is the square that does this, that he Is sober. For In fact he 
rubs along the side of the houses, or at the most walks In the 
middle of the way when it Is through narrow alleys where the 



I 3 o JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

houses still are a support then it is not noticed that the man 

Is full 

This is Christianity's opinion. It is not the absolute which 
intoxicates, but it is the absolute which reveals that we are drunk, 
which we know well enough ourselves, and therefore shrewdly 
keep a hold on finite things, rub along the walls of the houses, 
remain in narrow alleys, never venture out into the infinite. And 
it is Christianity's opinion that it is precisely the absolute which 
makes sober, after it has first revealed that we are drunk. Oh, 
how cunning we men are, and how cunningly we know how to 
employ language! We chatter as nearly in imitation of the truth 
as possible; heard cursorily it is as though we were saying the 
same thing. We leave out the little subordinate clause, 'it 
reveals', and so we say, The absolute makes one drunk/ This is 
thieves' Latin, Christianity says: The absolute reveals that thou 
art drunk, and there is only one thing that can make a man entirely 
sober: the absolute/ 

When the Apostles spoke on the first Pentecost they were never 
more sober than precisely on that day, their lives completely 
expressed the absolute, they had completely come to themselves in 
self-knowledge before God as nothing, that is, as mere instru- 
ments in His hand ? lost to and delivered from every personal aim, 
burnt out to sheer spirit, completely sober but derision said, 
They are full of new wine'; and the shrewd, sensible, discreet, 
merely human view might say, They are drunk/ 

TO BECOME SOBER JSt TO COMf SO CLOSE TO ONESELF IN ONE*S 
UNDERSTANDING, ONE*S KNOWING,* THAT AtL ONE'S UNDER- 
STANDING BECOMES ACTION 

Here again of course _the merely human view holds exactly the 
contrary opinion, that this is just drunkenness, whereas that is 
sobriety which the shrewd, the common-sense, the discreet people 
exemplify, taking care to keep their understanding, their know- 
ing, at a due distance from their lives, or their lives at a due 
distance from it, not letting it acquire power over them 'such 
a thing could occur only to a lunatic or a drunkard'. For to 'know*, 
that is pleasure; and no sensible .man, no cultured person, wants 
to be ignorant of what the right thing is, he would be insulted 
if anyone were to charge him with not knowing it but to do 



BECOMING SOBER 131 

accordingly, that is an exertion. To 'understand* is a pleasure; 
also this thing of understanding, of knowing, precisely how 
cunning and crafty we men are., that we all know how to talk about 
the Good, no cultivated person would endure to be in ignorance 
of this and not to be able himself to describe it profoundly and 
tellingly; for this thing of understanding, though it be an under- 
standing of the mystery of craftiness, is a pleasure. But then to 
want to strive to be oneself the honest, the sincere, the dis- 
interested man no, that would be an exertion. On the other 
hand, even the greatest exertion (if one will) in relation to knowing, 
to understanding, is only a pleasure, as the huntsman's exertion, 
his sweat and toil, to capture a beast, or as the fisherman's per- 
severance, is a pleasure; but to do in accordance with what one 
knows, what one understands, that is an exertion. 

Therefore we men, cunning as we always are in relation to God 
and godly truth, have concentrated our whole attention upon 
understanding and knowing; we pretend that it is here the diffi- 
culty lies, and that then the consequence naturally follows that if 
only we understood what is right, it then follows as a matter of 
course that we would do it. Oh, tragic misunderstanding, or cun- 
ning invention! No, infinitely farther than from the profoundest 
ignorance to the clearest understanding, infinitely farther is the 
distance from the clearest understanding to doing accordingly; 
indeed, in the first instance there is only a difference of degree, in 
the other there is an essential difference of kind. All my labour 
with respect to knowing has no effect upon my life, upon its 
lusts, its passions, its selfishness ; it leaves me entirely unchanged 
it is my action which changes my life. However much there- 
fore an" Q^li^^^Tfr*^^^^fS^^ i jri'3Lj have erred, compared 
with our age it was generally in the right when it translated at once 
Christian thought into action, which is the real Christian sim- 
plicity. For indeed in our age also they talk about the importance 
of presenting Christianity simply, not elaborately, and grandi- 
loquently and about this subject they contend in the barter of 
thought, they write books about it, it becomes a science all for 
itself, perhaps one may ^even make a living out of it and become a 
professor in this faculty, but they forget or ignore the fact that 
the truly simple way of presenting Christianity is . . ..to do it. 

To do it, however, is an exertion, an exertion like the deatn- 
throe, it is in fact to 'die from* (afdse)^ but to depict Christian 



132 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

truth, that is a pleasure. And by 'doing the Christian doctrine* 
thou wilt at the same time lose men's friendship, perhaps even 
stir them up to persecute thee and what wonder, indeed, for 
how could living men, who with their whole soul cling to this life 
and all that belongs to it, how could they tranquilly put up with 
having a deceased (Afded) person among them ? On the other 
hand, by merely depicting Christianity (especially when at the 
same time thou dost assure thyself of profiting by it, so as to 
become very popular and perfectly well understood by means of 
. . . the profit thou hast) thou wilt even be able to have great 
success among men. For oh that I had a voice which could 
make itself heard, that I could impart to it the significance a 
dying man's word has, and that what is said might continue to 
reverberate, it is so decisively important! In the possibility 
Christianity Is easy; and merely as depicted or entertained as a 
possibility it pleases: in reality it is so hard, and expressed in 
reality, or as action, it incites people against thee. How often 
I have come back to this point! When thou seest an orator who 
merely with some talent depicts Christianity, but no more than 
that, depicts Christianity and so presents it as a possibility he 
Is honoured, highly esteemed, almost deified by people. How 
natural it is to argue thus: If then in addition to this his life gave 
expression to it, how greatly he then would have been loved ! O 
my dear man, let him guard himself well against that! 

And this, this precisely, the shrewd, discreet man understands, 
and hence (for he is sober) he is so prudent in establishing a 
yawning gulf between his understanding, his knowing, and his 
life; for he is sober. 

But Christianity says, 'He is drunk, he maintains himself in a 
state of drunkenness, for he shudders at the consequence of being 
sober even for a single day/ And as a drunken man does not know 
what he does, so neither does the shrewd, sensible man know 
what he does, that it is to his own destruction he thus develops 
his knowing, his understanding; for as a sober man has said, *A 
man is proud of his understanding and does not reflect that it is 
according to that he shall be judged.' For the more one has 
understood, and the better he has understood it, the severer the 
judgement when one day eternity will compel him to be sober. 
But sober he certainly is not, any more than a man is sober 
because with great shrewdness he knows how to calculate exactly 



BECOMING SOBER i 35 

what he needs in order to assure himself of being In such a 
condition that consciousness does not awaken disturbingly. He 
extends his knowing, his understanding; there is nothing in that, 
he thinks, which resembles drunkenness. He defends himself 
against his knowledge; with prodigious shrewdness he knows 
how to defend himself against his knowledge there is surely 
nothing in that, he thinks, to indicate drunkenness. But why 
does he defend himself against his right knowledge? Why? 
Because at bottom he knows it would reveal to him that he "is 
drunk as it will do when one day eternity shall prevent him 
from defending himself against it. 

The true situation is this. In every man there is a talent, 
understanding. And every man, the most knowing and the most 
limited, is in his knowing far ahead of what he is in his life, or of 
what his life expresses. This disproportion, however, we men are 
less concerned about. Upon knowing, on the other hand, we lay 
great store, and all strive, each one for himself, to develop his 
understanding more and more. 

'But', says the sensible man, 'the thing one must be careful 
about is the direction one's knowing takes. In case my knowing 
turns inward towards myself, in case I am not careful to prevent 
this, then my knowing becomes highly intoxicating, it is the way 
to become completely drunk; for then there comes about a 
drunken confusion between knowing and the knower, so that the 
knower himself will come to resemble, will actually be, the thing 
known. And this is drunkenness. That this is the case thou wilt 
promptly discover. For if thy knowing takes such a turn, and if 
thou dost give in to it, the end will soon be that thou wilt come 
toppling into reality like a drunkard, pitching thyself heedlessly 
into heedless action, without giving understanding and shrewd- 
ness time to take due heed of what is advantageous, what is 
profitable. That 's why we, the sober people, give warning not 
against knowing and extending one's knowledge, but against 
letting one's knowledge take the inward direction, for then it is 
intoxicating/ This is thieves* Latin. It makes out that it is one's 
knowing which intoxicates by thus taking the inward direction, 
instead of saying that just in this way it will reveal that one is 
drunk, drunk through clinging to this earthly life, the temporal, 
the worldly, the selfish. And this is what one is afraid of when 
one throws upon knowing the blame for being an intoxicant. One 



134 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

is afraid that his knowing, turned against himself inwardly, will 
illuminate the drunken condition inside, will illuminate the fact 
that he prefers to remain in this condition, will drag him with it 
out of this condition, and by the consequences of this step will 
make it impossible for him to slip back into the beloved condition, 
into drunkenness. 

Christianity, on the contrary, says that just the fact that one's 
knowing turns against oneself inwardly, that just this is what 
makes one sober, that only that man is quite sober whose under- 
standing, whose knowing, is action, that therefore it is not at 
all necessary to expend so much effort upon developing one's 
understanding, if only care be taken to ensure that it gets an 
inward direction, that it is craftiness to direct all one's attention 
and concentrate all one's powers upon developing one's under- 
standing, that a man with only a slender understanding, but with 
this turned inward and so translated into action, is sober, and that 
a man with the greatest understanding, but turned in the opposite 
direction, is completely drunk. 

A competent judge of such matters has said that it was rare to 
see anyone write humbly about humility, doubtfully about doubt, 
&c. This means that it is rare to find a presentation of which it 
can be said that the presentation is the thing presented, so that (to 
cite one of his examples) doubt is imparted in a doubting form, as 
the Greeks did it, whereas in our age one must first become (how 
reassuring!) a professor, decorated, married, to impart as an 
article of" faith to believing hearers *doubt about everything*. 
But still rarer than such a presentation which is the thing pre- 
sented, still rarer is it than a man's understanding of a thing is his 
action, that the fact of his understanding what ought to be done 
is expressed by oh, noble simplicity! his doing it! 

No, there is nothing more deceitful than the human heart, and 
never perhaps does it display itself more clearly than by this 
disproportion between our understanding and our action. If, this 
were to be severely judged, the verdict might be that we are all 
hypocrites. The Apostle is milder, he says only that we are 
drunk but we shrewd, sensible, discreet people say, *On the 
contrary, it is we who are sober, it is the Apostle who is drunk. 
Or is it not drunkenness to let one's knowing get such a power 
over one that it hurls itself upon one and therewith (" reminds 
him that he is drunk") drags him out into the extremest decisions. 



BECOMING SOBER 135 

so that instead of having soberness and joy in his knowing, one 
might rather curse his knowing which makes him unhappy, just 
as one may become unhappy by owning up to something in a state 
of intoxication which he never would have acknowledged in a 
sober state/ This is quite true when it is understood in a con- 
trary sense: the sensible man, sure enough, is so sober that he will 
not acknowledge that he is drunk, although he is. But then the 
first requisite for being truly sober is to acknowledge that one is 
drunk. 

For entirely sober, according to Christianity's opinion, is only 
he whose knowing is acting. So it ought to be. Thy understand- 
ing must at once become action. At once! Alas, It is not thus 
with us men! When we have understood something, there is a 
long time to wait before an action follows, or before the translation 
of it into action. But in the right relationship the action follows 
at once, and just because of this the translation is so accurate, it is 
thy understanding whole and complete. If the action does not 
follow at once, this translation into action of the thing understood 
becomes distorted. Alas, so it is with our actions! How much 
do they resemble our understanding? Perhaps like the musical 
notes thou dost reproduce with the violin-bow ? Perhaps like the 
faithful reprint of a picture ? No, like blotting-paper compared 
with the script on which it has lain. 

Thus, for example, there is one who has understood what will 
be, as he thinks, of profit to the whole human race, and perhaps 
he is in the right. There is a severity which is needful ; he under- 
stands so clearly that only severity can save, so clearly that he has 
the courage also to be severe against everyone with one excep- 
tion: himself. Is this what it means to be sober? Yes, the merely 
human view is surely of this opinion ; if he succeeds in his under- 
taking and doesn't get himself into trouble by it, people see his 
discretion and sobriety in the fact that he knew how to direct this 
fearful thought in such a way that all were wounded by it ... 
except himself. Christianity, on the contrary, is of the opinion 
that he is drunk, that he would have been sober if at once^ upon 
discovering the saving power of severity, he had at once turned it 
against himself. 

Then there is one who has understood something true, he has 
understood it, oh, it stood out before him so vividly, so convinc- 
ingly, with such power of eloquence, that he thought he must 



136 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

be able to convince the whole world of It and that he essayed 
to do, and he succeeds, he convinces his whole generation of the 
triumphant joy of self-sacrifice. Yet there was one man he did not 
convince: himself. He swung off in a wrong direction from what 
he understood, or away from understanding it aright, not in the 
direction of action, but into poetical and oratorical production. 
At the instant when it stood out so convincingly before him, so 
irresistibly, that self-denial is the triumphant joy, precisely at that 
instant a little self-denial was required of him. If he had acted 
then perhaps the whole masterpiece about the triumphant joy 
of self-denial might never have come into existence . . . but self- 
denial, yes! Now, on the contrary, the masterpiece came into 
existence that surely was not self-denial. Is this what it means 
to be sober? The merely human view is certainly of this opinion; 
*For, J it will be said, 'although a person doesn't himself do it, 
when he can win thousands that surely is the main thing! 7 
Christianity is of the opinion that this alone is the main thing, 
this little act of self-denial which was lacking, that if this had 
come about, and at once, and as a complete rendering of his 
understanding, that would have been to be sober. 

Let me take still another example. There was a time when art 
essayed to present a picture, the Saviour of the world, Jesus 
Christ. This no doubt was misunderstanding, for in this way it 
is not possible to present Him, inasmuch as His glory is the glory 
invisible, the inward glory, and He is *the sign of contradiction* 
(what a contradiction to want to depict this!), hidden under a 
contrary exterior. So art will essay in vain to do this. But what if 
the art of words should essay to do it? Imagine now a man seized 
by this notion, and he will then employ all the potentialities of 
speech to depict the Saviour of the world. But to this end he must 
have repose, says he, an environment favourable to this work; and 
there must be nothing to disturb him, says he 5 and furthermore 
he must be assisted by everything that can serve to keep him in 
the humour. 1 So in a delightful region he chooses the most lovely 
environment, and he beautifies everything with art and good 
taste, and never has there been such allurement for any poet as 

1 Here we can perceive that this 'example* is not imagined; it is S. K. himself, the 
poet, in whom the aesthetical, as he said, was not abolished by the religious and not 
at -once dethroned. The Journals show that not long before this time he still talked 

like the 'example* *I am a poet, I must have repose 1 , said he. 



BECOMING SOBER 137 

for him but we must remember also that this Is indeed the most 
Important task. From the outset he is already famous, people 
look up to him with admiration, they look forward with admira- 
tion to the production of his masterpiece, and the newspapers 
have already announced It, giving him part-payment in advance of 
the praise he is to receive but we must remember also that this is 
the most serious subject. Is this what it means to be sober? The 
merely human view is surely of this opinion, thou canst hear It 
Indeed from the newspapers, thou canst see it in everybody's 
sympathy for this undertaking, which presumably will completely 
compensate us for not being contemporary with Christ which 
on other grounds is no little advantage to us, however much the 
parsons may protest that (inexplicable !) their most fervent longing 
Is to have been contemporary with Him. But Christianity is of 
the opinion that this is drunkenness, that in comparison with this 
even the slightest self-denial is sobriety. For Christianity Is of 
the opinion that being sober means that thy understanding is thy 
action, that as the Temple-tribute was paid In its own proper 
coinage, so is thy understanding constantly to be expressed as 
action, warm, full, and whole, Issuing Instantly the instant thou 
hast understood something. 

*But to become sober in this way Is frightful, there is nothing 
indeed in this to arouse enthusiasm!' 'What!' Christianity will 
reply, 'were then the Apostles not enthusiastic? were not the 
martyrs ? old men who then for the first time felt enthusiastic 
and became like youths again, young maidens who precisely then 
learned enthusiasm!* However, every man to his taste. For the 
man who is accustomed to get enthusiasm from wine there seems 
to be little enthusiasm in water-drinking but what if after all 
there might be enthusiasm in water-drinking ! For the man who 
finds enthusiasm in sensual enjoyment there seems to be nothing 
to prompt enthusiasm in the notion that self-denial is to be the 
occasion of enthusiasm but In case after all there is enthusiasm 
in self-denial! For the man to whom, according to his opinion, 
the relationship to God ought to signify that he is to get every- 
thing from God, there Is no enthusiasm In the thought that the 
relationship to God means to renounce everything and yet what 
is the most blessed thing (and so also the most apt to prompt 
enthusiasm): to be able with God's aid to get everything; or to 
be obliged, but also with God's aid, to do without everything? 



138 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

What truly arouses enthusiasm is not the gifts but God; but in 
the first case thou canst readily look mistakenly at what thou 
gettest (and that is indeed the lesser motive to enthusiasm); in 
the second case thou art compelled to look upon God alone 

and that is the greatest motive to enthusiasm. 

My hearer. To become sober was the task proposed; and 
'seriousness' is this: what does reality look like? where are we? 

Where are we? What is the situation in Christendom ? To say 
what it is is not difficult; it is more difficult to alter it. 

We have so mixed up together the finite and the infinite, the 
eternal and the temporal, the highest and the lowest, that they 
all coalesce and it is impossible to tell which is which, in other 
words, the situation is one of impenetrable ambiguity it is not so 
difficult to cut a view through the thickest growth of a primeval 
forest as it is to get the ideals to throw light into this ambiguity, 
where everything is murky, where we live well secured against the 
ideals, more especially because a sensible point of view has shoved 
itself between us and them, so that we are in understanding with 
one another about every striving after something higher . . . when 
it is advantageous, but would find that a really higher striving 
which waives all claim to advantages is of all ludicrous things the 
most ludicrous 'exaggeration*. 

In newspapers, in books, from pulpits, from university chairs, 
in conventions, there is a tone of solemnity, of importance, of 
such grave importance, as though everything turned upon spirit, 
upon truth, upon thoughts. And perhaps too it does . . . perhaps. 
And yet perhaps it all turns upon livings, upon careers . . . 
perhaps. Is it the living, the career, which arouses the enthusiasm 
of the candidate in theology, or is it Christianity ? One does not 
know. He takes the living, h& protests that it is Christianity. Is it 
the living, the career, which arouses the enthusiasm of the candi- 
date, or is it learning ? One does not know. He takes the living, 
becomes professor, ho, protests that it is learning. Is it the number 
of subscribers which arouses the enthusiasm of the newspaper 
writer, or is it the cause ? One does not know. He gloats over the 
subscribers, he protests that it is the cause. 1 Is it love for the 
many which moves a man to put himself at the head of the crowd ? 

1 Here S. K. has in mind especially Goldschmiclt and the Corsair the experience 
which first revealed to him the baseness of the press. 



BECOMING SOBER 139 

One does not know. He takes advantage of standing at the head 
of this mighty power, that one can plainly see; he protests that it 
is out of love. 

And with all this it is maintained with might and main that 
Christianity exists, even that we are all Christians, so that Chris- 
tianity surely never has flourished so luxuriantly. By what then 
does one prove that Christianity exists ? Maybe by the fact that 
there are i ,000 parsons ? Capital ! so thus it is proved also that 
'the Idle Hustler' 1 is not ridiculous, as has hitherto been supposed; 
no, he is in the right when he proves that he has a great deal of 
business, proves it by the fact that he employs four clerks ! And 
yet the situation here is a different one. For at least the four clerks 
are not in any way a refutation of his claim that he has a great deal 
of business; but the existence of the 1,000 parsons is rather a 
refutation of the existence of Christianity than a proof of it. For 
what does it prove ? It proves that there are 1,000 livings, neither 
more nor less. Is this Christianity ? Or will this help Christianity 
to make its way in the world? Or will it not rather have the 
contrary effect ? For the congregation is shrewd, too. The parson 
may declaim, weep, pound the pulpit, 'protest* all right, if it 
can be supposed that by this the congregation will get the im- 
pression of Christianity. No, the congregation says dryly, without 
tears, *It is his living.* One single act performed with true self- 
denial, in renunciation of the world, is infinitely more of a revival 
and more of Christianity than i ,000 or 1 0,000 or 1 00,000 or a 
million parsons, so long as they keep it ambiguous which is 
which, whether it is the living, the career, the advantages, which 
arouse their enthusiasm, or Christianity; so long as they keep it 
ambiguous, for in case they say outright that it is the former, they 
do no harm. 

*But is it thy notion then that a man can live on air, or is Chris- 
tianity perhaps of the opinion that it is inadmissible to work for 
one's livelihood?* Not by any means, not in the remotest way. 
On the other hand, it is Christianity's opinion that a man can and 
must keep these things separate from one another, make it clearly 
evident where it is he labours for his own advantage, and where 
for a cause, for ideas, for the spirit, for the higher interest, and 
that he should not be tempted at any price to let this coalesce 
with the other, this which is the most diverse, the infinitely diverse, 
1 A character In Holberg's comedy of this name. 



140 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

the heaven-wide diverse. Christianity's opinion is that to seek at 
the same time one's own advantage ... in the service of truth, to 
seek at the same time one's own advantage ... in labouring for 
ideas that this is bosh and the way to hypocrisy, since the latter 
is infinitely higher than the former, and since it is neither the 
truth nor the idea which is served by my getting a living and 
making a career, but it is I alone. Christianity's opinion is that 
'protests' are the meanest invention of the father of lies, that in 
relation to striving for the higher aim, there is only one sort of 
protest, the fact that my life expresses it and then I have no 
need to protest; and that in the opposite case my protests are 
bosh and the way to hypocrisy. 

*But in speaking thus thou art forgetful of reverence for the 
parson/ His Reverence! Most certainly I shall not treat in- 
solently his Very or his Right Reverend Reverence, I wish that 
what reverence is fairly and honestly due to him may be meted 
out to him, but not a bit more. But here again we encounter that 
ambiguity. There are two sorts of worth, which are to be regarded 
with different sorts of reverence. When a person lives blamelessly 
among us he is entitled to be treated with respect. Perhaps at 
the same time he is especially talented and employs this talent of 
his with diligence and efficiency, thereby earning his livelihood, 
so that he tan be said to be especially worthy. 1 So, for example, 
an actor. On the other hand, there is an entirely different concept 
of worthiness and reverence which may properly be said to have 
come in with Christianity. That was upon a time when Chris- 
tianity was preached by Apostles. However, that we will leave 
out of account. But there was a time when Christianity was 
preached by witnesses for the truth there were no livings in 
those days, inasmuch as Christianity (incredible as it is!) had 
come in without any help from livings. Such a teacher of Chris- 
tianity had claim to a special sort of reverence, it was his life 
which justified it. But, lo, it is this concept of reverence the 
parsons are still squinting at, although their lives have become 
precisely the opposite to the lives of these glorious ones, and the 
preaching of Christianity, being entirely secularized, has become 
just like every other business. And this concept of reverence is 

1 The translation of this paragraph cannot but be awkward for the reason that the 
Danish honorific address to the clergy is, like the sermon, not 'reverend' but 'worthy* 



BECOMING SOBER 141 

not due to them. A parson in our days cannot lay claim to any other 
reverence than that which pertains to every man in his own profes- 
sion, in proportion to his efficiency. If he is a distinguished 
preacher very well then, there is due to him the same reverence 
as to a distinguished physician, for example, or artist, or actor, 
&c.; the mediocre men rank with the mediocre; ordination cannot 
decide anything personally, for when the ordained man's life is 
completely secularized he cannot personally plead that he is or- 
dained, rather might the actor, the artist, the physician, &c., 
demand that they also be ordained. Such is the situation in the 
midst of Christendom, where people still sometimes doubt 
whether an actor may be buried in consecrated ground, whereas 
no doubt whatever is entertained as to how far the parsons have 
a right to be buried in consecrated ground. 

*But this then will bring everything to confusion/ Not at all, 
the matter seems quite simple to me. My notion is this. Humble 
before God, and for the rest childishly joyful and delighted, I am 
fully convinced that it is the most honourable thing in the world 
for a man to work for his livelihood. So I will do that. I will, 
frank-heartedly before God and with a good conscience, earn my 
bread, for Example, by preaching Christianity. But, but, but my 
congregation shall not have occasion to let me understand slyly 
that this is my livelihood, for I intend to say to them myself 
directly, with such cheerfulness and confidence that it will be a 
delight: *It is my livelihood; it is not for Christianity's sake I have 
got a living, it is for my own sake/ Truly it is not at all dangerous 
for the congregation to get to know, what it does know anyhow, 
that I also am a man, requiring something to live on. Neither is it 
dangerous for the congregation to get to know, what is the truth, 
that I am not so strong in faith, so alive in spirit, that I could bear 
(as Christianity undeniably would prefer) to preach Christianity 
in poverty. It is not at all dangerous for the congregation to get 
to know which is which. No, no, not only is it not dangerous, it 
is the only way to truth and salvation and Christianity. The 
dangerous thing is if I were to pooh-pooh the living while hid- 
denly I look sharply after it; for if I am so superior, so strong, I 
ought to express this by doing without it. The dangerous thing 
is that I assume a dress of solemnity and reverend dignity, pre- 
tending that it is for Christianity's sake as if it were that which 
stood in need of my getting a living and making a career, as 



14* JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

though it were not I rather that stand in need of Christianity's 
Indulgence for thus making my preaching a means of livelihood ; 
the dangerous thing is that I assume this dress of solemnity and 
reverend dignity while the congregation laughs at me in its sleeve 
and understands the situation very well, or it understands which is 
which. The long and short of it is, if the fact is that this is my liveli- 
hood, if this, Christianity, signifies that I am a beggarly wretch 
(which, however, is a monstrous falsehood) well then, dangerous 
it never can be that the congregation gets to know that I am a 
beggarly wretch. If I were a beggarly wretch, the dangerous thing 
is that the congregation did not get to know it officially and 
directly. And however one may turn and twist the thing, never 
was he a beggarly wretch who had the courage and intrepidity to 
acknowledge, *I am that/ No, the man one might quite properly 
call a beggarly wretch, him thou wilt in all probability find hidden 
under the rags of solemnity and reverend dignity. 

O ye revered figures whom Christianity so touched and moved 
that it and ye conquered your hearts, and ye resolved, and kept the 
resolve, to preach Christianity in poverty and lowliness, the 

fenuine preaching I do not press insolently into your ranks; no, 
stand afar off, bowing humbly, but for the rest, childishly joyful 
and delighted, frank-hearted, with a good conscience. But one 
thing I shall never do (I would make myself a good conscience 
thus, and if I were to do it, I should also be making myself a 
conscience, a bad conscience to have to bear), I shall never 
defraud you of what is justly your due, I shall rather by God's help 
succeed in illuminating your glory, ye revered figures, in illuminat- 
ing it ... at my expense! I shall never let everything coalesce 
into one, as people do nowadays, and say: 'The doctrine, the 
objective teaching, is the main thing, it makes no difference if it is 
my livelihood, rny career, whether one does it gratis, another for 
money and station, one in voluntary poverty, another in the way 
of a flourishing business, one for the sake of the sacrifice and its 
perquisites, the other as himself sacrificed, all this is neither here 
nor there, the doctrine, in fact, is and remains the same/ What 
an abomination! What a lie! An abomination! They have dis- 
tracted men's attention precisely from that which is really the 
decisive thing. Or is there anyone who does not know in his heart, 
know for himself and know along with all the others, that this, 
precisely this, endlessly differentiates a man, namely, the question 



BECOMING SOBER 143 

whether he is to obtain advantage from his striving, or exactly the 
opposite ? A lie ! For it is not true that it is and remains the same 
doctrine, since in the one case the act of preaching is the doctrine, 
which is truth and remains truth in the preaching; in the other 
case the preaching makes the same doctrine falsehood so the 
doctrine does not really remain the same, 

But to return again to the beginning of this last exposition: 
the situation of our age is determined precisely by the fact that 
we have got the infinite and the finite, the highest and the lowest, 
so confounded that the situation is an impenetrable ambiguity. So 
it surely is necessary to become sober in order to get out of this 
condition of drunkenness. 

My intention here is remote from the profane proposal when 
they talk about the congregation desiring perhaps to save some- 
thing on the parsons, scrape something off their salaries oh, 
wretched meanness ! If I were in control, the result would be that 
people would make it a point of honour to reward them more 
liberally. On the other hand, this requirement of 'Christian 
reverence' must go, if there is to be any truth in the situation. 
Either one thing or the other: either a life of strenuous exertion, 
exertion in self-denial and renunciation, exertion in witnessing for 
the truth and against lies in 'reality', not in declamations de- 
livered during 'quiet hours* under the sway of seventeen illusions 
and then the requirement of Christian reverence; or else the 
milder forms, where the parson's life is not more severely taxed 
than all other people's and then abandonment of the claim to 
Christian reverence. To combine both of them is falsehood. 
So this will be the conclusion of the matter. Every one of the 
more capable parsons will also surely be able to see this for him- 
self, every one of the younger men will surely find it reasonable 
and be willing to accede to it. If there should be one or another 
who has got only too much accustomed to this false reverence and 
solemnity, so that he cannot readily resolve to make admissions, 
but would rather hold on to a thing which, in a moment so 
critical for Christianity as this, might have the most dangerous 
consequences that is his own affair. 

But this will be the conclusion of the matter, that we sober men 
must come to the point of admitting where we are, and where 
Christianity is. People say that Christianity is a 'doctrine', and 
they go on to recount that 'this doctrine has transformed the face 



H4- JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

of the earth*. Oh, what fools we are ... or how cunning! No, 
never has any doctrine (served by what weighs it down and drags 
it into finiteness, by men of titular rank, namely, who are salaried 
officials of the government) transformed the face of the world, 
that is just as impossible as to make a kite rise by means of that 
which pulls it down, the weight attached to it; never has any 
doctrine, thus served, ever been able to stir up a little persecution, 
which surely is absolutely necessary if there is to be any question 
of transforming the world. But that is a thing the person con- 
cerned takes good care to avoid. No, but Christianity was served 
by witnesses for the truth who, instead of having profit from the 
doctrine, and every sort of profit (and here is the decisive point 
which made this doctrine something else than a doctrine), made 
sacrifices for the doctrine and sacrificed everything : it was served 
by witnesses for the truth, who did not live on the doctrine, 
along with a family, but lived and died for the doctrine. Thereby 
Christianity became a power, the power which mastered and 
transformed the world. Thus it was served for wellnigh three 
hundred years; thereby Christianity became c the power' in the 
world. There was now, if I may say so, an immense capital in- 
vestment accumulated; the only question was how it should be 
employed. Alas, by this time there had already begun the retro- 
gression, the illusion: instead of transforming the world, they 
began to transform Christianity, Worldly shrewdness hit upon 
the idea of turning the life of these witnesses, their sufferings, 
their bipod, of turning it into money, or into honour and prestige; 
people shrewdly spared themselves suffering, but the fact that the 
'departed* had suffered, the preachers turned to their own ad- 
vantage. And in this they succeeded only too well; many cen- 
turies passed, and the good-natured, simple-hearted people did 
not notice what had occurred, that those whom one honoured and 
glorified and rewarded in every way were not the 'departed* who 
had made the sacrifice and got no thanks for it, but a cunning 
tribe who took the thanks. And so it went on. And shrewdness 
became more and more cunning in finding out new and newer, 
cleverer and cleverer forms of the deceit, which spares me suffer- 
ing and permits me to acquire dexterously pecuniary advantages, 
besides honour and prestige . . . from the fact that others have 
been scourged, crucified, burnt, &c. The deceits became shrewder 
and shrewder. But unfortunately the shrewdness in seeing 



BECOMING SOBER 145 

through the deceits also became greater by which, however, it Is 
not affirmed that the shrewdness in seeing through the deceits 
is any better than the deceits. 

No, but shrewdness in deceiving has encountered an equally 
great shrewdness in seeing through it. Period. This is a stand- 
still. The capital investment acquired in these three hundred years 
has been consumed, ladies and gentlemen; it is impossible by new 
deceit to squeeze more out of It, for shrewdness in seeing through 
the deceits has become precisely as great. The capital investment 
has been consumed, this is status; the standstill is &faa y this is 
the situation; Christianity has reached the point where it has 
to be said : "Now then I have to begin all over again/ Is there no 
one I can move to prevail over his heart and be willing to under- 
stand what Christianity is, and that to preach Christianity means 
to make sacrifices, to be ready to suffer ? If such a man is to be 
found, if there are to be found several of them, then Christianity 
begins again to be a power, as for many ages 'this doctrine' has not 
been, and as it could not become so long as merely being a 
Christian (not to say parson or professor) was a livelihood, a career. 

It is a standstill. And that this may become a standstill of 
soberness and truth, pains should be taken to make clear that it is 
a standstill, lest it become something else, something external, a 
worldly revolution. Hence (since this is a matter which verily 
interests Christianity only in the slightest degree, and only in 
the slightest degree would serve its cause) the parson should not 
be deprived of any least part of his lawful revenues, not fourpence 
even, nor of his titles and dignities. Not this by any means. No, 
but one thing should be made evident and notorious : that it Is not 
for Christianity's sake he has secured this, but for his own sake; 
and that he has not obtained it by means of Christianity, inasmuch 
as it would be Christianity to relinquish It, and there is need of an 
Indulgence from the part of Christianity for striving after it and 
possessing it. But above all there Is need of watchful care lest 
there might come about the most frightful of all confusions, that 
one might hit upon the notion of wanting to be a reformer In 
such a way, be it observed, that the reforming becomes pleasure, 
profit, See., whereas Instead the will to reform Implies sacrifices, 
suffering. 

People have wanted to perform the astonishing trick of saying; 
'Christianity is an objective doctrine, it makes no difference how It 



146 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

is served, the "doctrine" is the whole thing.' This is what has 
abolished Christianity. It is easy to understand. There is an 
existential determinant of Christianity which is the unconditional 
condition, without which Christianity cannot be applied. This is 
what it is: to die unto the world (afdse). Try it out now. There 
comes one who preaches Christianity and whose livelihood and 
career it is to do this he says to a man, 'Thou shalt die unto the 
world the price is ten dollars.* 'How is that? Ten dollars? 
Paid to whom?' 'To me, for it is my livelihood, my career, to 
preach that one must die unto the world.' 1 Between God (who 
requires, 4 Thou shalt die unto the world') and me, the single 
individual, the poor man who is to take a bite of the sour apple 
and die unto the world, there is introduced as the intermediate 
term (in the way of preaching) a living, a fat and good living for a 
man with a family, and a rank equivalent to that of councillor, and 
the prospect of advancement this is an impossibility, the 
preaching contradicts itself. And even if the whole human race 
were to put up with this, it's no use, it's an impossibility, it can't 
be done; one, two, three! It is impossible, so let the hammer fall, 
let it for ever be determined that it is impossible. And since, as is 
well known and readily understood, what a man's life proclaims is 
a hundred thousand times more effective than what his mouth 
proclaims, so is that sort of preaching as remote as possible from 
being able to bring Christianity in effectually, or to bring anybody 
to die unto the world, inasmuch as the hundred thousand times 
greater effectiveness of that preaching is substantially expressed 
thus: 'No, so far remote is it from inducing anyone to die from the 
world that even the preaching that one should die unto the world 
has become one among the many and various roads leading to 
a rule of life "Enjoy life's warmth ere comes the winter's snow; 
and cull the flowers ere the roses go." * That simply doesn't go. 

This they noticed themselves. So Christianity became mild 
or rather, they whose career it was to preach Christianity found it 
necessary (opt of love for men not to say self-love) to make 
Christianity a saleable article. So it became merely 'consolation'. 
A family is living in the enjoyment of all possible pleasures, then 
a man announces himself as a preacher of Christianity and says, 
'Have you no use for the gentle consolation of eternity, which, 

1 Substantially the same story was more tellingly told in the Journal. I have 
translated it in my Kierkegaard* p. 533. 



BECOMING SOBER 147 

without praising my own wares too highly, I venture to call 
one of life's greatest comforts and pleasures, which serves to 
mitigate sorrows and to give joys their proper zest? It costs 50 
dollars/ 'Why, that's a fair price.* 

But to sell Christianity thus 3 without laying any obligations 
upon life, is peddling indulgences, it is trafficking with Chris- 
tianity. 

'And yet,' says the preacher, 'we preach also that one must live 
accordingly.' *O dear, Sir, what of it that thy mouth preaches 
thus, when thy life preaches that this is thy livelihood, a path to 
a plentiful competence for thee and thy family, a path to worldly 
honours and prestige, so that really it is humbug your wanting 
to put others under the obligation of "dying from the world" 
for the obligation to die from the world cannot be preached 
with emphasis by one whose livelihood, whose career it is to do 
this.' 

And here again we are at a standstill. Dying from the world is 
the first and the last word of Christianity strictly understood. 
This was expressed also by those who in the first age of Christianity 
preached Christianity: they were departed souls. Now the 
turning-point has been reached: the preaching of Christianity, 
or the preaching that Christianity requires thee to die from the 
world, is exactly the opposite of dying from the world. This 
simply doesn't go. 

To make it go (if one will agree with me that to make something 
go there must be, either in one way or in another, some sense in it) 
to make it go there must first be an admission that this preach- 
ing of Christianity which in a worldly way (with worldly arrange- 
ments, worldly norms, worldly securities) is the preacher'^ 
livelihood and career, the admission that this is not really Chris- 
tianity, however truly one may preach the doctrine, 'the sound 
doctrine'. And the trouble is, in my judgement ('in my judgement* 
because I am only an unauthoritative poet, who at the most 
contends for the admission of our weakness; the authoritative 
teacher might pass a much more decisive judgement upon us), 
the trouble is that no one for a long while past has made the 
admission that this whole thing of the i>ooo parsons is not really 
Christianity, but a softened form, made a whole quality softer as 
compared with genuine Christianity. It is far from my meaning 
to say that for this cause such preaching is entirely without profit; 



148 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

but it is quite another thing to say that Christianity, in order to 
maintain its majesty and be able to assume command, must 
require the admission that this is not properly Christianity. 

There have been times when this preaching of Christianity, 
though it was not, as it never Is, deserving of unstinted praise, was 
less offensive in times, that is to say, when the congregation was 
less knowing, could not so clearly discern between a striving after 
the infinite and a striving after the finite, or discern what the 
protestations really mean. As the situation now is, the preachers 
of Christianity cannot attain frank-heartedness and a good 
conscience in the face of an all-too-knowing congregation without 
having publicly attested which is which, whether it is the finite 
they want, or the infinite. This *also* to want also the infinite, 
or to want also the finite to want to have one's mouth full of 
flour and also to want to blow, is not merely 'also', but purely 
and simply, or solely and only, bosh. The protestation that it is 
the infinite one desires, while one takes the finite, doesn't do any 
good, it does not conceal the fact that there is a knowingness in the 
preacher and in the congregation, and if it is there, it is indecent 
not to attest it publicly by an essential change : either by letting 
go of the finite and finite advantages; or by making the admission 
that this preaching is after all not really Christianity. It is like 
bashfulness. In the case of a very small child bashfulness is one 
thing; as soon as it is assumed that the child is old enough to be 
knowing, bashfulness is another thing. After a knowledge has 
come about, and so after it can be assumed that there is knowledge 
in both parties, and a mutual knowledgerthat there is this know- 
ledge after this has come to pass, to wish to conserve the 
first bashfulness would not only not be bashfulness but an ex- 
tremely depraved and depraving immorality. The preaching 
of Christianity, or its preachers.* have long enough both pecuni- 
arily and with respect to honours, titles, and dignities lived off 
of the fact . . . that there ha^e been those who sacrificed everything 
for Christianity. This is no longer convincing to a knowing 
congregation. Speaking frankly, one cannot blame them for it. 
How could a contradiction be capable of convincing? the 
contradiction of hearing a man prove the truth of Christianity by 
the fact that there have been those who sacrificed everything for 
Christianity and of seeing that the preacher lives off of this, by 
the aid of it is in possession of earthly goods of various sorts. 



BECOMING SOBER 149 

which in fact is a contradiction of the proof. The dangerous 
situation is when there is knowledge in the preacher, and know- 
ledge in the congregation, and mutual knowledge of this know- 
ledge then not to be wilting to come out with it in speech, to 
wish to preserve a loftier, a more solemn tone, the iintruthfulness 
of which one is secretly conscious of; this is the dangerous, the 
demoralizing thing. The congregation has need of getting a 
sight of that true proof not the consideration that I am living 
off of the fact that there have been people who sacrificed every- 
thing in any case (for I, an unauthorltative poet, must stick to 
the easier thing, only too much entangled with this life, and there- 
fore a coward, as poets commonly are, yet with the courage to 
acknowledge it, which poets do not always have), the congregation 
has need (of that which both I and everyone else must be capable 
of furnishing) of the truth, the admission, instead of being fed 
with protestations, which signify nothing to shrewd and knowing 
men. And surely the preacher also has need of getting the truth 
clearly uttered, if only for the sake of doing people a little good. 
And verily, according to my notion, he can do them much good, 
if he is true in this fashion, admitting that this really is not 
Christianity if the preaching is to provide everything earthly for 
himself and family, and that rather abundantly, if preaching is to 
be his worldly career. So it is one of two: either there is real 
renunciation of the earthly, in order with sacrifice and suffering 
to preach Christianity; or one assures himself of the earthly, the 
temporal, but makes then the admission that this preaching is not 
properly Christianity. The first form one man has no right to 
require of another, he has a right to require it of himself. The 
other form we men have a right to require of one another; for, 
after all, there must be truthfulness in the situation, and an end 
must be put to this game of duplicity played by protestations 
between knowing parties, which are therefore protestations made 
by one who knows only too well how little protestations mean, 
and made to those who know only too well how little protesta- 
tions mean, and made with a suppression of the true state of 
affairs. 

Oh, these 'protestations' ! From generation to generation the 
thing has gone on, while people continued in tranquil acquisition 
and possession of the earthly and kept on with the protestation ; 
*In case it were required of me, I should be willing to leave all, 



1 5 o JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

sacrifice everything, for the sake of Christianity.' 1 And the 
Individual, continuing in the tranquil acquisition and possession 
of the earthly, kept up, twenty, thirty, forty years in short, a 
whole lifetime this protestation : 'In case it were required of me, 
I should be willing to leave all, to sacrifice everything, for the sake 
of Christianity.' "in the meanwhile the world has beheld an 
almost complete moral dissolution but none of the protesters 
discovered that this was required of him, he merely continued to 
protest that, *In case , . .' So he continued to acquire, to strive 
after, to possess the earthly; but at the same time he was a hero; 
it was no fault of his that this was not made evident: in case it 
should be required, he was willing enough he protested that 4 in 
case . . .* In my youth there was a young man who never sue- 




by his proper name but by 
with the protestations, but they succeed in keeping it up longer 
than that young man, who after only a few years was found out. 

However, now the time for protestations is past ! Three hun- 
dred years of immortal achievement 2 what wonder that they saved 
up, if I may say so, an immense reserve, upon which (though it is 
always a confusion and absurdity to suppose that one man draws 
upon another's deeds of heroism) one might draw by means of 
protestations, might keep on drawing for a long time before it 
became clear how confused a thing this is. But the reserve for 
protestations, the specie which a bank in order to be a bank always 
must possess, and which in this case Christianity's bank did 
possess, it has been consumed, ladies and gentlemen ! Instead 
of being able to draw on the bank, a new bank must first be 
founded, by means of what in this case is the specie, namely, 
actions, actions in the role of a Christian. 

If I cannot do this well then, one thing I can do, one thing 
I must do, and that one thing I will do, I will at least refrain from 
mendaciously ascribing something to myself by means of protesta- 
tions, or from defrauding you, ye glorious ones, of your rightful 
due, the reward of admiration and gratitude for your life, your 
deed, which ye bequeathed to the race, not that some shrewd 

1 S. K. heard Bishop Mynster utter these words in a sermon, and he religiously 
noted them in Ms Journal. 

2 A pky on words, for Eedrifur means also business ventures. 



BECOMING SOBER 151 

people might turn it into money and suck-like, but that it might 
prompt us men of a later time to imitation. I shall not *protest*. 
If I am not capable of being a hero (which in every sense of the 
word I doubtless am not) well then, at all events I shall not 
protest that *in case . . .*; in other words, I shall not pretend that 
it is the fault of circumstances (because they didn't require it of 
me) that I do not show what a hero I am, I shall not pretend that 
at bottom I am a hero, waiting merely for the occasion, while my 
life expresses the fact that I am (as I only too readily find occasion 
to be) just as greedy of money and just as greedy of honours as 
every other man. No, if (as has been said) I am not capable of 
being a hero, then it shall be made evident that I am not capable, 
and that there is a lot of fudge in this */ case it is required*, 
especially when the condition of the world is a moral dissolution 
such as not even ancient times have seen, such as did not exist 
even when Christianity came into the world, so that if no other 
man will, I will vow, in the name of Christianity and of God, 
to say to everyone who protests that *in case . . .', to say to him, 
'If there be nothing else to prevent thee from stepping forth in 
the role of the hero which thou art, except the notion that it is not 
required of thee oh, my dear, my honoured friend, it is not only 
required, it is the last moment, if it is not too late; therefore haste, 
haste!' 

So then, the time is past for protestations protestations, the 
most dangerous of all hypocritical inventions, more dangerous 
than the Pharisees' righteousness of works, for after all to live so 
strictly is a real something, but the protestations are nothing, 
and yet mendaciously assert the highest claim. And if their time 
is past, then let there be no more twaddling, no vacillation, where- 
by a man is entangled with them again, let there be resolute 
decision: away with them, away with protestations, the most 
dangerous of all drunkenness! Let us be sober! If my life 
constantly expresses, year after year, that I am just like the 
common run of men, at least I shall hold my tongue from protesta- 
tions that 'in case . . / 

Yet perhaps the learners, the audience, the congregation, or, 
more accurately, the Christian public, will have divers objections 
to make if the protestations are abolished, perhaps they would 
even make a little effort to recall the 'protestations'. For though 
it is the preachers who employ protestations, it is perhaps the 



1 5 2 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

hearers, the world, that get the most use out of forcing the 
preachers to resort to this falsehood so that Christianity may not 
become too serious. 

In earlier times (when people really related themselves to the 
patterns In such a way that they either, as in the truest examples, 
understood that they' must imitate them; or, although careful to 
spare themselves suffering, nevertheless held the patterns in high 
honour, almost too high, inasmuch as they were not far from 
worshipping them, which was a rather sly device for exempting 
themselves from imitation), in earlier times they required that the 
preacher's life should express the doctrine: this was, as we now 
say, the 'security' which the preacher had to put up.^ In our times 
(when a completely worldly sapience has inserted itself between 
us and the patterns, has got rid of them, that is to say, or put them 
at an almost ludicrous distance from us, so that if we were con- 
temporary with such a life, with such a striving, we should find 
it of all ludricrous things the most ludicrous), in our times the 
preaching of Christianity in that way might readily become too 
serious a thing for the Christian public. The requirement now is 
therefore a different one. If thou wouldst have success in the 
world with thy Christian preaching, it is now required of thee 
that thy life express pretty much the opposite of what is preached, 
or it is required that thy life, by expressing pretty much the 
opposite of what is preached, shall provide 'security* that the 
preaching is an artistic entertainment, a dramatic presentation, 
with tears, movements of the arms, and such-like. 

Take a few examples. Is it this thou wouldst preach, this Chris- 
tian thought, that the Christians despise the world's honours and 
distinctions, rank and titles, stars and ribbons and thou thyself 
art literally nobody, and in addition to this it is notorious that 
thou wast not willing to attain such honours, although it was in 
thy power: my dear fellow, this is not a subject for thee to talk 
about; it might seem indeed like seriousness; and the Christian 
public would become furious, as if Christianity were something 
which had a right to put one's life under obligation, instead of 
being as it is a consolation, a consolation, for example, for those 
especially who have not been fortunate enough to attain rank 
and title, Sec., in spite of their zealous effort to get it. As I have 
said, this is not a subject for thee to talk about. No, try first to get 
a high rank, procure then a few (or rather^ not a few, the more the 



BECOMING SOBER 153 

better) of the stars and ribbons and then preach mightily about 
the Christians despising rank and titles, stars and ribbons : thou 
hast the applause of the Christian public, both before and behind, 
both before and after, thou hast it expressed. If thou wilt, in tears, 
for thy life furnishes security that thy preaching is an artistic 
production, and surely in the theatre more tears are shed than in 
church. Is it this thought thou wouldst present, that after all 
Christianity has a predilection for the unmarried state and thou 
thyself art unmarried ? ah, my dear fellow, this is not a subject 
for thee to talk about; the Christian public would be ready to 
believe that this might be seriousness and then God have mercy 
upon thee. No, take time, look out first to procure a wife and 
then preachify 'about Christianity having a predilection for the 
unmarried state, and weep a little at the same time; the Christian 
public will be moved to weep with thee in the quiet hours; for thy 
life furnishes the security that the preaching is an artistic pro- 
duction. Is it this thought thou wouldst present, that in the 
matter of marriage Christianity is of the opinion that a person 
ought to marry only once and thou thyself art married for the 
first time? ah, my dear fellow, this again is not a subject for thee 
to talk about, perhaps there is a long look ahead before thou 
canst preach about such a thing, perhaps thou wilt never be in a 
position to do it; in any case, wait; if it be that thy first wife dies 
and thou art married a second time then the moment has come, 
now preachify about Christianity's opinion that a person should 
marry only once ! Thou hast the applause of the Christian public ; 
for thy life furnishes security that thy preaching is objective. 

Yes indeed one is so ready (and this doubtless is the way to 
become the darling of the Christian public), so ready to lay the 
blame on the preachers of Christianity, to seek the defect in them ; 
and yet perhaps it is rather the Christian public which would 
compel the preachers by the fear of men (to which certainly the 
preachers dare not yield) to deceive this Christian public. The 
world, which in every field requires * security * 3 has also taken pains 
to secure itself against Christianity becoming through its preach- 
ing a power, a power which has the right to put a man's life under 
obligation; and hence this world requires the reliable security 
that the preacher's life makes preaching a punching of the air. 
For the world wants to be deceived; it not only is deceived (ah, 
then the thing would not be so dangerous), but it wants to be 



154 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

deceived ; vehemently, more vehemently perhaps than any 'witness* 
has struggled for the truth, the world struggles to be deceived, 
and gratefully it rewards, with money, with prestige, everyone who 
wants to do what it wants, wants to deceive it. And never perhaps 
has the world needed so much as in our time ... to become sober. 

For, to say it short and sharp : this is the very definite utterance 
of the New Testament, that Christianity, and the fact that one is 
truly a Christian, must be in the highest degree an 'offence 7 to the 
natural man, that he must regard Christianity as the highest 
treason and the true Christian as the most scurvy traitor against 
humanity, a treason and a traitor which never can be punished 
severely enough, It is also easy to see that Christianity, being the 
thing which defines man as spirit, must so appear to everyone 
who has not by *dying from* been reborn as 'spirit*. 

Now I have never seen a single man about whom it could in the 
remotest way occur to me to think that his life (for the 'protesta- 
tions' must be stricken out) expressed the fact that he was dead 
and had become spirit, just as little as I count myself to be such 
a one. How in the world has it come about that entire states 
and countries are Christian, that we are Christians by the millions, 
that there is a rush and crush to become teachers in Christianity? 

This is only to be explained by the fact that we have transformed 
Christianity into something quite different, which the authorita- 
tive teacher might with right and reason call treason against 
Christianity, 

So soon then as one might try to display Christianity in its 
true form, that same instant. there would be this outcry against 
him: *He is a traitor to us!' Aha! Even so weak, so mild, so 
humble an effort as I have made to display Christianity somewhat 
more truly I am convinced that there are some who secretly 
judge thus about me: *He is a traitor to us, he betrays us.' They 
do not say it aloud ; perhaps they think this would not be shrewd, 
lest attention might be directed to this matter, and perhaps lest 
I, or at least the matter itself, might be brought to a heat by 
further elucidations. Yet if I were to display Christianity more 
strongly yet no, I am not spirit, and therefore cannot do that 
but if I could display Christianity more strongly, and if I did it, 
that same instant the judgement would be loudly expressed: *It is 
treachery against us I' Aha! We have got Christianity turned 
into something quite different from what it truly is, and so the 



BECOMING SOBER 155 

judgement passed upon it has become a different one. So soon as 
Christianity is again presented in its true form, then the true 
judgement will come out (cf. the New Testament prophecy): 
'It is treason against humanity.' Not even the astronomer's 
calculation of the movements of the heavenly bodies is more 
certain. We extol our age for the fact that Christianity is no 
longer persecuted. That I can well believe: Christianity doesn't 
exist. If it existed in its true form, persecution would instantly 
persecute this treason against humanity. 

I understand this capitally just because I am not spirit. I under- 
stand also that for this reason I can tranquilly invite the reader 
to follow me, to confide himself to me; for I shall not cany the 
thing to a greater extreme than a little admission and that 
hardly can be called treachery, except to those who are entirely 
lost in untruth, and presumably stricken also with blindness, so 
that they do not see what otherwise surely would help them, like 
a corporal chastisement, to open their eyes to the fact that if the 
profane world were to raise objections against Christendom as it 
actually is, before it has guarded itself by making admissions, 
the situation would be another and a good deal worse. The 
average men the class to which I belong will have enough 
sense of truth to be disposed to be willing to have it made clear, 
if it can be, that what we call Christianity is not properly Chris- 
tianity, and then also to be willing to be convinced of it, and 
(if nothing more is exacted of them) to admit it. For if what is 
exacted of me and of others was simply that we should really 
become spirit then doubtless we should all of us become in the 
highest degree embittered. 

But I do not carry the thing so far as that. Strange as it may 
seem for one to justify oneself in this way (since in a higher sense 
it is an accusation against myself), I can truly say that I am guilty 
of no treachery against us men, and that I am not spirit. 

Yet if now the situation is thus with a Christian world } Chris- 
tian states, &c., is it not then true that we have the very greatest 
need to become sober? And is it not then the mildest possible 
thing (yet what wonder it is so mild, since it is I that propose it, 
I who am the weak, unauthoritative poet!) is it not the mildest 
possible thing when there is no question of anything but the 
admission of it ? And what will it profit us finally in eternity that 
we have put this off, intoxicated by sheer illusion? In truth I 



156 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

myself fee! only too deeply how wretched and mediocre is the 
thing I seek to attain, but for all that there Is some sense in it. 
In eternity (if in the meantime I have not got farther on than I 
am now) I will say: 'That which we called Christianity was not 
Christianity, it was a very much softened interpretation of Chris- 
tianity, a something remotely related to Christianity; but this I 
have conceded, I have made the admission aloud and very audibly, 
that it is not properly Christianity do with me, O God, as Thou 
wilt, according to Thy grace ! I know well that in every age, and 
so too in this age of mine, there have lived men who required that 
we be Christians in a stricter sense with them I have never been 
able to take part. No, to me this seemed a truer way: to take a 
milder form, an accommodation but then to concede that this 
is not properly Christianity. So I come! Sober no, I feel that 
I am not that, for only "spirit" is sober. But at all events I do not 
come with a head completely muddled, drunk with the illusion 
that this softened form was the true Christianity, nor drunk with 
the self-conceit that, in contrast with this modified Christianity 
in which the majority live under the name of Christians, I am the 
true Christian no, I come with this admission, and indeed it is 
to Thy grace I come, O God ! This is not to be sober (for in that 
case my life must have been far more strict, expressive of "spirit", 
and yet for all this taking refuge unconditionally in grace 
whereas I apply grace also in a second place, 1 that is, to spare 
myself in human sympathy for myself), this is not to be sober, but 
it stands in relation to becoming sober/ 

No honest man (and what advantage is there after all in any 
dishonesty in relation to the pretence of being a Christian ? In 
eternity, where the question first becomes important and decisive, 
dishonesty is impossible) can truthfully say that this is too severe, 
too hard. Oh no ! It is quite another question whether God in 
heaven will not say that it is too mild. But in any case it stands 
in relation to becoming sober. And certainly there is an infinite 
difference between this: to act as if Christianity were in existence, 
and were in existence in all of these millions, and in these thou- 

1 S. K. says 4 also* because he was accustomed to insist especially upon the neces- 
sity of using 'grace in the first instance*, i.e, prevenlent grace, which, saves from 
sinning, since he perceived that people were inclined rather to rely upon 'grace in 
the second instance*, the grace which forgives sin already committed, and were taking 
it in vain as a dispensation to sin. 



BECOMING SOBER 157 

sands of parsons there Is an infinite difference between that and 
this : to admit that this whole thing is not really Christianity but 
a human accommodation which precisely by the help of the 
admission (for without this the accommodation is a breach with 
Christianity) stands in relation to true Christianity) stands in 
relation to becoming sober. 



II 

CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 

OR NO MAN CAN SERVE TWO MASTERS 
Matt. 6: 24 to the end 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 

PRAYER 

o LORD JESUS CHRIST, it was not to plague us men but to save us that Thou didst say, 
*No man can serve two masters* oh, that we might be willing to accept it, by doing 
it, that is, by following Thee ! Help us all and everyone, Thou who an both willing 
and able to help, Thou who art both the Pattern and the Redeemer, and again both 
the Redeemer and the Pattern, so that when the striver sinks under the Pattern, then 
the Redeemer raises him up again, but at the same instant Thou art the Pattern, to 
keep him continually striving. Thou, our Redeemer, by Thy blessed suffering and 
death, hast made satisfaction for all and for everything; no eternal blessedness can be 
or shall be earned by desert it has been deserved. Yet Thou didst leave behind 
Thee the trace of Thy footsteps, Thou the holy pattern of the human race and of 
each individual in it, so that, saved by Thy redemption, they might every instant 
have confidence and boldness to will to strive to follow Thee. 



THE HOLY GOSPEL IS WRITTEN BY THE EVANGELIST MATTHEW 
IN THE SIXTH CHAPTER, BEGINNING AT THE TWENTY-FOURTH 

VERSE 

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate 
the one and love the other; or else he will hold to 
the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve 
God and Mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take 
no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye 
shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. 
Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? 
Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do 
they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father 
feedeth them. Are ye not much more than they ? Which 
of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his 
stature ? And why take ye thought for raiment ? Conside^ 
the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil n' 
neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, That ^vcn 
Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 
Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which 
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not 



x6a JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

much more clothe you, O ye of little faith ? Therefore 
take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What 
shall we drink? or. Wherewithal shall we be clothed? 
(for after all these things do the Gentiles seek): for your 
heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these 
things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his 
righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto 
you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for 
the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. 
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. 

c No man can serve two masters 7 , it is the Gospel's own word. 
So take this word, go out into the world, observe if possible what 
the lives of all these millions of men express ; imagine one who 
has been contemporary with all the generations of the departed 
and has observed what their lives express. What do they express ? 
They express as with one mouth what even the mouth says too; 
'Never has there lived a man who has not, more or less, served 
two masters. And as for the assertion of the Gospel that it is not 
possible to do it ("No man can serve two masters"), there must be 
a misunderstanding, for it is only too possible to do it, as the whole 
experience of the world attests. It would have been more com- 
prehensible if the Gospel had said that no man should serve two 
masters but that no man can do it is -not true ; the thing no man 
can do, on the contrary, is what the Gospel requires. The other 
thing is easy to do ; and if thou wouldst become something in this 
world, thou must be alert to take the line of serving two or more 
masters; for he who would take seriously the notion that he can 
serve only one master had better look out, it is back-breaking 
work/ Yet perhaps the world and the Gospel are talking about 
entirely different things. The world, naturally, talks about this 
world, simply and solely about this world ; it knows nothing and 
wants to know nothing about the existence of another world. 
That indeed would be for *this world 7 a discovery involving deadly 
peril. Another world! The Gospel talks in terms of the eternal, 
and about this other world, about eternity. No man can serve 
two masters no, not in all eternity; and if no one can do it in 
terms of the eternal, then no one can do it; for the fact that it 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 163 

seems as if one could, yes, even if it were so that one could in 
these few seconds of temporal existence, that is neither here nor 
there so far as concerns the truth, whether one can or whether 
one cannot. How a man is to fare in this world is something which 
the Gospel (in contrast with novels, romances, lies, and other 
amusements) does not amuse itself by considering. No, for the 
Gospel these seventy years are like an instant, and its talk hastens 
on to the decision of eternity; nor does it deludtngly hold out 
to men bright prospects for this life and for this world when 
(eternally unchanged) it proclaims the eternal truth, 4 No man can 
serve two masters/ 

*No man can serve two masters', it is the Gospel's own word. 
So take this word, observe the men who are willing at least to 
understand it as it would be understood, who also have tried 
perhaps to comply with it, observe these men, and thou shalt 
behold that their lives, if not their mouths, express unanimously: 
*But this is too high for us men, it is not possible to serve one 
master, nobody can do it' but the Gospel says (eternally un- 
changed), 'No man can serve two masters/ And if thou wilt 
observe these men more closely in the moment of despondency 
even though they put constraint upon their mouth, yet their life 
expresses: 'It is too high for us men, yea, it is a cruelty to require 
of us such a thing, and never with less right has anything called 
itself glad tidings than precisely this Gospel ! So let us rather 
remain under the Law with its inflexible severity, anything rather 
than this smiling cruelty: that the requirement is if possible still 
greater than that of the Law and that this is what is called glad 
tidings!' This is 'the offence* even if the mouth is silent. 
When discouragement weighs heavily upon a man's soul, the 
offence is not far off, and it is such thoughts as these that find 
a dwelling in the offended man. And let us get these thoughts 
into the open, in order if possible to get them out not out into the 
world, but out of the world, or at least out of the heart; for to 
constrain one's mouth to be silent, or even maybe to say the 
opposite, is of scant avail when one cannot constrain one's mind 
to let go of these thoughts. Is then the requirement actually 
so cruel, or is the Gospel really not glad tidings ? For if it is so 
that this is eternal truth (and we have the Gospel's word for it, and 
in any case the honest man would recognize that it is so, whether 
the Gospel said it or not), if it is so that this is eternal truth, that 



1 64. JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

no man can serve two masters, how should the Gospel be able to 
say anything different, and how should the Gospel, the very truth, 
be able to wish to suppress it, or how could it be cruel to tell the 
truth ? Consider well whether it would not be cruelty to conceal 
it from thee! Moreover, dost thou not believe that the Gospel 
knows what it is to be a man, recognizes our weakness, knows how 
far every man is from being able truly to serve one master? 'But*, 
says the Gospel, 4 it is just for this reason I preach a redemption 
is 'not this glad tidings?* 'However,* continues the Gospel, 'if 
my first was not true and did not stand eternally firm, namely, 
that "no man can serve two masters", then there would in a 
deeper sense be no need felt for a redemption, and this glad 
tidings would never be heard. Is not this really glad tidings, this, 
that "no man can serve two masters**? When I, the Gospel, say 
this, by saying that "no man can serve two masters** I condemn 
all, absolutely all; and yet in the same breath I call all, absolutely 
all, unto me, proclaiming that God wills that all should be saved, 
and that this is the Gospel But how could all be saved if all do 
not feel the need of being saved, and how could all feel the need 
of being saved if the requirement were not such that no man can 
perfectly fulfil it?* 

*No man can serve two masters*, it is the Gospel's own word. 
So take this word, observe the lives of those of whom it can be 
said that in striving to fulfil this word they were, humanly 
speaking, very far ahead, so that if they were to compare them- 
selves with us, they readily might be tempted to ignore us and 
to be not far from thinking that they had attained perfection 
observe their lives, and thou shalt see that in times of temptation 
(Anftegtehen)^ even if the mouth is constrained to silence, they 

five expression to this: *The requirement, however, is too high 
>r men ; as it is said of a spendthrift that no amount of money 
suffices him, but that to give him money is like casting it into 
a bottomless pit, so this requirement is not exhausted by any 
striving, not in the remotest degree; before God, at this instant 
when, humanly speaking, I have got farthest along, I have not 
come one inch, not a millionth fraction of an inch, nearer to God 
than the man who never strove, no, nor even than the man who 
strove with might and main for the opposite. Oh, weariness! oh, 
impotence! to have to do with the infinite, the absolute! ^s the 
forces of nature mock human undertakings and transform them 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 165 

into childish foolery, so does the absolute mock absolutely every 
human striving. The absolute is not for man, it is too high for 
him/ But can then that which is expressly designed to humble, 
can that be too high ? Or when a man feels as if it were too high 
for him, is it not because he has put himself in relation to it in- 
correctly, so that by putting himself in the wrong place he gets the 
stress in the wrong place, so that the requirement falls upon him 
crushingly ? Instead of this, the requirement, by humbling a man, 
should exert a stress which results in exaltation, in rejoicing at 
'grace', and in boldriess through grace, O thou who in this way 
art tempted I have need to hear thy speech, thou hast not in 
the same degree a need to hear mine; yet this being granted, 
permit me to speak. I would say : * What then is exaltation ? Is not 
all exaltation proportionate to the stress of humiliation ? But if 
the stress may be too strong in the direction of humiliation 
complaint against it might be interpreted to mean that the exalta- 
tion was too high. It is a fact that In the world of sense one can 
lift by means of a weight in case then one misunderstood and 
supposed that he had to lift the weight instead of being lifted 
by the weight then Indeed he is crushed. But the misunder- 
standing lay not in the weight but in him. So it is with the 
unconditional requirement; if I must lift it, I am crushed. But 
this is not the intention of the Gospel, its intention is that I, 
through humiliation, shall be lifted up in faith and worship and 
then I am as light as a bird. Or what is most exalting: the thought 
of my own good deeds, or the thought of God's grace? And 
again, when does it reach a climax, so that one's head swims in 
ecstasy, is it not then when my best deed is before God transformed 
to vileness and grace becomes all the more great? An admirable 
man has said admirably that a great benefaction is only properly 
rewarded by unthankfulness. Capital! For when the great bene- 
faction is rewarded with thanks, not to say with much thanks, 
maybe with a thankfulness equal to it, the ben exaction is dimin- 
ished. But the great unthankfulness as a reward keeps the 
benefaction unchangeably great. And so there is to be found 
neither in heaven nor upon earth, nor in any relationship between 
man and man, an exaltation like this, when I turn away humbled 
and ashamed from my best deed as from a vileness and find repose 
in *grace'. Let the pagan with his proud neck strike the heavens, 
or try to from this humiliation comes the exaltation which 



166 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

blissfully reaches heaven. Thou canst not worship God by good 
works, still less by crimes, and just as little by sinking into a soft 
slumber and doing nothing. No, in order to worship aright and 
rightly to have joy in worshipping, a man must so comport 
himself: he strives with might and main, spares himself neither 
day nor night, he tries to produce as many as possible of what 
upright men, humanly speaking, might call 'good works*. And 
then when he takes them and, deeply humbled before God, 
beholds them transformed to wretchedness and vileness, that is to 
worship God and that is exaltation. 

*No man can serve two masters', this is the Gospel's own word; 
eternally it is repeated unchanged: 4 No man can serve two 
masters/ 'But if it is true that no man ever has done this is 
it not then a reasonable demand on the part of mankind that the 
requirement be changed, that it be abated? And because less 
enlightened ages have put up with this state of affairs, being 
unable to perceive the absurdity of it, and because the human 
race in its cowed condition did not dare to breathe a murmur, 
being all too strongly stamped with the marks of intimidation 
by the law, does it follow that an enlightened, broad-minded, 
cultured age, or at any rate (since it must be admitted that 
there is still a great mass which is both uncultured and inti- 
midated), does it follow from this that an enlightened, broad- 
minded public is bound to put up with the same thing? To 
require men to perform the absolute is at bottom sheer madness, 
a ludicrous exaggeration, which (as any sensible man can readily 
see) revenges itself, like all exaggeration, by producing an effect 
exactly the opposite to that which was intended. All human 
reason is comprised in this glorious and golden rule, "up to a 
certain point, everything within reason" or in "both and" or 
"also". This precisely is the mark of ripe seriousness, that it 
requires the requirement to be such that a man can with pleasure 
and satisfaction fulfil its obligations fully by steady and not too 
strenuous effort. What none of us has done, none of us of course 
can do; and if none of us can do it, the requirement must be 
changed to correspond with what we have shown we can do by 
the fact that we have actually done it more cannot be required. 
And therefore we require a Christianity which can be brought 
into harmony with all the rest of our existence, in view of the 
change which, with the increase of enlightenment and culture, 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 167 

has taken place in the human race, or at any rate in the cultured 
public, which is like the heart-pulse of the race.* 

This voice (even if it were not heard in the world, as indeed it 
is, and very loudly at that) finds a sympathetic echo in many a 
heart. It is well then that it should be heard. That this world has 
become changed, who will deny ? But is it for the better ? Yes, that 
is a question. That the world has become sheer common sense, 
who will deny? But is it a gain ? Yes, this too is a question. But 
it is eternally certain that nothing is so great an offence to common 
sense as the absolute, and (to stick to the immediate context of our 
discourse) this may also be recognized in the fact that common 
sense is never willing to acknowledge any requirement absolutely, 
but always requires that it shall be the one to require what the 
requirement shall be. To require that Christianity be done away 
with, or to give up Christianity, is therefore in perfect accord with 
this common sense. But to require that Christianity be changed is 
a misunderstanding. For Christianity cannot undergo change 
herein again we can recognize that it is diametrically opposed to 
'common sense', whose secret is that it can change in every way 
at the stroke of the clock, depending upon what the age, the 
public, the main chance, demand, or upon how the wind, the 
leaves, or the leaves of the newspapers (Blad og Bladene) happen 
to turn. No, Christianity cannot undergo change; to require this 
reduction of its requirements is an attempt to change it, which 
remains, however, totally without effect; indeed, as a mountain 
might look at a child which went up to it and said, 'Get out of 
my way', so must Christianity listen to this talk which requires 
of it the eternally impossible, that it be changed. 

Christianity cannot undergo change, nor is, it so situated that 
where everything and everybody changes it also is changed; nor 
is it put to embarrassment like human authority by the fact that 
all men change but that it should be forced upon anybody is not 
Christianity's will and never has been, On the other hand, it has 
been its will from the very beginning, and it is its will that it be 
presented unchanged, in all its absoluteness, so that every man 
can weigh in his own mind whether he will have anything to do 
with it or not. Though not even one single person will accept 
it, Christianity remains unchanged, not one tittle does it yield; 
though all accept it, not one tittle must be changed. It is God's 
love^to men Christianity proclaims, for every single man, the 



168 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

poorest, the most wretched, the most forsaken ; for his sake God 
has as it were set heaven and earth in commotion ; but though all 
men who now live or have lived were united in requiring only one 
tittle of change no, never! Every single man, the poorest, 
the most wretched, the most forsaken, if only for his own best 
interest he wills as God wills, is, according to Christianity, 
of infinite importance incomprehensible love! But, on the 
other hand, the countless millions of the race are before God no 
more than a gnat, or not even so much, if they do not will as He 
wills. 

How then should common sense and Christianity be able to 
come to an understanding with one another when they mutually 
repel each other like opposite poles? For in these sensible times 
it is not this which constitutes an obstacle between Christianity 
and men, that we men fail to live up to the requirement, Chris- 
tianity can put up with that, as it did in other ages when people 
had an infinite conception of the requirement and were willing to 
admit their own imperfection, to admit that the fault lay in them, 
not in the fact that the requirement was absolute. No, what in 
these sensible times constitutes the obstacle between Christianity 
and men is that people have lost the conception of the absolute 
requirement, that they cannot get it through their heads what 
use there is in having an absolute requirement, what good it can 
do, seeing that no one fulfils it, that the absolute has become the 
unpractical, the foolish, the ludicrous, that they (in rebellion or 
in self-conceit) invert the situation, seek the fault in the require- 
ment, and become themselves the requirers, requiring that the 
requirement be changed. *To will the impossible', say they, *is 
madness ; the sensible thing is to will what we are capable of doing. 
But to require the absolute is to require that one shall will the 
impossible, shall squander on this his strength, his time, his life, 
without getting an inch farther and this is madness, a ludicrous 
exaggeration.' Common sense is a rebellion against the absolute, 
though not a loud-voiced rebellion, at least in the first instance 
common sense would regard that as injudicious, and a more refined 
common sense always wishes (for certain reasons) that attention 
be not drawn to this, that it remain a secret between us that we 
have made this revolt, whereas the appearance is maintained 
that nothing at all has happened. Sneaking slowly onward, this 
common sense eats away the absolute bit by bit, undermining 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 169 

faith in and reverence for it and then finally perhaps an im- 
patient common sense bursts forth boastfully into speech, loudly 
proclaiming its wisdom, that the absolute is madness. Along with 
the growth of common sense there gains ground a certain sort 
of human lore, the lore concerning what we men actually &re y or 
are in these times, the moral situation regarded as the product 
of natural causes, explained by geographical situation, climate, 
prevailing winds, rainfall, distribution of water, &c. Whether we 
men are deteriorating from generation to generation is of no 
concern to this human lore, which merely reports with precision 
what we are^ according to the current quotation of the bourse and 
the market price in order that by shrewd acquaintance with this 
it may be possible to guard oneself against men and to make use of 
them, to succeed, to win advantages in this world, or to be able to 
justify and gloss over one's own wretchedness and mediocrity, or 
get leave to express with a good conscience of a sort (a scientific 
conscience) one's suspicion of anything better which might occa- 
sionally turn up. But how men ought to be^ about God's require- 
ments, about the ideals about this less and less inquiry is made 
in proportion as common sense increases. In the end one even 
finds such talk, if occasionally it is. heard ? this talk about how a 
man ought to be, one finds it a flat and insipid sort of thing, 
something rather countrified. *No sensible man wants to listen 
to that sort of thing, indeed he ought not, if he would not waste 
his time and his life. If it be a parson who talks about such things, 
one can tolerate it, with the proviso that it is a parson who properly 
preserves a sense of decorum, limits himself to declaiming this in 
quiet hours in the church but otherwise does not presume to 
press it. In such a case it may be tolerated, after all it is the 
parson's business, and common sense is too reasonable to interfere 
with this, though it is certain that, in rather a different way than 
poetry and art, a parson (who generally is neither poetry nor art) 
is a superfluity/ For if it is true that people have sometimes 
misused Christianity to intimidate the world certain it is *that 
now the situation is inverted, and the world with its common 
sense would intimidate Christianity, would intimidate the parsons, 
who for the sake of being tolerated become actors and declaimers, 
neither more nor less alas, many of them do not need to be 
intimidated to this effect by the world, they are perhaps only too 
willing to be seduced. 



I7o JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

If only this might be said and heard, this truth: that 'common 
sense*, which thinks the requirement must be altered to suit men ; 
Christianity, which maintains that man must be altered to suit the 
requirement, or that at all events the absolute requirement must 
at least be absolutely asserted that these two, common sense and 
Christianity, cannot come to an understanding with one another. 
For my part I shall always feel grateful to common sense and 
some respect for it, if it is honest enough to come out openly in 
speech and say that the absolute is ridiculous. 

This is not the dangerous thing, at least not for Christianity; 
for it is never dangerous for men to get to know how things really 
stand, least of all for that power which has truth so thoroughly 
on its side as has Christianity. On the other hand, it might be 
dangerous for Christianity if one holds down the truth, if not in 
unrighteousness, at least in ambiguity. As if, e.g., one were to get 
the notion that the text was doubtful, or that this saying, 'No 
man can serve two masters', was difficult to understand, so that 
in the one case profound research is needed, and in the other case 
long investigation, and that as a matter of course (seeing that 
research and investigation are not everybody's affair) there must 
be a few professors on hand, whose livelihood it then becomes to 
make research and investigation, for which cause they surely 
(either for the sake of science, or at least for the sake of their 
living) would take good care to make the research or investigation 
last just as long as they lived. This, however, does not succeed 
so well in our times. But there is also another way of holding 
down the truth in ambiguity: one may let the absolute require- 
ment continue to resound, but in such wise that something else is 
surreptitiously understood, namely, that in actual life one has 
nothing to do with such a thing, so that the absolute requirement 
becomes a Sunday solemnity, a divertissement enacted by parsons 
and in other respects a man's life remains entirely secure, 
untouched by the painful disturbance of the absolute requirement. 

No, Christianity takes the absolute requirement seriously, and 
though it may be that not a single person has been able to fulfil 
the requirement yet One has fulfilled it, fulfilled it absolutely, 
He who uttered the saying, *No man can serve two masters', He 
who here, as in every situation, not only uttered the truth but was 
the truth, He who was the Word also in this sense, that what He 
said, He was. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 17 1 

^It is about Him we will speak, about the Pattern. He has 
said, 'No man can serve two masters' and His life gave expres- 
sion to the fact that He served only one master. By paying atten- 
tion to His life we shall see the absolute requirement, and we shall 
see it fulfilled. Meanwhile we constantly recall to mind that Jesus 
Christ was not only a pattern but also the Redeemer, in order that 
the Pattern may not alarm us to desperation; and we recall it 
to mind also at this moment, when, as the Gospel we have read 
prompts us to do, we speak about 

CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 

or 

NO MAN CAN SERVE TWO MASTERS 

We shall see how His life from the very beginning had to be 
arranged, and how it must be to the very end, if He would give 
expression to the requirement of serving only one master, 
Moreover, we shall see how (especially since He could not wish 
to live apart in concealment, but, as the Pattern, must wish to 
make evident before men what it is to serve only one master), we 
shall see how it fared with Him, and must have fared with Him 
in this world, among us men, who all more or less serve two 
masters, and to such a point that we cannot calmly endure that 
there is One among us who will serve but one master, more 
especially if He will not retire into obscurity, but draws to Him- 
self the attention of all, and that with the claim that He is the 
truth. 

He let himself be born in poverty and lowliness, and not this 
only, but in despicable condition, of a betrothed virgin to whom 
the upright man who was betrothed to her showed a kindness in 
not putting her away secretly, which at first he proposed to do, 
and which itself would have been an act of forbearance. So it was 
He came into the world, in such wise that He remained outside 
the world, cast out of the world by His very entrance into it, 
'without father, without mother, without descent', by His birth 
not connected with any man whatsoever. But thus it behoved 
Him to be early attentive to what His life was designed to express: 
only to serve one master. Just as he who is to contest in a race 
is dressed accordingly, just as he who is to strive in battle is armed 
accordingly, so is His life from the very beginning adapted to 



172 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

make It possible only to serve one master. For birth (and it need 
not be the birth of a scion to an ancient noble house, or of an heir 
to the^ throne), birth itself, when through it a child becomes a 
member of a family, birth itself is a bond which at once unites this 
human individual with other persons in a close connexion; and 
it is connexion with the world, and all that is of the world, and 
so too connexion with other men, which makes it so difficult 
only to serve one master, and makes this impossible if the con- 
nexion is not broken, albeit love remains. On the other hand, the 
illegitimate child, knowing nothing of race and belonging to 
none, excluded from society, brought to birth at midnight 
behind a bush by one whose pregnancy was concealed so it 
was He let Himself be born (because there was no room, as 
also He was crucified because the world had no room for Him!) 
in a stable (for in the case of the despised maiden there was 
no family connexion with a layette in readiness), laid in a 
manger. If there is any question of connexion, it must be with 
the horses. 

True enough, this birth may be regarded from another side, 
from God's side: a heavenly glory irradiates this birth. It is not 
as at other times that the stars of the night shine unchangingly 
upon the earth; no, His birth which certainly did not seem like 
an important event on earth was an event in heaven, the most 
important event, one star particularly shines upon the place of 
His birth, diffusing blessed is the eye that sees it! heavenly 
splendour over the stable and the despised maiden and the dis- 
honoured husband and over the babe in the manger. This glory 
is superhuman, but just as Christianity always puts contradictions 
together, so that glory is not directly recognizable as glory, but is 
to be recognized inversely by lowliness and humiliation (the cross 
which is associated with everything Christian) so it is also in 
this instance. For the Christian cross is not superficiality, outward 
show, *both and*, without depth, a mere decoration, a cross in a 
star; no, seen from the one side it is quite literally, with frightful 
literalness, a cross, and no eye can behold the cross and the star 
combined in a higher unity, so that perhaps the lustre of the star 
would become somewhat less glorious, but also the suffering of 
the cross somewhat less painful. From the other side, conversely, 
it is the star that is seen; but the star is not worn (that is a later 
invention!), alas! it is the cross that is worn (cf. the Gospel), as 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 173 

a decoration, a badge. This, however, has always been and always 
will be an offence to common sense. For common sense says, *too 
little and too much spoils all, everything in moderation, the 
middle of the road, middle size,, this is the true way'. Common 
sense would therefore be well content to dispense with the star at 
the nativity this is too much, or so much is not needed but also 
it would insist upon birth in lawful wedlock, and in an honest, 
well-to-do, middle-class family, at the very least. But the Chris- 
tian mind is different;' it has at its disposition the heavenly but 
of the earthly not a thread. When, for example, Christ sends out 
His disciples well, surely He might have provided them with 
the necessaries; but no, they must possess nothing, and on the 
other hand, * Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little 
ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say 
unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward' (Matt. 10: 42), This 
is very superior. The mightiest monarch of all earth's mightiest 
monarchs cannot pay in this fashion for a drink of cold water 
but of course he takes good care that his emissaries or ministers 
are not at a loss for a glass of water. The disciple, on the other 
hand, is in absolute poverty, he is literally in want of the prime 
necessity of life, a cup of water and he has no money, he has 
nothing (God can be as niggardly as that, and then the next 
instant single out this same man by miracles), nothing to give for 
it; oh, yes, he has, it is true, he has a cheque payable in heaven, 
and, rightly considered, that is (but unfortunately not in this 
world) of greater worth than all the glories of the world, but 
money he has not, and nothing earthly which is unfortunate in 
this world, where money (rightly considered !) is still of more worth 
than all the glories of heaven. It is related of a traveller that far 
back in the country he found himself in pecuniary embarrassment, 
in spite of the fact that he was in possession of a bank-note of a 
very high denomination . . . which nobody was able to change. 
So it is with the Christian disciple. To common sense this, like 
everything Christian, is an offence. 'Too little or too much', says 
common sense, 'spoils all; let us dispense with this heavenly 
cheque, so much is not needed; but then let this thing of preach- 
ing Christianity be at least an assured good living, with a few fasts 
in the course of the year and some prestige in the community; 
the other thing, either way you take it, is an exaggeration. Why 
must the opposites be held apart from one another in such frightful 



174 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

tension? Why may there not be a little reduction made with 
respect to the miraculous, and then a little addition made with 
respect to the less divine perhaps but more directly human wish 
to be a bit comfortable in the world? Moreover, why this 
superiority, which makes so much ado, and such a strange ado, 
disdaining to possess a shilling, and then resorting to miraculous 
expedients ? It is not genuine superiority, but a far-fetched and 
affected exaggeration; the simple and natural thing would have 
been to give the disciples some money to take with them. If 
there is to be a miracle in addition, very well, then let it be per- 
formed thus : by one miracle once for all a fund is raised once for 
all, so that the disciples are provided for, and there is no need for 
more miracles. The other way is a double exaggeration, both 
with respect to too little and with respect to too much.* And this 
is what common sense is very apprehensive of, the thing it would 
on no account allow itself to be guilty of, it is the thing which 
common sense, the instant it sets eyes upon it, judges to be mad- 
ness, it is exaggeration. But without exaggeration it is impossible 
only to serve one master; and on the other hand, for common 
sense, closely connected with one person and another and with 
the whole world and all that is of the world, it is an easy matter to 
serve two or more masters. 

So then His life is as if calculated to make it possible only to 
serve one master; He is without family and family connexions. 

But the star in heaven has betrayed something only inquire 
of common sense, and thou shalt hear how well it knows that 
heavenly glory is not one of the good things a person might wish to 
have in this world, that it is generally a mortal danger. The star, 
as has been said, betrayed something: the king of the country 
took notice, and the despised family must flee with the child out 
of the country. The despised family ; true enough, a generation 
later (that is, too late) it was called the holy family but only 
irfquire of common sense, and thou shalt hear it say, *To belong 
to a noble or a rich family may be all very well ; I, however, do not 
ask for so much, I am content to belong to a middle-class family; 
but in this \frorld to have to belong to the holy family, no, I thank 
you, that wouid be the last thing, it is certain torment and wretch- 
edness. But hypocrisy has long let it be forgotten that this family 
was despised as long as it lived upon earth, hypocrisy makes parade 
of "the holy family", it would make us ana others believe that 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 175 

this condition of humiliation is glory, that heavenly glory and 
earthly glory come to the same thing. And hypocrisy is offended 
when the humiliation is depicted it is annoying, and in self-de- 
fence it calls this the blasphemy of us freethinkers/ 

^ The family (if one will call it such, for it is no family) flees then 
with the child. And now this child has no country. But this is as 
it should be, in order to make it possible for Him to express what 
it is only to serve one master. Just as he who is to contest in a 
race is dressed accordingly, and just as he who is to fight in battle 
is armed accordingly, so is His life from the beginning adapted 
to make it possible only to serve one master. For second only to 
the connexion which binds together the family comes the con- 
nexion which unites a people. 

In a certain sense, it is true, glory shines here also: the insigni- 
ficant child which was born in a stable suddenly becomes so im- 
portant that the ruler has all the infants under two years put to 
death, in the hope of putting this infant to death among the 
others. 'Again, too little and too much/ says common sense, 
'again an exaggeration. Let its birth be an event, and so be a link 
in the chain of cause and effect; but the child is born as less than 
an insignificance and then suddenly the birth is such a frightful 
event. If it is so important that this babe be born, it is nearly 
incomprehensible that it is born in a stable, where something 
might have befallen it. And on the other hand, what a frightful 
exaggeration, that the importance of this babe should be deter- 
mined by the murder of infants of the same age, not to speak of 
' the fact that it is this babe of whom it is said that he is to be the 
salvation of the world, and who begins by causing the death of a 
host of infants!' 

So then the child is now without a country. However, the 
family returns again, but must live In hiding. During a visit to 
Jerusalem at the festival the child is missing. And here is an 
incident which corresponds to and symbolically describes what 
was or became this child's work in life, to express what it is only 
to serve one master. The child stands alone, it was without family, 
without country; but now it is also without the two who were its 
support, who were anxiously seeking the child, and find it (very 
significantly) in the Temple, and the child says (is not this 
significant?), *Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's 
b**smess?' The mother does not understand these words (that 



176 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

is not strange), she treasures them in her heart (that was 
pretty)^ 

Nothing further is known about His childhood and youth. He 
doubtless played with the poor parents, was subject unto them and 
helpful to them which is no obstacle to serving one master; on 
the contrary, this one master is served precisely by obeying them 
whom He wills that one should obey. So He grew up, became a 
man ; but He was and remained, as we say, nobody. Nor did He 
possess anything or acquire anything to possess. Just as he who 
is to contend in a race is dressed accordingly, and just as he who 
is to fight in battle is armed accordingly, so was His life calculated 
to the end of being able to express what it is only to serve one 
master. Ah, but to become something in this world (not to say 
to will to become something in the world), to possess something 
(not to say to acquire something to possess) for this a con- 
nexion with the world and with other men is unavoidable, and, on 
the other hand, it is only too easy to avoid serving but one master, 
It is true that I have both read and heard sermons by men who 
themselves had become something in the world, sermons which, 
among other things, dealt with the subject of seeking first the 
kingdom of God; but I take the liberty of holding the opinion that 
this something which these men had become in the world they 
must have become in some other way than by seeking first the 
kingdom of God. I do not doubt that these men and every honest 
man will substantially agree with me that in case a person makes 
a serious business of seeking first the kingdom of God, nothing 
is more certain than that he will become nothing in this world, 
which, more jealous than heaven, insists that only he who seeks 
shall find, and where (as is not the case in relation to heaven for 
though it is true that the way to heaven is narrow, this is not 
because it is too much thronged) the throng of seekers is so great 
that not even all who seek can become something, though they 
perhaps always become a little more than one who seeks first the 
kingdom of God, for it is quite certain that he becomes nothing 
in this world. There is nothing that can be more easily substan- 
tiated; God forbid that anyone should be so dishonest or so 
impudent as to require me to substantiate it. I do not make myself 
out better than others. Indeed, in a certain sense, I surely have 
not become anything it is just this which offends several people, 
because they think that I might have been able to become some- 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 177 

thing. So then, according to the judgement of such people, 1 have 
not become anything. However, I dare not count upon that when 
it is the Gospel which is to pass judgement. When it is the Gospel 
i^hich is to pass judgement I must admit with shame that I have 
become something, though it is very little. Yet I must bear 
witness that this something which I have become I did not 
become by seeking first the kingdom of God, and I tranquilly 
await the attempt of the reverend parsons to substantiate the 
proposition that one can become something in this world by ... 
seeking first the kingdom of God, a thing which, inasmuch as it is 
to be done first, takes precedence of every other seeking, and, 
inasmuch as it is the kingdom of God, is heterogeneous with the 
world and with all that is in the world, including this thing of 
becoming something in the world. 

Therefore, to changing the requirement or abating it, as 
common sense would have it, I am heartily opposed, as Chris- 
tianity is opposed. Nor is it my desire that people should give the 
impression that we men comply with the requirement even in the 
remotest degree. No, this is the way I think about it. If I am to 
have anything to do with God and, oh, that surely ought to be a 
man's joy, his bliss, so that he is not inclined to bother about the 
whole of Europe, nor about the public, nor about comparisons 
with people here at home, &c., if only he may be permitted to have 
to do with God, every day plucked in his examination, it is true, 
yet having to do with God, which, according to Christianity, is a 
favour granted to all men if I am to have to do with God, I must 
put up with it that the requirement is the absolute ; if the require- 
ment is not the absolute^ then I have nothing to do with God, 
but only with this stifling thing, *the others', myself, the public, 
&c. No, no, O God in heaven, above all never recall the absolute 
requirement 1 For really it is Thee men would do away with when 
they would do away with the absolute requirement; and it is for 
this reason I cling so tight to the absolute requirement and execrate 
the common sense which by doing away with the absolute require- 
ment would do away with Thee. No, above all let it remain the 
absolute requirement! If I, while recognizing what the true 
situation is, might wish to become something, if I for the sake of 
finite necessities must try to become something in the world 
that is quite different from wishing to do away with the require- 
ment, and hence I can continue to be in relationship with Thee 



1 78 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

nevertheless, for I do not make a right-about-face, do not turn 
my back upon Thee, do not treat what I become in the world as 
life's seriousness; no, I let the absolute requirement continually 
transform me and what I become into beggarliness and wretched- 
ness. On these terms I can still is it not so ? have to do with 
Thee, O God, remain in relationship with Thee. 

Let then the annihilation, the inward annihilation before God, 
possess its frightfulness, its pain a man's enthusiasm ought to be 
the more blissful. Frightful it would be indeed if, in view of 
the fact that before Thee the most honest effort is as nothing, a 
man were to take occasion to abandon himself to inactivity, or if 
he were to give up entirely having to do with Thee, in order 
now to become a serious person who seriously strives to become 
something in this world. 

So His life, the life of Him who was the Pattern, was from the 
very beginning calculated with a view to being able to express 
what it is only to serve one master. He belonged to nothing and 
to nobody, stood in no connexion with anything or anybody, 
foreign to the world, in poverty and lowliness, without a nest, 
without a hole (as foxes have), without having whereon to lay 
His head. Like the straight line which is tangent to the circle 
at only one point so was He, in the world and yet outside the 
world, only serving one master. 

He might then have lived on in quiet obscurity, His life might 
have been worship in secret, belonging only and belonging 
entirely to one master, until death finally came. 

But this was not His thought. Even apart from the fact that 
He suffered Himself to be born to save the human race, to be the 
atonement by His suffering and death even apart from this, 
even if He had only wished to have been the Pattern, He would 
not in any case have lived in obscurity. No, this was His work, 
this His meat and drink, only to serve one master, but He would 
make this evident in the world, and hence He must step out, so 
to speak, upon the world-stage so as to fix upon himself the atten- 
tion of alL He Himself knew only too well what the consequence 
would be, that the attention of all directed to Him would mean 
His suffering, that to be heterogeneous with the others closest to 
Him, not to say absolutely heterogeneous with all, and yet to will 
to remain among them, is more dangerous even than when the 
soldier in battle falls out of step with the others, which so easily 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 179 

may end with his being trampled under foot. And He remained 
in the world. He did not retire from the world, but He remained 
there to suffer. This is not quite the same thing as when in our 
age preachers inveigh against a certain sort of piety which by 
the way is not exactly what is practised in our age (and hence it is 
strange to inveigh against it now) but it was practised in an age 
gone by, a piety which seeks a remote hiding-place, far from the 
world's noise and its distractions and its dangers, in order if pos- 
sible in profound quiet to serve God alone. They inveigh against 
this piety, they say that it is cowardice, &c. Wherefore nowadays 
we do differently and better, we pious people, we remain in the 
world and make a career in the world, shine in society make 
ostentation of worldliness . . . just like the Pattern, who did not 
retire cravenly from the world! Oh, depth of craftiness! To 
remain in the world, in the sense that one says good-bye to God 
and godliness, defining oneself and one's life in conformity with 
the world this sort (of piety!) is certainly not higher than the 
piety of the cloister. It mendaciously promises a double profit: 
first one plucks for oneself all possible pleasure (which the quiet 
dwellers in the cloister at all events renounced), and then one is 
impudent enough to require that this worldliness (what a delicate 
refinement !) be regarded as a higher sort, a higher sort (who ever 
could dream of such a thing !), a higher sort of piety, higher than 
the cloister's quiet retirement. Oh, disgusting! No, it certainly 
is not the highest thing to seek a remote hiding-place where it 
might be possible to serve God alone ; it is not the highest thing, 
as we can perceive in the Pattern; but even though it is not the 
highest (and really what business is it of ours that this other thing 
is not the highest ?), it is nevertheless possible that not a single 
one of us in this coddled and secularized generation is capable of 
doing it. However, the highest thing it is not. The highest thing 
is: while being absolutely heterogeneous with the world by serv- 
ing God alone, to remain in the world and in the midst of reality, 
before the eyes of all, directing upon oneself the whole attention 
of all for then persecution Is unavoidable. And this is Christian 
piety: to renounce everything In order to serve God alone, to deny 
oneself everything In order to serve God alone and then to have 
to suffer for It, to do good and have to suffer for it. This is what 
the Pattern expresses; and this also (to mention a mere man who 
was a distinguished teacher of our Church) Is what Luther again 



180 . JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

and again insists upon, that it belongs to true Christianity to suffer 
for the teaching, to do good and to suffer for it, and that to suffer 
in this world is inseparable from being a Christian in this world. 
We shall now see how it fared with Him who only would serve 
one master, how it fared with Him, that is to say, how it must 
fare with Him in this world; for as it fared with Him, so must it 
fare with Him, so would it fare with Him in the world in any age. 

He would express what it is only to serve one master, where all 
more or less serve two masters or many; and He would not live in 
obscurity, no, He would make this evident, He would direct the 
attention of all to Himself what then will the consequence be? 
The consequence will be that He will come into hostile collision 
with the whole world, with all men, and that they will seek in the 
most various ways to move, to persuade, to entice, to tempt, to 
threaten, to compel Him to become like them and unfaithful to 
Himself and to His task. And the world will stake everything 
upon carrying this warfare through, it will not let go of Him until 
the most shameful death has brought His life to an end. And 
what the world wills is the same thing that an evil power also 
wills, the prince of this world, who (like God !) requires that he 
alone be worshipped, which is impossible nevertheless, seeing 
that he is not 'the Lord', 1 the one master, so that everyone whose 
only master he is does not serve one master. This collision with 
the world, with the human race, which is instigated by the evil 
power, is from now on the history of the Pattern. 

He serves only one master; and just as he who is to contend in 
a race is clothed accordingly, and he who is to fight in battle is 
armed accordingly, so also is His mode of existence calculated 
with a view to being able to serve only one master. 

He is absolutely an alien in the world, without the least con- 
nexion with anything or with any single person in the world, 
where everything else is in connexion. It is harder for a rich 
man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to go through 
the eye of a needle ; but it is impossible for that man to serve only 
one master who has even the least connecting bond. 

He is not bound as a husband to a wife; no, He has not even 
any father, no mother, no brothers or sisters. He is connected 
with no family. He says (pointing to the disciples), 'These are 
My father and mother and brothers and sisters.' 

1 In Danish, Hern means lord as weB as master, and Herren is the Lord. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 181 

'But then after all He has disciples?" Disciples, yes; but if 
they^are true disciples, there is no bond in the connexion, for in 
relating Himself to His disciples, He relates Himself at every 
Instant first to God, serving Him alone; and if the disciples wish 
to form any bond of connexion, they are not disciples. No, it is 
not as difficult to grasp and hold tight with the hand what by 
reason of its smoothness slips through the fingers, as it is Im- 
possible for connexion to capture him who only serves one master. 

He makes His appearance as a teacher, and almost at the same 
instant He has the whole attention of that little land. 

He teaches: 'No man can serve two masters. 1 'Well, what He 
teaches would be all the same to us, if only He didn't go ahead 
and do accordingly; for then it becomes impossible to stay with 
Him. On the other hand, it is perfectly feasible that this thing 
about no one being able to serve two masters, that this thing 
might become (here is true seriousness !) an objective doctrine 
and then a kingdom of this world, where He, the teacher, be- 
comes king and prince, and we who have stood closest to Him, 
now find ourselves closest to the throne/ 

He made His appearance as teacher in the little nation, which 
as usual is divided into two parts : the mighty, and what one calls 
the masses. Both sides are observant of Him which of them 
will He join, which will have the good fortune to win Him to a 
connexion with it? Neither by birth nor by outward condition 
does He belong to the mighty; but they perceive well enough that 
He is a might. By birth and condition He seems to belong most 
closely to the masses, and they joyfully perceive in Him a might. 
But He serves only one master, solitary and alone ah, certain 
path to suffering, to destruction ! If thou dost behold in a winter's 
storm one who is clad in the lightest summer garments, not even 
he is so painfully exposed as he who wills to be a solitary man In 
a world where all persons are in connexion, and consequently 
require, with the selfishness characteristic of connexion, that one 
must hold together with them, until the individual secures himself 
against several connexions by entering into one connexion, 
whereas the solitary individual, as soon as it becomes evident that 
he will hold with none, has against him (grandiose connexion!) 
all connexions united in one connexion, " 

He would only serve one master; but He is (as everyone can 
see), He is a prodigious might. His contemporaries behold Him 



1 82 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

with wonder. At this moment there is no question of opposition, 
not even envy has asserted itself. No, all is wonder wonder at 
this man who. almightily almost, as it might seem, holds all 
possibilities in His hand, is capable of becoming whatsoever He 
will. It is like a fairy-tale, and wonder curiously attempts to 
guess the riddle: 'What will He be now? But something He 
must want to be ; and whatever it is He wills to be He must be able 
to attain it, and if it is what He wills it is sure to be something 
great* and then the united recognition of His contemporaries, 
or at least the united recognition of many of the contemporaries, 
will attach itself to Him enthusiastically. For human recognition 
is like natural love, friendship, &c., it is selfishness. Where there 
is direct ground for recognition, where the fact that someone is 
an eminent man is recognizable by worldly power, prestige, by 
*gold and goods* there also human recognition is prompt. In 
fact (even if the individual is not always conscious of it as the 
sly reaction of natural selfishness) it is the result of a very simple 
computation : by recognition in this instance I get the advantage 
of being on the side of the mighty, of being in the game by taking 
the part of the mighty, and at the same time I appear to be an 
amiable person whose soul is not shrivelled by petty interests but 
is expanded by disinterested enthusiasm. On the other hand, 
where direct reasons for recognition are lacking or are withheld, 
recognition is without profit, it is a severe effort, it means sacri- 
fices hence it is not shown, just as natural love and friendship 
fail to show themselves in cases where Christian love would be 
manifested. If God in heaven were to take the form of a lowly 
man, if He, divinely prodigal, if I dare say so, were to scatter on 
all sides cheques upon heaven human recognition will not go in 
for such grand behaviour. Human mediocrity which has attained 
popularity there is the thing the speculative mind loves to 
recognize. In case there is a child in the family who has eminent 
qualities, and this fact is directly recognizable by worldly honour 
and prestige, a European fame, stars and ribbons ah, then of 
course the family is sheer (disinterested!) enthusiasm. If he had 
been thus eminent, but without the direct signs of recognition, 
the family would soon feel him to be a burden, an infliction, and 
would wish rather that he was an entirely insignificant person. 
So it is with human recognition and He who only serves one 
master wills to be absolutely . . . nothing. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 183 

With the resources of omnipotence for that He has, although 
the use He makes of it hides this from the eyes of many, it is 
indeed like lunacy to employ, to have need of, the resources of 
omnipotence to become nothing with the resources of omni- 
potence He assures Himself of becoming nothing. And then He 
must come to the point of breaking with all men. Humanly 
speaking, He must make unhappy, immeasurably unhappy, the 
few who were so very dear to Him, the mother must feel it like 
a sword piercing het heart, the disciples must fee! it like the 
bitterness of death and it was He who held and holds all 
possibilities in His hand! Oh, soul-felt anguish of misunder- 
standing! And He must even in the case of the dearest, the 
best, the most upright He must come to the point of making it 
manifest that everyone, the dearest (alas, the dearest!), the most 
upright (alas, the most upright!), is nevertheless, when it comes 
to the pinch, a cowardly wretch, a traitor, a hypocrite. Fearful ! 
What after all is so comforting in life and in death as to have or to 
have had a favourable and good impression of a person ? What so 
comfortless as to get the opposite impression of a person one has 
loved and trusted ? Oh, my friend, reflect upon this ! There is a 
young man, he learns to know a girl, and this dear girl becomes 
his wife they reach seventy years of age, their day of life was a 
lovely summer's day, then in the evening she dies, and with deep 
emotion he says, 'Whatever other men have experienced, I have 
had the experience that there is such a thing as faithful love/ 
Happy man ! Appreciate then, not only what thou hast had, but 
what thou hast, thy happiness, the happiness of thy sorrow; oh, 
happy sorrow, that death did not take faithfulness from her, but 
only her with her faithfulness from thee ! For if this man had been 
obliged to lead this girl out into great and decisive tests, he would 
have got to know something else, that nevertheless she also was (to 
use the mildest term) a shabby lot, that he himself was the same, 
as I would of myself have the experience in great and decisive 
tests. There live two youths, they unite themselves closely to 
one another in the days of youth, and old age finds everything 
unchanged, as it remained throughout all of their obscure life; 
then the friend dies, friend is separated from friend, and the friend 
who stands by the grave says, * Whatever others have experienced, 
I have had the experience that there is such a thing as faithful 
friendship,* Happy man ! Enviable happiness, from experience, 



184 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

from so long an experience, to learn to know something so joyful ! 
[S. K. may have meant to have depicted a different possibility, 
as in the other instances, but he did not do so.] There is a man, 
perhaps older than thou, yet of such an age that thou couldst speak 
of him as thy contemporary; in him thou beholdest greatness, 
loftiness, and it chances to be in a season of calm weather ye live 
together then he dies, and at his grave thou dost say joyfully, 
'Whatever others have experienced, I have had the experience 
that there is such a thing as noble character/ Happy man! For 
be assured that what thou didst really learn to know was that it 
was calm weather; if a storm had arisen, thou wouldst have seen 
that he is shabby, like thee and me. Oh, most bitter of all suffer- 
ings (far more bitter than to discover how paltry one is oneself), 
to have to make it manifest that this (ah, one would give every- 
thing if only it might be truth as one thought it was!), that this to 
which one looked up as to something great and lofty (oh, take 
* this away from me, let me be exempted, if this must be made 
manifest, so let it be, but let it not be I that must make it mani- 
fest!) is shabbiness, paltriness! And this He had to do who 
only served one master; if He were to continue to the end only to 
serve one master, He must make this manifest of all, also of them 
yet here there can be no question of looking up to anyone, 
but we can say, also of them He loved, whom He loved as only 
He could love who alone was love. O Thou who wast love and 
leniency they were indeed willing to suffer everything for Thee 
and with Thee; couldst Thou not have abated a little bit, a tiny 
scrap, and therewith have spared them from getting this annihilat- 
ing impression of themselves : Paltry wretch that I am! Oh, soul- 
piercing torment, not to be able to spare them ! Oh, agony, not 
to be able in love to abate the least bit, the least scrap . . . because 
in love one would save them ! 

He serves only one master; He employs the resources of 
omnipotence in order to ensure Himself continually of being 
nothing! He employs just as much power in order not to budge 
an inch from the spot He has resolved to occupy and where He is 
determined to stay: in the midst of reality, before the eyes of all, 
where He will express, 4 My kingdom is not of this world/ And 
finally He employs just as much power in order to direct the 
attention of all upon Himself, This (as His contemporaries also 
felt) is like an attempt at wanting to compel the human race to 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 185 

lose its senses, for In fact He would press upon them, or impress 
in them, the qualification of Spirit 1 , which the human race has 
always considered a superfluity, and considered it necessary to 
protect itself by warfare unto death against this exaggeration of 
lunacy and 'possession', which must come from one who *has a 
deviP, This is like wanting to compel a person to lose his senses. 
For the law of relationship between being nothing and attention 
is this: what corresponds very reasonably to being nothing is 
obscurity, no attention drawn to one; what corresponds to being 
something is attention drawn to one then he comes up and looks 
around and says, 'Sure enough, here is something, it was reason- 
able that I was heralded, that attention was drawn. 1 To being 
something in a high degree corresponds a high degree of atten- 
tion; and being something quite extraordinary may, without 
disturbing this law, draw to one the attention of the whole con- 
temporary age. But here comes the crazy thing: to be nothing 
and with that to have the whole attention directed to one. This is 
just as crazy as to wish to erect in the midst of this world a king- 
dom which is not of this world. For if one would not have it be 
of this world, it is pure chicanery and caprice (in fact madness) 
to select a place for it right in the midst of this world; one might 
take his kingdom along and try to find another world, or at least 
seek a remote place in this world to set up a kingdom which is 
not of this world. But to select a place right in the midst of this 
world, that is playing for high stakes either he is mad, or the 
rest of us are; and this is a fight unto death: either he conquers, 
or we do, but we do not unite, any more than fire and water do. 

He, however, serves only one master; He does not yield a tittle 
by way of becoming uniform with this world or letting Himself 
be forced into any sort of uniformity by becoming something in 
this world, nor does He yield a tittle by way of letting Himself 
be forced outside this world, into remote seclusion. No ! Hence 
in the end the whole world, everybody united, turns against this 
man. How shall one get rid of him? 

How shall one get rid of him ? To liberate oneself from him by 
declaring him insane, and then tranquilly assuming again the 
attitude of being that something which every single individual 
i$ no, that's not practicable* he is too powerful for that, both 
with each individual and with the generation as a whole,, he has 
wounded them too deeply; this would be so everyone must 



1 86 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

feel -just as foolish as for the ants to liberate themselves from 
the funnel of the ant-lion by declaring that it is lunacy. So there 
is nothing else for it: one must protect oneself against him by 
resorting to the qualification 'guilt', by declaring that his life is 
the most terrible egoism, the most revolting pride. This, however, 
does not suffice, he is too strong for the human race. There is 
only one resource left: we men, the whole race, are to retire 
cautiously behind the quality 'God', and from that vantage ground 
aim at Him and direct the attack against Him, with God on our 
side; the accusation is found: He blasphemes God. 

So that will be the accusation ! His last hour draws near. He 
has had disciples; at the decisive moment, when He is struggling 
In anguish unto death, He finds them without anguish, He finds 
them sleeping they could not watch with Him one hour. One 
of them, however, did not sleep he employed the decisive 
moment to betray and sell Him. So He is seized and the disciples 
awake from sleep and open their eyes. They flee. The most 
faithful of them denies Him. 

He stands before His judges, accused, or rather condemned, 
scourged, arrayed with every possible insult, derided, spat upon 
then it occurred to Him : yet some time Thou must say what 
Thou art, now is the moment for it, now it is almightily ensured 
against being taken in vain so He says, 'Nevertheless I am a 
king/ *It is enough to cause a person to lose his mind, to 
become furious with the man, that He says this now. It is this 
we were all waiting for, that He should have said it at once, and 
he would have become that, nothing is more certain He seems 
only to have been waiting for this moment when it is absolutely 
too late, since He Himself has made it absolutely impossible, in 
order then to say, ''Nevertheless I am a king." ' 

He still might have got off with His life; the governor of the 
land is so kind as to refer the case of the accused to the so much 
lauded human compassion, which who knows ? might perhaps 
have interested itself in Him, had He not with so proud a mien 
up to the last made Himself unworthy of sympathy, proved 
incorrigible up to the last, without indicating in the remotest 
way by the least sign that He, won back to life and to the world, 
might yet have a desire to live in order to become something in 
the world. The people have the right to vote, to vote either for the 
acquittal of a robber, or for that of the accused. They vote for 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 187 

the robber. And that Is natural the other also was a far more 
terrible robber. For what is it after all to have assaulted travellers 
on the highway perhaps a dozen times, what is that compared to 
His assault upon the whole human race and upon the very notion 
of what it is to be a man ! For just think, a thief can steal my 
money; so far as that goes we disagree ; but in another sense we are 
entirely in agreement, for truly the thief is of the same opinion 
as I, that money is a great blessing. And the slanderer can steal 
my honour and reputation; but truly the slanderer Is of the same 
opinion as I, that honour and reputation are a great blessing. It is 
for this reason he deprives me of them. But In a much craftier 
way one can as It were steal from us all our money, honour, 
reputation, &c., steal out of the life of us men that In which we 
live. And that indeed is what He did, the indicted man. He did 
not steal the money of the rich no, but He took away the estima- 
tion attached to having money. 'Oh, paltry, contemptible 
mammon', this is what His life expressed, 'paltry mammon, with 
which a man defiles himself by hoarding it, which he heaps up to 
his own destruction, which he possesses to his perdition, so that 
finally in hell he will eternally execrate himself. Oh, if thou didst 
understand me, the thief who stole everything from thee thou 
wouldst regard as thy greatest benefactor, who helped thee as 
thou hadst need to be helped for It Is easier for a camel to go 
through a needle's eye/ Neither was He a slanderer who dimin- 
ished anybody's honour and reputation no, but He took away 
the estimation from human honour and reputation. 'Oh, paltry 
costume of buffoons, all the more paltry the higher It goes, the 
more it shines and sparkles. Thou knowest It not, It fares with 
thee as with that king who by mistake put on a shroud Instead of 
the royal apparel it is not this mistake thou hast made, it Is truly 
enough the royal apparel thou dost wear, but look out, precisely 
this is the shroud, the shroud in which thou shalt travel to hell, 
without needing to fear that anyone will deprive thee of It, for 
there It will be a torture to thee, as a punishment thou must 
continue to wear It cast out because thou hast not on a wedding 
garment.' 'But what is the good of it then that I am allowed to 
keep the money, that I am allowed to keep the purple, the stars 
and ribbons, what is the good of it that everywhere they present 
arms, that all fall upon their knees, when I make my appearance, 
what good does this do me when He puts through His point of 



1 88 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

view ? For Indeed He has taken away the estimation attached to 
all this, and if He prevails, it is rather I who am a fool every time 
they present arms, every time they kneel before me. If perhaps 
it is too severe to impose capital punishment for thievery and 
highway robbery for this sort of robbery which He has exercised 
against us all there is only one punishment, the death penalty.' 

So then as a blasphemer He was condemned to death. His 
crime was a warning to imitators! that He would only serve 
one master. In human legislation this stands inalterably firm, 
since public security requires it. 

So He is crucified. The death-struggle is a time fpr converse 
with Himself and with God. He does not say much. Once every 
half-hour He utters a word. The suffering overwhelms Him, 
and He bows His head; He cries, 'My God, my^God, why hast 
Thou forsaken Me?' But thus with bowed head He is not to die. 
*It is finished!' 'What is He talking about? Sure enough, it is 
finished, at least it can't be long before it is finished, for death 
cannot be very much delayed/ 'It is finished P So then, it is 
finished. Now as He is dying He lifts His head towards heaven : 
'Father, into Thy hands I commit My spirit!' 

'No man can serve two masters', this is His word, and He was 
the Word : He served only one master. So He was not only right 
in saying this, but right also in saying what He said in the Gospel : 
*No man can serve two masters/ 

Yet lest the thing might become too serious for us men, a deadly 
anguish to us, He diverts our attention from Himself and directs 
it to something else, almost as a diversion and recreation: 'Con- 
sider the lilies of the field, behold the birds of the air/ So He 
does not say, *No man can serve two masters . . . look at Me', no, 
He says, *No man can serve two masters . . . consider the lilies 
of the field, behold the birds of the air/ He might have said with 
truth, with infinitely great truth, if thou wilt, 'Look at Me/ For 
lilies and birds do not literally express anything, and only He 
is the truth of that which the lilies and the birds symbolically 
denote. But thus the seriousness would have been mortal. Hence 
He employs the lilies and the birds, and yet the seriousness re- 
mains; for the serious thing is that He says it. In relation to the 
communication of truth, if it is really to be true, the first question 
to be asked is whether it is true, and then, who the speaker is, 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 189 

what his life expresses. If a frivolous person, a spendthrift, or a 
miser, in a moment of poetic feeling utters this true saying, 
'Consider the lilies of the field, behold the birds of the air*, this 
is not then seriousness, but fudge and nonsense. When 'the 
Pattern' says it, on the other hand, it is seriousness, for His life 
is the truth of it. But seriousness is softened almost to jest by 
introducing the lilies and the birds. However, it is not something 
to laugh at strange sis it is that the sparrow also has now become 
a professor, and professor of the most serious science or art, 
notwithstanding that (differing in this respect at least from other 
professors) to-morrow it is sold for a farthing and eaten no, it is 
not something to laugh at, for the Teacher's presence in the 
classroom ensures that no one will dare to laugh. And He never 
laughed as it is said in an old hymn : 'Why does He weep who 
never laughed?" One might be tempted, however, to suppose 
that He said with a smile, 'Consider the lilies of the field, behold 
the birds of the air.' Ah, this is so gentle, so divinely gentle 
when the speaker is Himself the only one who ever has expressed 
what it is only to serve one master, when He knows that it will 
cost a life, then to be able as it were to forget all this and say, 'Let 
us talk about the lilies and the birds not about me!' Ah, when 
it costs Him His life, and heart-felt suffering every blessed day, 
every hour then to be able to impart instruction so delightfully I 
With a man it is different. When he has merely a little more than 
usual to think about, not to say when he is involved in strenuous 
and self-sacrificing effort, he will hardly be inclined to pay atten- 
tion to a sparrow or a lily; with man's stolid and surly vanity he 
thinks this something far too insignificant, something for children, 
womenfolk, and idlers. But the Saviour of the world says, just 
as if it were a Sunday afternoon or a holiday when one has 
nothing else to do: 'Consider the lilies of the field, behold the 
birds of the air/ How childlike, how wholesome! For quite 
different is the sickly thing one sometimes beholds: that a man 
who has become tired of dealing with men and tired almost of 
being himself a man, in a sort of uplifted mood now gets the 
notion of living with sparrows, a notion which, melancholy though 
it is, and perhaps sometimes wittily expressed, is very far from 
being seriousness. 

Consider the lilies and the birds! Take time, take plenty of 
time, and yet, in another sense, embrace the instant remember 



190 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

that now it is autumn. Lovely is the autumn ; but notwithstanding 
it is itself one of the seasons of the year, ah, the most beautiful, it 
is at the same time as if it were a remembrance of the season now 
vanished, or a reminder that it is now about to vanish embrace 
the instant. Then comes winter, the long winter; then thou wilt 
hear or see nothing of the lilies and the birds, then they have long 
ago decamped, these itinerant schoolmasters, who in this respect 
are different from the itinerant schoolmasters in the country, that 
the latter make use especially of the winter season and do not 
commonly hold school in summer, presumably lest they might 
conflict disturbingly with the lilies and the birds. Embrace the 
instant, be swift to learn but as for the lilies and the birds, have 
no concern, there is nothing about them to suggest that so soon 
it will all be over; always with the same assurance as in summer- 
time they deliver the lecture they have to give; the instruction 
they impart, being what they have learned by themselves (and it is 
so profitable to a man), is always even, uniform, constant, with 
no sudden alterations of mood, but 'always the same and about 
the same thing and in the same way*, 1 eternally unchanged in an 
incomprehensible way, yet always abreast of time and fitting into 
the instant. Oh, the beneficent peace out there, yet it is just 
what man is so greatly in need of, needing more especially to 
have it within him, the peace which is out there with thee and in 
thee, thou lily of the field, thou bird of the air, the peace which 
would banish so many real or imaginary sorrows and cares and 
worries, the peace which means repose or to repose in God. 

So give heed to the bird! It sings and twitters, and twitters 
this refrain oh, listen ! along with what oh, heed it well ! 
it is saying to Sorrow, the refrain of an ancient hymn: 'Yes, 
yes, to-morrow.* 2 And so the bird rejoices in 'to-day'. Then 
thinks Sorrow, 'Only wait, I will yet be on the watch for thee; 
to-morrow ere the day has dawned, and ere thou art risen from the 
nest, and ere the devil has his shoes on (for I am ever earlier afoot 
than he; I am one of his servants and forerunners who come first 
to prepare an entrance for him), then I shall come/ And to- 
morrow . . . the bird is there no more. *How is that? it is there 
no more?' *No, it has gone on a journey, it is away.' *How 

1 As Socrates said of his teaching. 

2 The Danish phrase (Ja t ja imor(g)en), having fewer consonants, and one of 
them elided, might be more easily recognized in the song of a bird. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 191 

gone on a journey? Its passport was sequestrated, and I swear 
by Satan, I know it has not journeyed without a pass.' * Well 
then, they may not have exercised sufficient vigilance, for it has 
gone on a journey ; it left a greeting for you, the last thing it said 
was, "Say to Sorrow, Yes, yes, to-morrow." * Thou art shrewd 
indeed, thou winged traveller, an incomparable professor in the 
art of living! Oh, to be able thus to say to Sorrow, *Yes 3 yes, 
to-morrow'; and then, after saying it, to enjoy to-day, to enjoy it 
almost doubly for the joy of having said this! And thus to hoax 
Sorrow not for a few days (for what does that avail ? Sorrow 
may as well come first as last), but to keep on saying this until, 
when Sorrow finally comes in earnest, it is a visit made in vain; to 
let it come running up every blessed day only to hear the reply, 
'To-morrow'; and when finally it might at last become a serious 
business, that then it comes in all seriousness, only to depart in 
vain. And the lily! It is pensive, it inclines its head a little, it 
shakes its head, as a sign to Sorrow: 'Yes, yes, to-morrow/ And 
to-morrow the lily has a legitimate excuse for absence, 1 it is not 
at home, it is away, the Emperor has lost his rights over it, if 
ever he had any, and Sorrow may just as well tear its claim to 
pieces, it has no validity; and that's the end of it, even if Sorrow 
becomes furious and says, 'The excuse is invalid/ Oh, to be able 
thus to say to Sorrow, 'Yes, yes, to-morrow'; and then to be able 
to remain quite tranquilly on the spot, charming in carefree joy, 
more joyful if possible for having had its jest with Sorrow: 
* To-morrow.' Not to hoax it for a few days, for a week; no, to 
keep on saying to Sorrow every time it presented itself, 'It is too 
early, thou dost come too soon', to keep on saying this until when 
it comes in earnest it is ... too late! Oh, what a master of the 
art of living ! One almost shudders, while admiring the master 
one almost shudders, for this is a matter of life and death. One 
almost shudders and yet, no, the master's art is so great (a 
thankless thing to be a great artist!) that one does not observe 
even the least shudder, and one surrenders oneself to this as the 
most charming and pleasant jest. 

Give heed then to the lilies and the birds! To be sure, there is 
'spirit in nature' 2 especially when the Gospel inspirits it; for 

1 A grim play upon words: Forfald also means decay. 

* An allusion to H. C. 0rsted*s famous book Aandtn In Naturen (The Spirit in 
Nature). 



1 92 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

then is nature nothing but symbols, nothing but instruction for 
men, it too is 'inbreathed' by God and 'is profitable for doctrine, 
for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness'. 
'Consider the lilies of the field; they sew not, neither do they spin' 
and yet the most skilful seamstress who sews for herself, or a 
princess who with the use of the costliest fabric has her sewing 
done by the most skilful seamstress, or Solomon in all his glory, 
was not arrayed like one of these. So then there is one who sews 
and spins for the lilies? That indeed there is: God in heaven. 
But as for man, he sews and spins. 'Yes, necessity is enough to 
teach him that, necessity teaches naked women to spin/ Fie upon 
thee, that thou canst think so meanly of thy labour, of what it is 
to be a man, so meanly of God and of existence as if it were 
nothing but a house of correction ! No, consider the lilies of the 
field, learn from them, learn to understand what thou knowest: 
thou knowest that 'it is man who spins and sews, learn from the 
lilies to understand that nevertheless really, even when it is man 
who spins and sews, it is God who spins and sews. Dost thou 
think that the seamstress, if she understands this, will become less 
diligent at her work and in it, that she will lay her hands in her 
lap and think: 'If after all it is really God who spins and sews, the 
best thing for me is to be free, to be liberated from this unreal 
spinning and sewing 7 ? If so, then this seamstress is a foolish 
little maiden, not to say a saucy wench, in whom God can take no 
pleasure, and who can take no pleasure in the lilies, and who well 
deserves to have the good Lord show her the door, and then she 
would see what will become of her. But this seamstress, our own 
dear lovable seamstress with her childlike piety, understands that 
only when she herself sews, is it God who will sew for her, and 
hence she becomes all the more diligent at her work, for the fact 
that by constantly sewing she constantly must understand oh, 
blissful pleasantry! that it is God who sews every stitch, for 
the fact that by sewing constantly she must constantly understand 
oh,- the seriousness of it ! that it is God who sews every stitch. 
And if she has understood this, through the instruction of the 
lilies and the birds, then she has comprehended the significance 
of life, and her life has become in the highest sense significant; 
and when at last she is dead, it may truly be said of her at 
the grave, with the greatest possible emphasis: 'She has lived'. 
Whether or not she was married is of no decisive importance. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 193 

'Behold the birds of the air!' How does it come about? Thou 
art troubled, thy mind is dejected, thine eyes are fixed upon the 
ground ! What is the meaning of this ? It was not thus God 
created man, as can be learnt from every child's primer. What 
distinguishes man from the beast is the upright posture. So then, 
if you please, up with the head ! 'Oh, won't you leave me in peace ? 
No, let us advance by easy steps. It would perhaps be too 
brusque a movement for thy sick mind, too abrupt a change, if 
suddenly thou wert to look up from earth to heaven. So let the 
bird come to our aid. It is sitting upon the ground where thy 
glance is fixed. Now it rises so much thou canst surely endure 
as to lift thy head so that thy glance may follow it. It mounts, so 
lift thy head a little more, and a little more. Now that is right: 
now the bird is high up under the sky and thou art in the correct 
attitude. Behold the bird in the sky oh, and acknowledge to 
thyself that as little as the vault of heaven can be said to press 
down, just so little is it God who depresses thee; no, the depression 
comes from the earth, or from the earthly in thee; but as the vault 
'of heaven is uplifting, so it is God who would uplift thee. 'Behold 
the birds of the air, they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather 
into barns.' Yet the birds certainly do not live on air any more 
than men do. So there must be one who sows and reaps and 
gathers into barns for them ? That there is indeed, namely God, 
the great caretaker and provider, or, as we call Him, Providence. 
He sows and reaps and gathers into barns, and the whole world is, 
as it were, His immense store-room. Tiresome people have had 
the tiresome notion of wanting to turn the whole world into an 
immense barn, so as to get along without God. That is foolish 
mimicry. No, when it is God who does this, it is delightful 
oh, the delight of the birds of the air, which sow not, neither reap, 
nor gather into barns! But this is what man does, he sows and 
reaps and gathers into barns. So learn then from the birds of 
the air to understand what thou knowest. Thou knowest that it 
is man who sows and reaps learn to understand that when man 
does this, it is really God who does it. 'What bosh ! When I with 
the sweat of my brow go out into the field and reap, so that the 
sweat pours down me, I have good reason to know with certainty 
that it is I who reap, at least it is I who sweat. Or is it perhaps 
really God who sweats ? Or, if it is God who reaps, why do I sweat 
so? Thy talk is grandiloquent, unpractical nonsense/ Oh, man. 



I 9 4 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

man, obdurate human mind, wilt thou never learn from the birds 
to be out of thy mind in order to become man ? Wilt thou never 
learn in godly exaltation, like the birds, to understand what work 
means ? Thou wilt certainly come far closer to the truth than thou 
art, even if thou wilt merely regard the" matter inversely, under- 
standing that to work is not a sheer trouble and burden from 
which one would preferably be exempted, that far rather God has 
granted man the power to work, in order to bestow upon him . . . 
a delight, a sense of independence, which is not bought at too 
high a price by the sweat of the brow for the fact that one sweats 
or does not sweat is not decisive; indeed, a dancer also sweats, 
but one does not for this reason call dancing a labour, a trouble, 
and a burden. This is the only godly understanding of what 
work means and with this one is very far from 'bemoaning the 
sweat of the brow. Take, for instance, a child and the parents* 
relation to it. Little Ludwig 1 is taken daily for a ride in his baby- 
carriage, a delight which usually lasted an hour, and that it is a 
delight little Ludwig understands very well. And yet the mother 
has hit upon something new which will delight little Ludwig 
even more. Couldn't he pull the carriage himself ? And he can! 
What? He can? Yes, look Aunty, little Ludwig can pull the 
carriage himself! Now let us be men, 2 and not put the child out; 
for we know well enough that little Ludwig cannot, that it really 
is the mother who pulls the wagon, and it is only to give him" 
delight she plays the game that little Ludwig can do it himself. 
And little Ludwig puffs and groans. Does he not perhaps sweat ? 
Yes, by my troth, he sweats, the sweat stands out on his forehead, 
in the sweat of his brow he pulls the carriage but his countenance 
beams with joy, he is intoxicated with joy, we might say, and he 

1 It perhaps adds nothing to the instruction of this passage that it can probably 
be regarded as S. K/s reminiscence of his own early childhood; yet there is some 
interest in the fact that Ludwig was a name he somehow associated peculiarly with 
himself. He constantly thought of himself as Ludwig. Psychologists at least may be 
interested in this curious mental trait. If in this passage, as in several others, Ludwig 
is S, K., then we have here a reference to his mother an affectionate reference and 
(psychologists may observe with interest) the only reference he made to her in any 
of his works, the Journal included. 

2 *Let us be men !* Perhaps this is another reminiscence. For in his university 
years S. K. seems to have been so much addicted to this exclamation that when 
Hans Christian Andersen held him up to ridicule in one of his stories, he represented 
him as a parrot which knew how to utter no other phrase. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 195 

becomes even more so every time the aunt says, 'Why, look, 
little Ludwig can do it himself/ It was a peerless delight. The 
sweating? No, being able to do it himself. So it is with being 
able to work. Rightly understood, understood in a godly way, 
it is sheer delight, something God himself has hit upon to give 
delight to man, concerning which God said to Himself, 'Decided- 
ly it will delight him more than to be carried constantly in a baby- 
carriage.' Here, as in every other case, the way one regards it 
makes all the difference. When it is to thy liking, for the sake of 
pleasure, thou dost not bemoan the sweat. Well then, let thy work 
be thy delight, understand it a something God has hit upon to 
delight thee; ah, grieve not His love, He believed it would delight 
thee well ! But there is a still higher godly understanding which 
we- learn from the birds : that after all it is God who works, God 
who sows and reaps, when man sows and reaps. Think of little 
Ludwig! He has now become a man, and so he understands very 
well the true situation, that it was the mother who pulled the 
carriage; he has now therefore a second gladness in the remini- 
scence of childhood, thinking of the love of the mother who could 
thus invent something to delight the child. But now he is a man, 
now he really can do things by himself; he now is led perhaps 
even into temptation by this really being able to do things by 
himself until that reminiscence of childhood reminds him how 
much he still is in the same situation as the child, that when a man 
works, it yet is another, it is ... God who works. Dost thou think 
that therefore he will be inactive or slothful and say, * If after all it 
is God who works, it is best that I be exempted* ? If so, then that 
man is a fool, not to say a shameless scoundrel, in whom God can 
take no pleasure, and who can take no pleasure in the birds^ and 
who well deserves to have the good Lord show him the door, and' 
then he can see what becomes of him. But the honest, upright, 
god-fearing labourer becomes all the more industrious for under- 
standing more constantly that oh, blissful pleasantry! God is a 
fellow worker oh, highest seriousness! Created in God's image 
as he is, with head erect, he looks up towards heaven at the birds, 
gay birds 1 from whom he learns that it is God who sows and reaps 
and gathers into barns. But he does not sink into inactivity, he is 
alert, attentive to his work otherwise he is not in a position to 
perceive that it is God who sows and reaps and gathers into barns. 
1 In Danish Spsgefugle means a jester, a wag (literally, jest-bird). 



196 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

Thou lily of the field, thou bird of the air! How much a man 
owestothee! Some of his best and most blissful hours. For since 
the Gospel installed thee as pattern and teacher, the Law was 
done away with, and pleasantry was assigned its place in the 
kingdom of heaven, so that we no longer are under the pedagogue 
but under the Gospel : 'consider the lilies of the field, behold the 
birds of the air!' But then perhaps all that about following 
Christ, about imitation, becomes a pleasant jest. He Himself 
helped us by not saying, 'Look at Me 7 , but 'Consider the lilies, 
behold the birds!* He pointed away from Himself, and we 
indeed we men were not to blame for it we took the hint only 
too willingly; shrewd as we all are when it is a question of sparing 
flesh and blood, we shrewdly understood only too well what a 
concession was made to us in having such patterns, and we became 
indefatigable in adorning it thinking only with a certain secret 
horror of the serious thing, the following of Christ. 

No, not quite thus may we be allowed to do, that would be 
making the Gospel so easy that substantially it would become 
(what precisely the following of Christ was calculated to hinder) 
poetry. 

For doubtless the lilies and the birds may be said only to serve 
one master, but that after all is merely figuratively said, and the 
obligation of man to 'follow after' them is poetically expressed, 
as also the lilies and the birds regarded as teachers are without 
authority. Moreover, if a man, with the lilies and the birds as a 
pattern, were to live as has been described above, so that he 
thought thoughts of God in and along with everything, this 
certainly is piety, and a piety which in a perfectly pure form has 
certainly never been seen among men. But in the strictest sense 
it is not yet Christianity, it is properly Jewish piety. What is 
decisive for Christianity is not at all evinced here, the notion of 
suffering because one adheres to God, or, as we say, suffering for 
the doctrine, which' properly is the following of Christ. 

Alas, yes, it is as if it were entirely forgotten in Christendom 
what Christianity is. When one would portray it even with only 
tolerable fidelity, it is likely that people will imagine that it is a 
cruelty, a torture of mankind, which he has invented^ to such 
a degree does suffering for the Word or for the doctrine accom- 
pany Christianity meticulously, that when a person merely depicts 
it with a tolerable approach to truth, he will draw down upon 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 197 

himself human disfavour. And, as has been said, in spite of the 
millions of copies of the New Testament which are in circulation 
and in spite of the fact that everybody possesses the New Testa- 
ment, is baptized, confirmed, calls himself a Christian, and in spite 
of the fact that a thousand parsons are preaching every blessed 
Sunday for all that it is not unlikely people will say the thing 
is this man's own invention, when quite simply he draws from 
the New Testament that which is distinctly enough written there, 
and in clear words, but which we men, from generation to genera- 
tion, have jettisoned in the most free-and-easy way, without 
consistently admitting that what we have retained is anything 
but the pure, sound, unadulterated doctrine. 

^Imitation', 'the following of Christ', this precisely is the point 
where the human race winces, here it is principally that the diffi- 
culty lies, here is where the question really is decided whether one 
will accept Christianity or not. If pressure is brought to bear 
at this point, and a strong pressure in that same degree there are 
few Christians. If at this point a convenient accommodation is 
made (so that Christianity becomes, intellectually, a doctrine), 
many enter into Christianity. If it is done away with entirely (so 
that Christianity becomes, existentially, as easy as mythology and 
poetry, while imitation is exaggeration, a ludicrous exaggeration), 
then Christianity widens out to such a degree that Christendom 
and the world almost correspond, or all become Christians, then 
Christianity has triumphed completely in other words, it is done 
away with. 

Ah, if only attention had been given to this in due time, the 
situation in Christendom would be very different from what it 
now is. But since human assertiveness became more and more 
menacing in refusing to hear anything of this nonsense about 
imitation; since mercenaries and thralls or at least very weak 
believers took upon themselves to be preachers of the Word 
then the history of Christendom, -from generation to generation, 
became a steady reduction in the price of what it is to be a 
Christian. Until at last it became such an absurdly low price 
that soon the opposite effect was produced, that men hardly 
wanted to have anything to do with Christianity, because as 
a result of that untrue mildness it had become so mawkish that 
it disgusted people. To be a Christian well, if only one does 
not literally steal, does not literally make thieving one's business; 



198 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

for to be a thief in one's business can well be combined with being 
a serious Christian who takes the communion once a year, and a 
couple of times a year, or definitely on New Year's Day, goes to 
church. To be a Christian well, if in committing fornication 
one does not exaggerate, or deserting the golden mean go to 
extremes; for cautiously, with decorum, i.e. secretly, with taste 
and refinement, that still can well enough be combined with being 
a serious Christian who at least hears one sermon for every 
fourteen comedies and romances he reads. And that there might 
be anything to prevent a person who is altogether conformed to 
this world and by every shrewd device seeks to assure himself 
of the greatest possible earthly advantages and pleasures, &c. 
that there might be anything to prevent him from thinking that 
this could perfectly well be combined with being a serious 
Christian that would be a ludicrous exaggeration, an imperti- 
nence if anyone who would enjoin such a thing upon us, and 
boundless foolishness on the part of him who risked this venture, 
since there was not a single person who would reflect . . . upon 
what is written in the New Testament or that it is written there. 
This is a cheap edition of what it is to be a Christian, yet it is the 
actual status; for that preachers declaim on Sundays during a 
quiet hour about the higher virtues, &c., does not alter the actual 
status on Mondays, since people explain such preaching by the 
fact that it is the parson's official job and his living, and since the 
lives of many parsons are not different from that actual status 
but properly it is the existence which preaches, the preaching 
with mouth and arms is of no avail. 

However, there also were those who held Christianity at a 
higher price, but never higher than about up to that quiet piety, 
which under the lenient regime of grace thinks often about God, 
expects every good thing from His fatherly hand, seeks comfort 
from Him in life's need. 

*To suffer for the doctrine', following Christ that is entirely 
abolished, consigned long, long ago to oblivion. Inasmuch as in 
the sermon one cannot very well entirely avoid saying something 
about the following of Christ (although some have known how 
to manage it in such a way it can be done), one does it by sup- 
pressing the really decisive thi^g and substituting for it something 
different: that one ought to endure the adversities of life with 
patience, &c. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN i 99 

But the following of Christ is abolished. Established Christen- 
dom, if only for laughter it could listen, would doubtless fall into 
the profoundest amazement if it were to hear that this is the 
doctrine of the New Testament (and in accordance with the New 
Testament, of all true Christians), that it is the part of the true 
Christian to suffer for the doctrine. To suffer for the doctrine 
in such a measure only to serve one master, in such a way to follow 
the Pattern that one suffers for being a Christian ! To suffer for 
the doctrine *No, no/ Christendom would doubtless say, *I 
believe now that the man has gone clean out of his mind; to 
require that one must suffer for the doctrine to become addicted 
to Christ in such a measure is then far worse than becoming 
addicted to gambling, drink, or adultery. It is all well enough, 
as the parsons preach, that Christianity is a gentle consolation, 
a sort of assurance for eternity, it's all right, that is a thing a man 
may be willing to give his money for and perhaps it is paid for 
pretty dearly with the high tithes now exacted, so that in this 
respect we might be said to. suffer for the doctrine. But to be 
obliged to pay to have this preached, that one must suffer for the 
doctrine! The man is stark mad/ And yet the blame is not his; 
the 'stark madness' really is that in preaching Christianity they 
have left out and suppressed what does not please the worldly 
and earthly mind, and so have prompted all this worldliness to 
imagine that it is Christianity. 

Oh, if they had held tenaciously to this point, to the following 
of Christ! If, instructed by the errors of earlier ages, they had 
truly held to this point! This did not come to pass. So it must 
come to pass. * Imitation', which answers to Christ as the Pattern, 
must (if Christendom is to make sense) be again introduced, but 
(as I have hinted) in such a way as to show that we have learnt 
something from the error of earlier ages. 

Without introducing 'imitation* it is impossible to get the 
better of doubters. Hence it is that the situation in Christendom 
is what it is, that doubt is posited instead of faith. And then they 
want to arrest doubt ... by reasons; and in this course they are 
not yet arrested, they have not yet learnt that it is wasted effort, 
indeed that it is to nourish doubt to give it a reason for persisting; 
they have not yet become awake to the fact that 'imitation' is the 
only force which, like the police force, is able to scatter the dis- 
orderly mob of doubt, and to give it a will and a compulsion, if 



200 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

one would not be a 'follower', at least to go home and keep one's 
mouth shut. 

'Imitation*, which answers to 'Christ as the Pattern', must be 
brought to the fore, applied, recalled to remembrance. 

Let us take up the matter fundamentally, yet with all brevity. 
The Saviour of the world, our Lord Jesus Christ, did not come to 
the world to bring a doctrine; He never lectured. Since He did 
not bring a doctrine, neither did He seek to prevail upon anyone 
by reasons to accept the doctrine, nor seek with proofs to sub- 
stantiate it. His teaching in fact was His life, His presence 
among men. If anyone desired to be His disciple, His way of 
going about it, as can be seen from the Gospel, was quite another 
way than the method of lecturing. He said to such a man some- 
thing like this: 'Adventure a decisive action, then we can begin/ 
What does that mean? It means that one does not become a 
Christian by hearing something about Christ, by reading some- 
thing, by thinking thereupon, or while Christ still lived upon 
earth, by seeing Him once in a while, or by going and gaping at 
Him the whole day. No, what is required is a predicament (situa- 
tion): 1 adventure upon a decisive action, so that thou dost become 
heterogeneous with the life of this world, unable any longer to 
have thy life in it, dost find thyself in conflict with it then thou 
wilt gradually be brought into such a tension that thou wilt be able 
to be observant of what I am here saying (says Christ). Perhaps 
also the tension will so affect thee that thou wilt understand that 
thou canst not support it without having recourse to Me, and so 
we can begin. Could one expect anything else of 'the Truth* ? 
Must it not give expression to the fact that it is the taught who 
needs the teacher, 'the sick man who needs the physician' ? Not 
inversely, as Christianity was preached in a later age, that it is 
the physician who 'needs the patients', the teacher who needs the 
pupils, and therefore, as a matter of course (like any other sales- 
man, who surely does not require that the highly esteemed public 
should buy a pig in a poke), must be at your service with reasons, 

1 By the use of a strange word, which. I find in no dictionary, and which S. K. 
parenthetically interpreted by Situation*, he means to indicate such a 'decisive 
action* as he himself had in mind and was about to perform it expresses in a new 
way his constant thought of the necessity cf Venturing far out , . . where God can 
get hold of one*. 'Decisive action* is a luminous commentary upon many a passage in 
the Gospels where we have the response of Christ to a man who proposes to be a 
disciple. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 201 

proofs, recommendations from others who have been cured or 
instructed, &c. But the divine truth ! Yet the fact that it behaves 
differently is not to be attributed to what one might call divine 
pride of superiority. Oh ? no, in this respect the Saviour of the 
world was doubtless willing, as in all other ways, to humiliate 
Himself; but it cannot be otherwise. 

We will not linger upon the way in which Christianity gradually 
spread abroad in the world; we hasten on to a definite point which 
is decisive for the situation in present-day Christendom. 

We halt for a moment at the Middle Ages. However great its 
errors may have been, its conception of Christianity has a decisive 
superiority over that of our time. The Middle Ages conceived 
of Christianity with a view to. action, life, the transformation of 
personal existence. This Is its valuable side. It is another matter 
that there were some singular actions they especially emphasized, 
that they could think that fasting for its own sake was Christianity, 
and so too going into a monastery, bestowing everything upon 
the poor, not to speak of what we can hardly refer to without 
smiling, such as flagellation, crawling on the knees, standing upon 
one leg, Sec., as if this were the true imitation of Christ. This was 
error. And as is the case when one has turned into the wrong 
path and pursues it steadily, one gets farther and farther from the 
true way, deeper and deeper into error, the situation becoming 
worse and worse so it was here. What was worse than the first 
error did not fail to make its appearance, that they got the idea of 
meritoriousness, thought that they acquired merit before God by 
their good works. And the situation became worse than this : they 
even thought that by good works one might -acquire merit to such 
a degree that it accrued not only to his advantage, but that like a 
capitalist or bondsman one might let it accrue to the advantage 
of others. And it became worse, it became a regular. business: 
men who had never once thought of producing any of these so- 
called good works now got a complete assortment to deal with, 
being active as shopkeepers in selling for money the good works 
of others at a fixed but moderate price. 

Then Luther came forward. 'This situation*, said he, 'is 

spiritual apathy. It is a dreadful apathy; otherwise you who by 

good works think to merit the blessedness of heaven must per- 

, ceive that this is the sure path, either to presumptuous-ness (and 

with this the forfeiture of blessedness), or to despair (and with 



202 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

this the forfeiture of blessedness). For to wish to build upon good 
works the more thou dost practise them, and the stricter thou 
art with thyself, the more dost thou develop in thyself simply 
anguish of dread, and ever new dread. On that path if a man 
is not entirely spiritless, on that path he attains exactly the 
opposite* of quiet and rest for his soul, he attains disquietude and 
unrest. No, a man is justified only by faith. And therefore, in 
God's name, to hell with the Pope and all his auxiliary assistants, 
along with all your fasting, flagellation, and all the monkey- 
shines which are resorted to under the name of 'following 7 . 

But let us not forget that for all this Luther did not do away 
with the following of Christ, nor with the voluntary imitation, as 
the effeminate coterie is so fain to make us believe. He applied 
imitation in connexion with witnessing for truth, and (without 
imagining, however, that it was meritorious) in this respect he 
voluntarily exposed himself to dangers enough. In fact, it was not 
the Pope who attacked Luther, but Luther who attacked the Pope; 
and Luther's life, although he was not put to death, was never- 
theless a sacrificed life, a life sacrificed to witnessing for truth. 

Present-day Christendom (that at least of which I am talking) 
attaches itself to Luther; it is another question whether Luther 
could subscribe to it, whether the turn which Luther took may 
not only too easily lead into a wrong path when Luther is not at 
hand to make truth of the true turn he took. At all events, if any- 
one would perceive what may be questionable in the present 
situation, the best way doubtless is to look back to Luther and 
the turn he took. 

The erroneous path from which Luther turned off" was exaggera- 
tion with respect to works. And quite rightly, he was not at fault: 
a man is justified solely and only by faith. So he talked and taught 
. . and believed. And this was not taking grace in vain, his whole 
life was testimony to this. So far so good. 

But already the next generation slackened; it did not turn in 
horror from exaggeration in respect to works (of which Luther 
had had personal experience) into the path of faith. No, they 
transformed the Lutheran passion into a doctrine, and with this 
they diminished also the vital power of faith. In this way it was 
diminished from generation to generation. Works well, God 
knows that there was no question any more about them, it would 
be a crime to accuse this later age of exaggeration with respect to 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 203 

works, and people were not so silly as to presume to claim merit 
for what they exempted themselves from doing. But then as to 
faith is it to be found upon earth ? 

What Christ required as a condition for reaching the situation 
where there can be any question of becoming a Christian was a 
decisive action there is now no longer any need of that. One's 
life is essentially homogeneous with worldliness and with this 
world, and so one hears perhaps a little about Christianity 3 one 
reads a little, thinks a little about Christianity, has once in a while a 
religious mood and so one is a believer and a Christian. Indeed, 
one is already a Christian beforehand: one is born as a Christian, 
drolly enough, and what makes it still more droll, one is born as a 
Lutheran. That undeniably is a very precarious way of becoming 
a believer and a Christian; it has very little likeness to the experi- 
ence of Luther the experience of horror, when through a course 
of years he had tortured himself in a monastery without finding 
rest for his soul or rest from this horror, then in the end to find 
escape by the blessed path of faith, so that it is no wonder that 
this much tried man witnessed so strongly against building one's 
blessedness upon works, not witnessing against works it was 
only the sly world which thus misinterpreted him. 

But when they had done away with the notion of becoming a 
Christian by means of a decisive action capable of bringing about 
the predicament (situation) in which it is decided whether one 
will be a Christian or not, then (for the sake at least of doing 
something) they put in its stead the notion of thinking about 
Christianity, supposing they would become Christians in this way, 
and intending to advance subsequently beyond faith; 1 for they 
did not stop at faith and this is not to be wondered at, for they 
did not start out like Luther from exaggeration with respect to 
works and then attain faith, but they began as a matter of course 
with faith, which 'naturally* every man has. If one would call 
medieval Christianity the monastic-ascetic type, one might call the 
Christianity of our age the professor-scientific type. Not all, it is 
true, could become professors; but nevertheless all acquired a 
certain professorial and scientific -cast of mind. And just as in 
the first period not all could become martyrs, but all stood in 

1 Hegel and the Hegelian theologians regarded the simple data or faith as inade- 
quate apprehensions of reality which the philosopher and the professor must tran- 
scend. Against this going beyond faith S. K. constantly protested. 



204 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

relationship with the martyrs; and as in the Middle Ages all did 
not enter the monastery, but all stood in relationship with the 
monastery and regarded the man who entered the monastery as 
the genuine Christian so in our time all stand in relationship 
with the professor, the professor is the genuine Christian. And 
with the professor came scientific learning, and with learning came 
doubters, and with learning and doubters came the scientifically 
learned public, and then came reasons fro and contra^ and people 
were swayed pro and contra, *for pro and contra in this case much 
can well be said 7 . 

The professor! This personage is not once mentioned in the 
New Testament from which we can perceive first of all that 
Christianity came into the world without professors 7 .- For the 
professor changes the whole point of view of Christianity. 

And therefore imitation must be introduced. To the professor 
corresponds Christianity as objective teaching, as mere doctrine.* 
Thus by means of doubt or by means of reasons this conception 
of Christianity plays victory into the hands of doubt, and trans- 
forms (what Christianity most decisively counts the most decisive 
thing) decision into postponement from a day to a week, to a 
month, to a year, to a lifetime. When the 'professor' stands at his 
apogee and Christendom sees itself in the professor, as once it saw 
itself in the monastery, the situation in Christendom will be this: 
Christianity properly does not exist, adhuc sub judice Us est, 1 one 
awaits the result as to what Christianity is or what is Christianity. 
Faith does not exist, what exists is at the most a mood which 
fluctuates between remembering Christianity as a thing already 
vanished, and expecting it as a thing to come. Imitation is an 
impossibility, for when everything has been put in suspense, it is 

* It is true that in better times there was in parts some Christian learning; but the 
individual (the exception) who occupied himself with this scientific learning had the 
Christian sobriety (expressive of the fact that for him it was decided that he would 
be a Christian, and that for him the decisive thing was to be a Christian) to live 
himself as an ascetic, thus expressing far, far more strongly by his life that Chris- 
tianity is all the same something entirely different from a science, like mathematics, 
&c., which is indifferent to personality, and that the very, very last way for Christianity 
to be brought to its apogee is when in homogeneity with this world, by worldly 
successful docents, it is lectured upon as an objective science, or when with constantly 
more and more learning, the decision to become a Christian, or to become a Christian 
otherwise than by 'protestations', is put off, because one is constantly expecting . . . 
a result from the part of science. 

1 The case is still on trial. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 205 

impossible for one to make a beginning with anything decisive^ 
but one's existence drifts as it were with the current, and one 
employs one's natural self-love to make life as comfortable for 
oneself .as possible. The 'professor* can make nothing fast; 1 the 
one thing he can do is to put everything in suspense. Sometimes 
it looks as if what the professor asserts is the most reliable cer- 
tainty. That, however, is a deception, due rather to his serious 
mien and protestations, whereas more closely examined even his 
most secure position is yet within the sphere of scientific doubt 
and therefore in suspense. Only imitation is capable of making 
the end fast; but just as the king turned pale when an invisible 
hand wrote upon the wall, 'Thou art weighed and found too light* ; 
so the professor turns pale before imitation that also says, 'Thou, 
with all the weight of thy objective learning, thy folios and sys- 
tems, art weighed and found too light/ What wonder indeed, for 
in a Christian sense it is precisely objective learning which weighs 
least of all In the scales. When the monastery Is the misleading 
thing, faith must be introduced; when the 'professor' is the 
misleading thing, imitation must be introduced. 

Imitation must be brought to mind, but (as was previously 
remarked) In such a way that we have evidently learnt something 
from the errors of past times. 

The mildest way to introduce it is ... in the form of possibility, 
or (as one might say) dialectically, that Is, In such a way that 
it merely exerts pressure to bring doubt to silence and administer 
a little justice upon existences. Thus it works quite simply (as I 
have Indicated in a previous book) : only he is allowed to advance 
doubts whose life bears the impress of imitation, or he who at least 
by a decisive action has got so far out that there could be a ques- 
tion of his becoming a Christian. Everyone else has to hold his 
tongue, he has no right to take part in speaking about Chris- 
tianity, least of all contra. 

This is the mildest way in which Imitation can be introduced; it 
is only the 'professor' that is shaken off, the assumption of scholarly 
importance that is repulsed; for the rest, everybody is leniently 
treated who will relate himself beseemingly to Christianity, 

1 It appears in the sequel that S. K. has here the analogy in mind which he often 
makes use of, namely, that in sewing, the end of the thread must first be secured by a 
knot. In the end he attached to this analogy the tragic thought that the only effective 
way to make the thread fast is for a man to die as a witness for the truth. 



206 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

however far behind he may be, however, far from being able to 
be called a follower of Christ, he is leniently treated, and nobody 
(this- at least ought to be a lesson learnt from a vanished age) is 
pressed by fear to the point of venturing perhaps beyond his 
strength under grace one draws breath freely and frankly. In 
case anyone would in the strictest sense be an "imitator* if that 
is truth, I will discreetly make place for him and also bow before 
him. But as the situation now is in Christendom, as I am, who 
am no better than the others, my notion is that the proposal I 
have made will already be something won. And I for my part 
have a dread of this high ideal : in the strictest sense to suffer for 
the doctrine, to be an imitator, whereas I make no concealment 
.of the fact that this is the requirement of Christianity. But I have 
a dread oh, for with this the notion of meritoriousness may so 
easily come back again; and this is what I am most afraid of. 
When one arranges one's life as comfortably and enjoyably as 
possible, and never in the remotest way thinks of sacrificing 
anything or of renouncing anything which one can get then it 
is easy enough to keep clear of the notion of meritoriousness. But 
truly when a man sacrifices something or much, and then in the 
daily suffering which was his reward he must drink what humanly 
speaking is the bitterness of being so rewarded oh, it may so 
easily happen to a man in a weak moment of forgetfulness to 
think that he has merits before God, that he (to speak figuratively, 
'but by a figure which only weakly expresses what I mean), that 
he as a subject in the presence of the King forgets himself and 
lays his hand upon his sword. Ah, that is, humanly speaking, 
only too easy to understand. Frightful danger! I agree entirely 
with Luther (whether he actually expressed himself in these words 
or not), that a man who countless times, if that were possible, 
every blessed day and throughout a whole life, had been guilty of 
the most dreadful crimes . . . and yet has the comfort left to him 
of saying to God, *O God be merciful to me a sinner'; that he may 
count himself indescribably happy in comparison with him who 
in the greatest possible self-denial, making every possible sacrifice 
for the truth throughout a long life ... a single instant was in 
error and thought that he had merit before God. Oh, what a 
terrible curse a man may bring down upon himself, venturing to 
sacrifice everything, to suffer everything and then that this 
should become for him the most frightful torment by reason of 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 207 

presumptuousness before God. This Is my belief. There are 
moments when I do not think that one can acquit Luther of 
a certain melancholy; but nevertheless I entirely agree with 
him. And therefore I do not venture to introduce imitation 
further than as a pressing possibility, which is able to repress 
doubt into silence and exert pressure in the direction of humility. 
This is a mild accommodation, I admit; I do not intend to go 
about modifying Christianity secretively. No, I announce with 
all possible solemnity that I do it. Some have, even according 
to my mild conception, illicitly modified Christianity. It is not 
against this I protest; but they have done it as secretly as possible, 
they have said to themselves, 'Tut, nobody will observe it/ This, 
to my mind, is revolting. Of whom might I be afraid ? Of men ? 
Them I fear not and ought not to fear. Of God ? But what is the 
use? However secretly I do it, He sees it nevertheless; and what 
perhaps He does not forgive me is just this, that I keep it secret. 

Imitation must be introduced, to exert pressure in the direction 
of humility. It is to be done quite simply in this way: everyone 
must be measured by the Pattern, the ideal. We must get rid of 
all the bosh about this being said only to the Apostles, and this 
only to the disciples, and this only to the first Christians, &c. 
Christ no more desires now than He did then to have admirers 
(not to say twaddlers), Hb wants only disciples. The 'disciple' is 
the standard : imitation and Christ as the Pattern must be intro- 
duced. That as a consequence I am plucked or barely pass is a 
thing I can humbly put up with. But I and every man shall be 
measured by the ideal, in accordance with the ideal it shall be 
determined where I am. It shall not oh, God be praised that it 
shall not (for it is but a sorry and pitiful short-sightedness to sell 
one's lofty dignity, i.e. to take to the ideal the attitude of the 
pass-man, in order to gain the imaginary satisfaction of mediocrity 
by comparison with others, a short-sightedness like that of Essau 
when he sold his birthright for a dish of lentils), it shall not be 
so that we men are permitted to abrogate the ideal requirement, 
saying that the thing is not for us, and then to hunt up a certain 
mediocrity, and then begin there and make that the standard, 
and then perhaps become distinguished . . . merely because the 
standard has been altered to suit us. 

Let me illustrate what I mean by a picture. Take a school, 
suppose that there is, as we can imagine, a class of i oo pupils of 



208 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

equal age who have to learn the same thing and are graded by the 
same standard. To be from No. 70 down is to stand very low in 
the class. What then if the thirty pupils from No. 70 down got 
the notion that they might be allowed to form a class to them- 
selves? If so, then No. 70 would accordingly become No. i in 
the class. That would be to get up higher. Yes, if one likes tQ 
put it so; but according to my conceptions it would be to go still 
lower down, to sink down in pitiable, mendacious contentment; 
for to be truly willing to put up with being No. 70 according to a 
real standard is to be nevertheless much higher up. So it is in real 
life. What is it to be bourgeois'? What is spiritual apathy? It 
means to have the standard changed by leaving out the ideals, it 
means to have the standard changed to correspond with what we 
men who now live in this place actually are. The whole of Europe 
may be bourgeois^ and a little out of the way provincial town may 
not be. All depends upon whether the true standard is used. 
But sensual well-being is no friend of the ideal standard. 

Here we see why things have gone backward in Christendom. 
It is because they have abolished imitation, and not even em- 
ployed it to exert pressure this being the exact reverse of 
the Babylonian revolt against heaven at the Tower of Bebel, 
the exact reverse, for that (very far preferable in spite of 
denial) was a rebellious attempt to take heaven by storm, the 
other is an attempt to get rid of heaven and the ideals by a 
disclaimer made in self-conceit and self-contentment. Let us 
imagine a Christian city. Christianly understood, the standard 
is the disciple, the follower. On the other hand, there is, e.g., 
Pastor Jensen. He is a talented, shrewd man, and there is 
much to be said in his favour. So let us make him No. i and 
regulate ourselves by his example; that is a sensible thing, for 
thus one may become something in the world. 'Yes,, but accord- 
ing to the ideal standard Mr. Jensen (to recall that picture) is, 
only No. 70 in the class.* 'Pshaw! A fig for the ideals! If we 
have to have them with us, nobody can want to live.* And what 
is Mr. Jensen's view? His view is (and thereby we recognize 
that he is not even No. 70), his view is that he can aptly serve as 
the standard and model, that these exorbitant requirements are 
fantastical. And thus they play in the city the game of Christianity : 
Pastor Jensen, a society man, as if created expressly for this social 
sport, becomes the genuine Christian in the game, even an 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 209 

Apostle, is acclaimed in the newspapers as an Apostle, in the 
capacity of an Apostle (capital!) is overwhelmed with all the 
comforts of life, which also (in the capacity of an Apostle ?) he 
well knows how to appreciate. 

Here we see how bourgeois a thing it is to accommodate oneself 
in self-styled Christianity in such a way as to abolish Christianity. 
What the requirement of Christianity is is not a fixed thing, it 
depends upon what sort of people one lives amongst. Instead of 
imitation, what one really gets is the notion of being what people 
for the most part are, and to be a little better is to be great. But 
when the price of becoming a Christian is so cheap, then comes 
idleness, and then comes doubt, and then the real truth comes to 
evidence, that one cannot conceive why Christianity need be. 
And that is perfectly true; for if the requirement is no greater, 
then a saviour, a redeemer, grace, &c., become fantastic luxuries, 
and in so far as one does not let go of Christianity but continues 
to make movements in terms of it, one becomes as ridiculous as a 
child who wears his father's clothes. What Christianity pre- 
supposes, namely, the tortures of a contrite conscience, the need of 
grace, the deeply felt need, all these frightful inward conflicts 
and sufferings what Christianity presupposes in order to intro- 
duce and apply grace, salvation, the hope of eternal blessedness 
all this is not to be found, or is to be found only in burlesque 
abridgement *at bottom it is sheer superfluity which at the most 
one imagines the need of. And so in the end one becomes tired 
of Christianity; for the pressure of imitation was lacking, the 
ideal, Christ as Pattern. 

To suffer for the doctrine, to will to suffer for the doctrine, 
not incidentally to suffer for it by chance well, that kind of 
Christianity has gone out of use. The next kind of Christianity 
(where in any case there is no question of the decisive criterion of 
suffering for the doctrine) is perhaps hardly any more to be found: 
a Christianity where the psychic states which Christianity pre- 
supposes are, as one says of a. disease, recognized by their symp- 
toms, the characteristic symptoms of an anguishing conflict of 
conscience, fear and trembling, and in addition to this the shock 
received from Christianity, profound and perilous, the apprehen- 
sion that Christianity is to the Jews a stumbling-block and to the 
Greeks foolishness also this kind of Christianity is hardly any 
more to be found or at least very seldom in our time, and in any 



2io JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

case there is no question here of suffering for the doctrine. It is 
hardly to be found, and how could it be in our time when the 
whole mode of life is calculated to prevent the mind from acquiring 
the contemplative inwardness which makes it possible for such 
psychic states to assume character? In our time (this is truth, 
and it is significant for the Christianity of our time), in our time 
it is the physician who exercises the cure of souls. People have 
perhaps an unfounded dread of calling in the parson, who, 
however, in our time would talk possibly pretty much like the 
physician. So they 'call in the physician. And he knows what 
to do: 'You must travel to a watering-place, and then must keep 
a riding-horse, for it is possible to ride away from bees in the 
bonnet, and then diversion, diversion, plenty of diversion, you 
must ensure yourself of having every evening a cheerful game of 
poker, 1 on the other hand you should not eat much in the evening 
directly before going to bed, and finally see that the bedroom 
is well aired this will surely help.* 'To relieve an anxious 
conscience?' *Bosh! Get out with that stuff! An anxious con- 
science! No such thing exists any more, it is a reminiscence of 
the childhood of the race. There is no enlightened and cultivated 
parson who would thiak of coming out with such a thing I mean 
to say, outside the Sunday service, which is a different matter. 
No, let us never begin here with an anxious conscience, for thus 
we might soon turn the whole house into a madhouse. I am so 
minded, that if I had in my employ a servant, however excellent in 
other respects, whom I should be loath to lose and should greatly 
miss if I observed that he or she was meddling with the ex- 
perience of an anxious conscience, I would give unconditional 
notice to quit my service. That would be the last thing I would 
tolerate in my house. If it were my own child, he would have to 
seek other quarters.' 'But, Doctor, this is an awfully anxious 
dread you have of a thing which you say does not exist, "an 
anxious conscience"; one might almost think that it is a revenge 
upon you for wanting to do away with anguish of conscience 
this anxious dread of yours is indeed like a revenge!' And the 
next kind of Christianity (where in any case there is no question of 
suffering for the doctrine) is found perhaps rather rarely: a 
quieter enjoyment of life, observing the requirements of civil 
righteousness, thinking withal often of God, so that the thought 
1 Literally, the Spanish game of 'ombre', which was still played in S. K/s time. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 211 

of Him is brought in a little along with other things; but with- 
out ever having experienced deeply the shock of collision with 
Christianity, without really observing that Christianity is to the 
Jew in me a stumbling-block and to the Greek in me is foolish- 
ness; and in any case there is no question of suffering for the 
doctrine. The common kind of Christianity is: a thoroughly 
worldly life, avoiding great crimes rather for prudence than for 
conscience' sake, artfully seeking life's pleasures and then once 
in a while a so-called pious mood. This is Christianity ... in the 
same sense that a bit of nausea and a slight belly-ache is cholera. 
*One may call it cholera any way.' Yes, one may perfectly well 
do so, and for the sake of precision one may call it Danish, or still 
more precisely Copenhagen, or still more precisely Christian- 
haven cholera and so one may also call this Christianity. That 
is to say, we off here on the mountain are agreed, or perhaps a 
single street is agreed, that this is Christianity and so it is 
Christianity. What wonder then that people have lost respect 
for Christianity and the taste for it. For Christianity may, falsely, 
be made so severe that human nature must revolt against it, 
rejecting it or repelling it. But it may also be made so lenient or 
so concocted with sweets that all the efforts that are made 
to stimulate the appetite and give men a taste for it by proofs and 
reasons are unavailing, and the thing must end with their being 
disgusted with it. No, there must be salt in the food. And verily 
that is provided for in the New Testament. The glad tidings are 
not to be palmed off upon men by means of proofs and reasons 
ignominiously, as when a mother must sit and beg the child to eat 
the wholesome and excellent food, while it turns up its nose at it and 
doesn't want to eat. No, the appetite is to be awakened in a differ- 
ent way and then one will indeed find the glad tidings savoury. 
To suffer for the doctrine. It is this which changes everything 
endlessly with respect to becoming or being a Christian, this 
which imposes endless weight. Or if Christ had preached that 
kind of Christianity which the parsons preach nowadays, how 
explain the concern He felt for the disciples and the concern they 
gave Him, those honest stout-hearted men who verily were willing 
enough to give up everything in order to take hold and hold fast? 
But here it was a question of 'following* in the strictest sense. 
Cfirist Himself knew that, humanly speaking, He must make 
these men as unhappy and miserable as a man can be, *of all men 



212 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES I 

most miserable 7 if they were to belong to Him. And not this 
only, but that He must require them to maintain nevertheless 
that it was an elect privilege accorded to them, a proof of God's 
exceeding and especial love towards them, Oh, horror! That 
this which should be glad tidings, comfort, joy that it is this 
which, humanly speaking, makes me of all men most miserable 
... a fate which I can easily avoid by having nothing to do with 
it! And that in addition to this the requirement is not merely 
that I shall bear this patiently, but that I shall find joy and blessed- 
ness in it as if one were to require of a man who must endure a 
bodily torment, not merely that he shall restrain himself from 
screaming, but that he shall so triumph over himself and the pain 
that in beholding him it would look as if it were a delight, though 
the experience was in reality terrible to him and not a clever 
deceit! Note therefore in Christ's speech with His disciples the 
thing that again and again was repeated: 'Be not offended in Me; 
doth this offend you ? blessed is he who shall not be offended in 
Me; these things I have told you beforehand that ye should not 
be offended; watch and pray, remember what I have said unto 
you, that when the hour is come ye may not be offended ! Ah, it 
is so narrow and so small a way, and I cannot help you directly. 
Oh, every moment offence lieth so near, the possibility of offence 
follows every step ! You may come to such a pass that patience is 
exhausted, faith shattered, and ye revolt against Me blessed 
is he who is not offended! And although ye patiently support 
every suffering in case your patience is only silent submission, 
at bottom ye are offended in Me blessed is he who is not 
offended in me. 1 Take a human relationship. Let a lover say to 
his beloved, *My dear girl, I give thee thy freedom, we must part; 
to belong to me would signify (as I can tell thee with certainty 
beforehand) that thou, humanly speaking, wouldst become as 
unhappy as possible/ Let us suppose that she replied, *I will 
endure everything, for only then am I unhappy when I am parted 
from thee/ 1 Let us go farther, let us suppose that he replied, 
'Very well, but I must require one thing more if thou art to 
remain with me, that thou must maintain that to be thus unhappy 
with me is nevertheless the highest happiness/ What then? 
Would not the girl be fully justified in saying, 'This is madness' ? 
Yes indeed, and if she will not say it, I will say in her behalf, 
1 Up to this point the passage reports exactly S. K.'s experience with Regina. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 2! , 

*If such a situation arises in th* relationship betv/een human 

beings, It is madness; :*nJ ? - Ad v;:sh for nc^liinp- better than co 
have leave to thra?K 1:^ - < ^. cv this, badness out of the auilty 

man./ For as there ar- " of possession which can only be 
driven out by prayer anti .- ,.;h tasting, cuere is also nvadness which 
is only incurred by one'* own guilt. But in the relationship be- 
tween the God-Man iiiid a human being the situation cw<iuf be 
other than this blessed is he who is not offended! 

To suffer for the doctrine. 'But there can be no question of 
that in these times when Christianity has fully triumphed and all 
are Christians. 5 I could be tempted to say, 'Woe, woe unto thee^ 
thou hypocrite!* But that I will not do. I* prefer to say, "My q-ood 
man ? you do not yourself believe what you; say, you know "very 
well that it is falsehood^ and why then suck talk., why would }0ti 
be like the man who stands in full view of everybody with a white 
stick in his mouth and believes he is invisible? 9 No, the require- 
ment of suffering for the doctrine is at this instant just as much 
in force and just as applicable as it was at the beginning. The 
thing is perfectly simple. Every man who carries out a true act of 
self-sacrifice will have to suffer for it. If this were not so, true 
self-denial would be an impossibility; for the self-denial which is 
rewarded in outward ways is not true self-denial So Governance 
takes loving care that if there is an honest man who would deny 
himself, this may accordingly become true self-denial. On the 
other hand, false self-denial is to be recognized in the fact that in 
the first instance it looks like self-denial,, but in another way it 
outwardly pays for itself, and so at bottom is shrewd calculation. 

Let us take an example of true self-deniallet it be Luther. 
He was sternly trained to be able to express that kind of piety 
which in the Middle Ages was honoured and esteemed under the 
name of self-denial and for this reason was therefore not true 
self-denial And it was precisely against this kind of piety Luther 
inveighed. Now it is possible to think that he had chosen to be, 
e.g., a highly placed clergyman in order to be rewarded in this 
way for his self-denial In such a .case it again would not have 
been true self-denial But honest Luther saw aright. He bore 
witness against what the age regarded as true self-denial, he cut 
himself off from the opportunity of profiting by it, perhaps Gover- 
nance also helped him in this respect and here we have true 
self-denial 



214 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

Let such an action take place before us so that we can see 
exactly how it goes. Thus there is a fairly honest man who feels 
impelled to bear witness in one way or another for truth against 
falsehood which is in power just because it is regarded as the 
truth. He himself understands that this is a danger, but he is 
willing to expose himself to it. And yet perhaps he has not 
understood himself entirely. On the other hand, he is entirely 
convinced of the truth of what he wants to bring out; he is con- 
vinced of it to such a degree that (oh, human heart!) he is in- 
voluntarily compelled to think that when it is heard it must 
triumph, must win men. So he speaks it out but strangely 
enough he encounters only opposition everywhere, in every way 
he reaps nothing but ingratitude, not only from those from whom 
he had expected it, but also from those for whose sake he had 
thought he ought to bear witness to truth just as, for example, 
Moses had his troubles not only with the Egyptians but also from 
the Jews for whose sake he had exposed himself to all the trials, 
and dangers. Now this man becomes troubled, the experience 
affects him deeply. So, naturally, he turns for succour thither 
where he is accustomed to seek it, with Governance. He recounts 
his distress. What will Governance say in reply? Loving and 
gentle as Governance always is, it replies, 'My little friend, this 
in fact is what thou didst desire, thou wouldst practice self- 
denial, canst thou deny that thou hast got what thou didst 
bargain for? Here precisely is thine opportunity to practice self- 
denial.' Let us suppose that he replies, 'Yes, that I understand, 
now I understand it, but to be frank, I did not quite understand 
it thus when I decided to act and began it. I feel as if the sea 
were becoming too high for me.' What will Governance answer? 
Loving and gentle as it always is, never cruel, it says, 'Yes, yes, 
my little friend, yet we shall help thee out of this again when thou 
has humbled thyself under it and learnt humility from this little 
lesson/ But something else might also come to pass. While 
Governance makes it clear to the struggler what the situation is, 
that it belongs precisely to true self-denial, he undergoes a trans- 
formation like the wonder of the child when it suddenly under- 
stands, like the blissful wonder of the loving maiden when that 
which she thought a witness against her being loved she suddenly 
understands as a witness for it so too he is lost in wonder. Tor', 
says he, 'that which I suffered, or that which pained me, was 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 215 

really the fact that in this opposition I saw the proof that I had 
done the thing badly. But now that thou, loving Governance, dost 
declare the situation to me and dost declare thyself for me ah, 
I desire only to remain apart from all in good understanding with 
thee/ 1 So here we have an example of true self-denial, which 
always involves suffering for the good one does. And as it held 
good i, 8 oo years ago, so it holds good this year and for 1,800 
years to come, that he who inaugurates in this world a good work 
of self-denial has to suffer for it. But the Christian who does not 
do this has in one way or another spared himself, shirked his 
duty, &c. So this he must admit. This I do. But I will neither 
prate nor dissemble in the pulpit; if I have not attained to suffer- 
ing for the doctrine, if I never attain it I admit that this is 
attributable to me and to my worldly shrewdness. Then, more- 
over (just as suspected characters have to report themselves to the 
police bureau), I have to report myself in the presence of Gover- 
nance concerning this irregularity in my standing as a Christian. 
Governance will still be willing to deal with me, sheer love and 
grace and compassion that it is; but it requires that I shall be 
honest with it, 

Christ is the Pattern, and to this corresponds imitation. There 
is only one true way of being a Christian to be a disciple. The 
'disciple* has this mark among others, that he suffers for the 
doctrine. Everyone who has not suffered for the doctrine has in 
one way or another been guilty of using his shrewdness to spare 
himself. That for this reason he might not dare to call himself a 
Christian, or that he shall not become blessed, is far from my 
meaning, God forbid that I should venture to say what would 
convict me worse than anybody else. But he has to make an 
admission. And in so far as he is one of those who have under- 
taken to preach Christianity, he has to consider that by sparing 
himself he has weakened the impression of Christianity, which 
has become less recognizable for others, and contributed to con- 
fuse the point of view for Christianity. For Christianity did not 
come into the world in such wise that it was worldly shrewdness 
and human whimper which meant to win many by abating the 
price that is progress in number but retrogression in truth. 
No, the unconditional (as everybody can understand) cannot come 

1 This account of the experience of 'a fairly honest man* is autobiographical in the 
strictest sense. S. K. has in mind his experience in the *afFair of the Corsair 1 . 



216 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

in by means of abating the price, for if there is abatement, it is not 
the unconditional. On the other hand, by abating the price the 
unconditional is extruded from the world, or (what amounts to 
the same thing) it so spreads out that it coincides with the con- 
ditional. 

To suffer for the doctrine, that Is done away with. One there- 
fore cannot defend the situation in 'Christendom' by saying, 
'There is much imperfection among us, naturally, many weak 
brethren, many whose Christianity is merely an approximation, 
even a weak approximation to Christianity, a lot of cockles amongst 
the wheat.' For then I may ask the speaker, 'Art thou then wheat ?' 
And at all events I dare to say that he who speaks thus is no more 
a true Christian than I am. Perhaps one will say, 'He is less/ 
That I will not say. What is the use of such petty human wrang- 
ling ? But I will say that he is not any more of a Christian, and 
that I will maintain stubbornly. But then it is confusing to talk 
in that way: 'there are many among us whose Christianity is 
merely an approximation' as if the man who talks thus, and in 
general the Christianity of ' Christen dom', were the true Chris- 
tianity. That I deny ; yet not as though I thought I was the true 
Christian in contrast with the others. No, as I have said in the 
book immediately preceding this, 'I belong to the average among 
us. 1 I say therefore also (I have indicated it in an earlier book) 
that my Christianity is not the true Christianity, it is an approxi- 
mation. Perhaps there are many in this case whose Christianity 
is an approximation. One ought, however, to be a little careful 
about this term 'approximation', so as not to extend it so far as to 
include him whose (shall we say?) Christianity is departure from 
Christianity. It is so easy to make a mistake when on passing 
a man along the road to the city one does not notice whether he is 
going to or from the city. 

By construing Christianity as doctrine the situation in Christen- 
dom has become sheer confusion, and the definition of what it is 
to be a Christian has been rendered almost unrecognizable. So 
Christ as Pattern must be brought to the fore, but not to inspire 
dread yet perhaps it is entirely superfluous to be anxious lest 
one nowadays might be able to alarm anybody with Christianity. 
But at all events not to inspire dread, that ought to be learnt 
from the experience of an earlier time. No, the Pattern must be 
brought to the fore, for the sake at least of creating some respect 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 217 

for Christianity, to get it made a little bit evident what it is to be 
a Christian, to get Christianity transferred from learned discus- 
sion and doubt and twaddle (the objective) into the subjective 
sphere, where it belongs, as surely as the Saviour of the world, our 
Lord Jesus Christ, brought no doctrine into the world and never 
lectured but as the 'Pattern* required imitation casting out s 
however, if possible, by His atonement all anxious dread from 
men's souls. 



If it is to be used. 

THE MORAL 

As loudly as here is indicated (I say 'indicated', for in 
fact I constantly tone down the note to the humble ad- 
mission), so loudly must the note be struck, if there is to 
be any seriousness and sense and character and truth in 
making a protest against the Established Church and 
wishing to reform it. 

In case now anyone among us dares to step out ethically 
in the role here indicated, appealing moreover as an in- 
dividual to a direct relationship with God, then I shall 
instantly (so it is I understand myself at this instant, but 
I cannot even know whether the next instant I may not 
be deprived even of the conditions for being able to do 
it, the next instant, perhaps while I am getting this pub- 
lished), 1 I shall instantly be at his service, by undertaking 
what before God I shall understand as my task. This task 
of mine will be to follow him, the Reformer, step by step, 
never budging from his side, to see if step by step he is in 
the true character of his role, is actually the Extraordinary. 
Should it appear that he is this, then my accompaniment 
will be nothing but bows and reverence before him, the 
Extraordinary and verily this I dare say of myself: in this 
generation he will not find anyone, not a single person, 
who knows how to bow Deeper before the Extraordinary, 
and this I did not learn in any court, no, higher up, in 
commerce with the ideals, where one learns to bow in- 
finitely low, lower than any master of ceremonies. But, 
but ... if he falls out of his role that very second I cast 

1 He did not publish it, and perhaps what held him back till it was too late was the 
consideration that at any instant 'the conditions might be denied him*, i.e. that the old 
Bishop might make the admission he required. 



CHRIST AS THE PATTERN 219 

myself upon him, and this I dare say of myself: there is no 
one in this generation who deals a surer blow than I, when 
that is^ my task, or when one falsely represents himself as 
the Extraordinary. This sure blow I learnt in commerce 
with the ideals, where one in deep humility learns to hate 
oneself, but because one had nevertheless the courage to 
venture to engage with them, one receives as a gift of grace 
the power to deal this blow. 

If on the contrary there is no one in this generation 
who ventures in the character of this role to assume the 
task of Reformer' -then (unless by that time the Estab- 
lished Church, instead of making admission of the truth 
that it, Christianity, is only a mildly modified approximation 
Christianly, will affirm that in a strict sense it is true to 
Christianity in accordance with the New Testament, and 
will thereby condemn and nullify itself), then let the 
Established Church be established and upheld; bungling 
efforts at reform are more pernicious than the most per- 
nicious establishment, because reformation is the highest 
thing, and hence bungling at it is the most pernicious thing 
of all. Grant that the Established Church has its faults, 
many of them, say what thou wilt if thou wilt not step 
forth in character as the true Reformer, then thou shalt 
hold thy tongue about reforming. Oh, of all character- 
lessness the most appalling! to want to contrive menda- 
ciously to look like a reformer, or to want to carry out a 
reform with a little partisanship, by balloting, &c. 

No, if there is no such man among us, let us stick to the 
Established Church; let us enter into ourselves, let each 
one for himself admit how far behind we are in Chris- 
tianity, but Thou, O my God, wilt preserve me from 
making things even worse by wanting mendaciously to 
carry out a reform. 

And let it be said as loudly as possible, and would that 



220 JUDGE FOR YOURSELVES! 

It might If possible be heard everywhere, and would to 
God that everywhere it Is heard It. might be heeded: The 
evil in our time is not the Established Church with its many 
faults; nOj the evil in our time is precisely this evil lust^ this 
jlirting with the mil to reform^ this hypocrisy of seeking 
escape from the consciousness of one's own Incapacity by 
the diversion of wishing to reform the Church, a thing 
which our time Is least of all capable of doing. When the 
Church needed a reformation, no one reported for the task 3 
there was no thronging to join the movement,, all fled back 3 
only one solitary man, the Reformer, was disciplined In all 
stillness with fear and trembling and much trial of tempta- 
tion to adventure in God's name the extraordinary task. 
Now it is a muddle, as if It were on a country dance-floor, 
with all this wanting to reform; this cannot be God's 
thought, but Is a swaggering device of man, and therefore 
Instead of fear and trembling and much trial of temptation,, 
there Is Hurrah! Bravo! acclamation, balloting, a spree, a 
racket and a false alarm. 



March 1855 

This book dates from the time when the old Bishop was still 
living. It is for this reason kept in remoteness [from practical 
questions of reform], both because I then understood thus my 
relation to the Established Church 3 a'nd because out of considera- 
tion for the old Bishop I also was inclined to understand my 
relation thus. 

Now I speak much more decisively^ more openly, more truly^ 
without meaning to imply by this that my previous way of speak- 
ing was untrue. 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 

An Address 

by 
S. KIERKEGAARD 



[Translated by David F. Swenson] 



Copenhagen 

1855 
[Preached May 18, 1851] 



DEDICATED 
TO THE MEMORY OF 

my deceased father 

MICHAEL PEDERSEN KIERKEGAARD 
formerly a hosier here in town. 

August, 1855 



PREFACE 

This address was delivered in the Church of the Citadel, on 
the 1 8th of May, 1851. The text is the first I have used. Later 
I have often brought it forward; now I again return to it. 

S. K. 
May 5, 1854. 



PRAYER 

OTHOU who art unchangeable, whom nothing changes ! Thou who art un- 
changeable in love, precisely for our welfare not submitting to any change: 
may we too will our welfare, submitting ourselves to the discipline of Thy 
unchangeableness, so that we may, in unconditional obedience, find our rest and 
remain at rest in Thy unchangeableness. Not art Thou like a man ; if he is to pre- 
serve only some degree of constancy he must not permit himself too much to be 
moved, nor by too many things. Thou on the contrary art moved, and moved in 
infinite love, by all things. Even that which we human beings call an insignificant 
trifle, and pass by unmoved, the need of a sparrow, even this moves Thee; and what 
we so often scarcely notice, a human sigh, this moves Thee, O Infinite Love ! But 
nothing changes' Thee, O Thou who art unchangeable ! O Thou who in infinite 
love dost submit to be moved, may this our prayer also move Thee to add Thy bless- 
ing, in order that there may be wrought such a change in him who prays as to bring 
him into conformity with Thy unchangeable will, Thou who art unchangeable 1 



TEXT 
The Epistle of James i : 1 7-2 1 

EVERY good gift and every perfect gift Is from above 
coming down from the Father of lights,, with whom 
can be no variation, neither shadow that is cast by 
turning. Of His own will He brought us forth by the word 
of truth s that we should be a kind of first-fruits of His 
creatures. Ye know this,, my beloved brethren. But let 
every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: 
for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. 
Wherefore putting away all filthiness and overflowing of 
wickedness, receive with meekness the implanted word 9 
which is able to save your souls, 

My hearer, you have listened to the reading of the text. How 
near at hand does it not seem now to turn our thoughts in the 
opposite direction, to the mutability of temporal and earthly 
things, to the changeableness' of men. How depressing and 
wearisome to the spirit that all things are corruptible, that men are 
changeable, you, my hearer, and I ! How sad that the change is 
so often for the worse ! Poor human consolation, but yet a con- 
solation, that there is still another change to which the changeable 
is subject, namely that it has an end! 

And yet, if we were to speak in this manner, especially in this 
spirit of dejection, and hence not in the spirit of an earnest 
consideration of corruptibility, of human inconstancy, then we 
would not only fail to keep close to the text, but would depart 
from it, aye, even alter it. For the text speaks of the opposite, of 
the unchangeableness of God. The spirit of the text is unmixed 
joy and gladness. The words of the Apostle, coming as it were 
from the lofty silences of the highest mountain peaks, are uplifted 
above the mutabilities of the earthly life; he speaks of the un- 
changeablensss of God, and of nothing else. He speaks of a 
'father of lights', who dwells above, with whom tnere is no 
variableness, not even the shadow of any change. He speaks of 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF 229 

'good and perfect gifts 5 that come to us from above, from this 
father, who as the father of lights* or light is Infinitely well 
equipped to make sure that what comes from Him really is a 
good and perfect gift; and as a father He has no other am&tion, 
nor any other thought s than invariably to send good and perfect, 
gifts. And therefore* my beloved brethren, let every man be 
'swift to hear'; not swift to listen to all sorts of loose talk, but 
swift to direct his attention upward s from whence comes invari- 
ably only good news. Let him be 'slow to speak' ; for our ordinary 
human talk, especially in relation to these things, and especially 
that which comes first over our lips, serves most frequently only 
to make the good and perfect gifts less good and perfect. Let 
him be 'slow to wrath'; lest when the gifts do not seem to us good 
.and perfect we become angry, and thus cause that which was good 
and perfect and intended for our welfare to become by our own 
fault ruinous to us this is what the wrath of man is able to 
accomplish^ and the 'wrath of man worketh not the righteousness 
of God". 'Wherefore put aside all filthiness and overflowing of 
wickedness 5 -as when we cleanse and decorate the house and 
bedeck our persons, festively awaiting the visit 5 that we may 
worthily receive the good and perfect gifts. 'And receive with 
meekness the implanted word 3 which is able to save your souls/ 
With meekness! In truth, were it not the Apostle speaking^ and 
did we not immediately obey the injunction to be *slow"to speak, 
slow to wrath*, we might well be tempted to say: This is a very 
strange mode of speech; are we then altogether fools, that we need 
an admonition to be meek in relation to one who desires only our 
welfare? it is as if it were meant to mock us, in this context to 
make use of the word *mgeknes$*. For suppose someone were 
about to strike me unjustly, and another stood by, and said 
admonishmgly: 'Try to endure this treatment with meekness 1 
that would be straightforward speech. But imagine the friendliest 
of beings, one who is love itself; he has selected a gift for me> and 
the gift is good and perfect, as love itself; he comes to me and 
proposes to bestow this gift upon me and then another man 
stands by and says admonishmgly: 'See that you accept this 
treatment meekly P And yet, so It is with us human beings A 
pagan,* and only a human being, the simple sage of antiquity, 
complains that whenever he proposed to take away from a man 
some folly or otlicry and so help him to a better insight, thus 



230 THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 

bestowing a benefit upon him, he had often experienced that the 
other became so angry that he even wished to bite him, as the 
simple sage said jestingly in earnest. Ah, and what has God not 
had to endure these six thousand years, what does He not endure 
from morning until "nigErfrom each of mankind's many millions 
for we are sometimes most wrath when He most intends our 
welfare. Indeed, if we men truly understood what conduces to our 
welfare, and in the deepest sense truly willed our own welfare, 
then there would be no need to admonish us to be meek in this 
connexion. But we human beings (and who has not verified this 
in his own experience) are in our relationship to God as children. 
And hence there is need of an admonition to be meek in con- 
nexion with our reception of the good and perfect so thoroughly 
is the Apostle convinced that all good and perfect gifts come from 
Him who is eternally unchangeable. 

Different viewpoints ! The merely human tendency (as pagan- 
ism indeed gives evidence) is to speak less about God, and to speak 
almost exclusively and with sadness about the mutability of 
human affairs. The Apostle, on the other hand, desires only and 
alone to speak of God's unchangeableness. Thus so far as the 
Apostle is concerned. For him the thought of God's ^unchange- 
ableness is one of pure and unmixed comfort, peace, joy, happi- 
ness. And this is indeed eternally true. But let us not forget that 
the Apostle's joy has its explanation in the fact that the Apostle 
is the Apostle, that he has already long since wholly vielded him- 
self in unconditional ofjedience to God's unchangeableness. He 
does not stand" at the beginning, but rattier at^the^end of the way, 
the narrow but good way which he had chosen in renunciation of 
everything, pursuing it invariably and without a backward look, 
hasting towards eternity with stronger and ever stronger strides. 
But we on the contrary, who are, still beginners, and" subject to 
discipline, for us the unchangeableness of God must have also 
another aspect; and if we forget this, we readily run in danger of 
taking the lofty serenity of the Apostle in vain. 

Let us then speak, if possible to the promotion both of a 
wholesome fear and of a genuine peace, of Thee, who art 
unchangeable, or about Thy unchangeableness. 

God is unchangeable. In His omnipotence He created this 
visible world and made Himself invisible. He clothed Himself 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 231 

in ^ the visible world as in a garment; He changes it as one who 
shifts a garment Himself unchanged. Thus in the world of 
sensible things. In the world of events He is present everywhere 
in every moment ; in a truer sense than we can say of the most 
watchful human justice that it is present everywhere, God is 
omnipresent, though never seen by any mortal; present every- 
where, in the least event as well as in the greatest, in that which 
can scarcely be called an event and in that which is the only event, 
in the death of a sparrow and in the birth of the Saviour of man- 
kind. In each moment every actuality is a possibility in His 
almighty hand; He holds all in readiness, in every instant pre- 
pared to change everything: the opinions of men, their judge- 
ments, human greatness and human abasement ; He changes all, 
Himself unchanged. When everything seems stable (for it is only 
in appearance that the external world is for a time unchanged, 
in reality it is always in flux) and in the overturn of all things. He 
remains equally unchanged; no change touches Him, not even 
the shadow of a change; in unaltered clearness He, the father of 
lights, remains eternally unchanged. In unaltered clearness 
aye, this is precisely why He is unchanged, because He is pure 
clearness, a clarity which betrays no trace of dimness, and which 
no dimness can come near. With us men it is not so. We are not 
in this manner clear, and precisely for this reason we are subject 
to change : now something becomes clearer in us, now something 
is dimmed, and we are changed; now changes take place about us, 
and the shadow of these changes glides over us to alter us ; now 
there falls upon us from the surroundings an altering light, while 
under all this we are again changed within ourselves. 

This thought is terrifying^ all fear and trembling. This aspect 
of it is in general perhaps less often emphasized ; we complain of 
men and their mutability, and of the mutability of all temporal 
things, but God is unchangeable, this is our consolation, an 
entirely comforting thought: so speaks even frivolity. Aye, God 
is in very truth unchangeable. 

But first and foremost, do you also have an understanding with 
God? *j5J^y OU earnestly consider and sincerely strive to under- 
stand and this is God's eternally unchangeable will for you as 
for every human being, that you should sincerely strive to attain 
this understanding what God's will for you may be ? Or do you 
live your life in such a fashion that this thought has never so 



* 3 2 THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 

much as entered your mind? How terrifying then that He is 
eternally unchangeable! For with this immutable will you must 
nevertheless some time, sooner or later, come into collision 
this immutable will, which desired that you should consider this 
because it desired your welfare; this immutable will, which cannot 
but crush you if you come into hostile collision with it, 

In the, aecoa^ place, you who have some degree of under- 
standing mtTG5(ly do you also have a good understanding with 
Him? Is your will unconditionally His will, your wishes, each 
one of them. His comrnandments, your thoughts, first and last, 
His thoughts ? If not, how terrifying that God is unchangeable, 
everlastingly, eternally, unchangeable! Consider but in this 
connexion what it means to be at odds with merely a human being, 
But perhaps you are the stronger, and console yourself with the 
thought that the other will doubtless be compelled to change his' 
attitude. But now if he happens to be the stronger well, per- 
haps you think to have more endurance. But suppose it is an 
entire contemporary generation with which you are at odds; and 
yet, in that case you will perhaps say to yourself: seventy years is 
no eternity. But when the will is that of one eternally unchange- 
able if you are at odds with this will it means an eternity : how 
terrifying! 

Imagine a wayfarer. He has been brought to a standstill at the 
foot of a mountain, tremendous, impassable. It is this mountain 
, . . no, it is not his destiny to cross it, but he has set his heart 
upon the crossing; for his wishes, his longings, his desires, his 
very soul, which has an easier mode of conveyance, are already 
on the other side; it only remains for him to follow. Imagine him 
coming to be seventy years old; but the mountain still stands 
there, unchanged, impassable. Let him become twice seventy 
years; but the mountain stands there unalterably blocking his way, 
unchanged, impassable. Under all this he undergoes changes, 
perhaps; he dies away from his longings, his wishes, his desires; 
he now scarcely recognizes himself. And so a new generation 
finds him, altered, sitting at the foot of the mountain, which still 
stands there, unchanged, impassable, Suppose it to have hap- 
pened a thousand years ago; the altered wayfarer is long since 
dead, and only a legend keeps his memory alive; it is the only 
thing that remains aye, and also the mountain, unchanged, 
impassable* And now think of Him who is eternally unchange- 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 233 

able, for whom a thousand years are but as one day ah, even this 
is too much to say, they are for Him as an instant, as If they did not 
even exist consider then, if you have in the most distant manner 
a will to walk a different path than that which He wills for you: 
how terrifying! 

True enough, if your will, if my will, if the will of all these 
many thousands happens to be not so entirely in harmony with 
God's will: things nevertheless take their course as best they 
may in the hurly-burly of the so-called actual world; it is as If 
God did not pay any attention. It is rather as if a just man if 
tKerie were such a mah'f contemplating this world, a world which, 
as the Scriptures say, is dominated by evil, must needs feel 
disheartened because God does not seem to make Himself felt. 
But do you believe on that account that God has undergone any 
change ? Or is the fact that God does not seem to make Himself 
felt any the less a terrifying fact, as long as it is nevertheless 
certain that He is eternally unchangeable? To me it does not 
seem so. Consider the matter, and then tell me which is the more 
terrible to contemplate: the picture of one who is infinitely the 
stronger, who grows tired of letting himself be mocked, and rises 
in his might to crush the refractory spirits- a sight terrible 
indeed, and so represented when we say that God is not mocked, 
pointing to the times when His annihilating punishments were 
visited upon the human race but is this really the most terri- 
fying sight? Is not this other sight still more terrifying: one 
infinitely powerful, who eternally unchanged! sits quite still 
and sees everything, without altering a feature, almost as if He 
did not exist; while all the time, as the just man must needs 
complain, lies achieve success and win to power, violence and 
wrong gain the victory, to such an extent as even to tempt a better 
man to think that if he hopes to accomplish anything for the good 
he must in part use the same means; so that it is as If God were 
being mocked, God the infinitely powerful, the eternally un- 
changeable, who none the less is neither mocked nor changed 
is not this the most terrifying sight ? For why, do you think, is He 
so quiet? Because He knows with Himself that He is eternally 
unchangeable. Anyone not eternally sure of Himself could not 
keeg so ^till, bu! 1 'Woul3*>Tse l "in >l His strength. Only one who is 
eternally Immutable can be in this manner so still. 

He gives men time, and He can afford to give them time, since 



234 THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 

He has eternity and is eternally unchangeable. He gives time, 
and that with premeditation. And then there comes an accounting 
jn eternity, where nothing is forgotten, not even a single one of 
the improper words that were spoken; and He is eternally un- 
changed. And yet, it may be also an expression for His mercy 
that men are thus afforded time, time for conversion and better- 
ment. But how fearful if the time is not used for this purpose! 
For in that case the folly and frivolity in us would rather have 
Him straightway ready with His punishment, instead of thus 
giving men time, seeming to take no cognizance of the wrong, 
and yet remaining eternally unchanged. Ask one experienced in 
bringing up children and in relation to God we are all more or 
less as children ; ask one who has had to do with transgressors 
and each one of us has at least once in his life gone astray, and goes 
astray for a longer or a shorter time, at longer or shorter intervals: 
you will find Him ready to confirm the observation that for the 
frivolous it is a great help, or rather, that it is a preventive of 
frivolity (and who dares wholly acquit himself of frivolity !) when 
the punishment follows if possible instantly upon the transgres- 
sion, so that the memory of the frivolous may acquire the habit of 
associating the punishment immediately with the guilt. Indeed, 
if transgression and punishment were so bound up with one an- 
other that, as in a double-barrelled shooting weapon, the pressure 
on a spring caused the punishment to follow instantly upon the 
seizure of the forbidden fruit, or immediately upon the commit- 
ment of the transgression then I think that frivolity might take 
heed. But the longer the interval between guilt and punishment 
(which when truly understood is an expression for the gravity 
of the case) the greater the temptation to frivolity; as if the whole 
might perhaps be forgotten, or as if justice itself might alter and 
acquire different ideas with the passage of time, or as if at least 
it would be so long since the wrong was committed that it will 
become impossible to make an unaltered presentation of it before 
the bar of justice. Thus frivolity changes, and by no means for 
the better. It comes to feel itself secure ; and when it has become 
secure it becomes more daring ; and so the years pass, punishment 
is withfeeldjlorgetfiiln^ess 'Intervenes, and again the punishment 
is withheld, but new transgressions do not fail, and the old evil 
becomes still more malignant. And then finally all is over; death 
rolls down the curtain and to all this (it was only frivolity I) there 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOD 235 

was an eternally unchangeable witness : is this also frivolity ? One 
eternally unchangeable, and it is with this witness that you must 
make your reckoning. In the instant that the minute-hand of time 
showed seventy years, and the man died, during all that time the 
clock qfjJternityJias scarcely moved perceptibly: to such a degree 
iseverything present for the eternal, and for Him who is un- 
changeable. 

And therefore, whoever you may be, take time to consider 
what I say to myself, that for God there is nothing significant and 
nothing insignificant, that in a certain sense the significant is for 
Him insignificant, and in another sense even the least significant 
is for Him infinitely significant. If then your will is not in 
harmony with His will, consider that you will never be able to 
evade Him. Be grateful to Him if through the use of mildness 
or of severity He teaches you to bring your will into agreement 
with His -how fearful if He makes no move to arrest your course, 
how fearful if in the case of any human being it comes to pass that 
He almost defiantly relies either upon the notion that God does 
not exist, or upon His having been changed, or even upon His 
being too great to take note of what we call trifles,! For the truth 
is that God both exists and is eternally unchangeable ; and His 
infinite greatness consists precisely in seeingjsyen the least 
thing, and remembering even the least thing. Aye, and if you do 
not will as'He* wills^ m^ ?LSP 

eternity! ""' 

There is thus sheer fear and trembling, for us frivolous and 
inconstant human beings, in this thought of God's unchangeable- 
ness. Oh, consider it well! Whether God makes Himself im- 
mediately felt or not, He is eternally unchangeable. He is 
eternally unchangeable, consider this, if as we say you have any 
matter outstanding with Him; He is unchangeable. You have 
perhaps promised Him something, obligated yourself in a sacred 
pledge . . TbSTn'tEe course offline ymlliave undergone a change, 
and now you rarely think of God now that you have grown older, 
have you perhaps found more important things to think about? 
Or perhaps you now have different notions about God, and think 
that He does not concern Himself with the trifles of your life, 
regarding such beliefs as childishness. In any case you have just 
about forgotten what you promised Him; and thereupon you 
have proceeded to forget that you promised Him anything; and 



236 UNCHANGEABLENRSS OF GOD 

finally, you have forgotten, forgotten ay ejjhrgattfiojthal He 
fojB^^Qffithix\g>.-since He is eternally unchangeable, forgotten 

that it is precisely the inverted childishness of mature years to 
imagine that anything is insignificant for God, or that God forgets 
anything, He who is eternally unchangeable! 

In human relationships we so often complain of inconstancy, 
one party accuses the other of having changed. But even in the 
relationship between man and marij it is sometimes the case that 
the constancy of one party may come to seem like a tormenting 
affliction for the other, A man may, for example, have talked to 
another person about himself. What he said may have been 
merely a little childish, pardonably so. But perhaps, too, the 
matter was more serious than this; the poor foolish vain heart was 
tempted to speak in lofty tones of its enthusiasm, of the constancy 
of its feelings, and of its purposes in this -world. The other man 
listened calmly; he did not even smile, or interrupt the speech; 
he let him speak on to the end, listened and kept silence; only 
he promised, as he was asked to do, not to forget what had been 
said. Then some time elapsed, and the first man had long since 
forgotten all this; only the other had not forgotten. Aye, let us 
suppose something still stranger : he had permitted himself to be 
moved inwardly by the thoughts that the first man had expressed 
under the influence of his mood, when he poured out, so to speak, 
his momentary feeling; he had in sincere endeavour shaped his 
life In accordance with these ideas. What torment in this un- 
changed remembrance by one who showed only too clearly that 
he had retained in his memory every last detail of what had been 
said in that moment! 

And now consider Him, who is eternally unchangeable and 
this human heart ! O this human heart, what is not hidden in your 
secret recesses, unknown to others and that is the least of it 
but sometimes almost unknown to the individual himself! When 
a mgn, has lived a few years it is almost as if it wem.a burial-plot, 
this human heart ! There t&ey Tie buried in forgetfulness, promises, 
intentions, resolutions, entire, plans and Iragments^of plan!T~ana 
God knows what aye, so say we men, for ^rarelj jfchink about 
what we say ^ we sayufrere lies God knows^jiT"^^ say 

half in a spirit of frivolity, an3 half weary of life and it is so fear- 
fully true that God does know what to the last detail, knows what 
you have forgotten, knows what for your recollection has suffered 



THE UNCHANGEABLENESS OF GOB 257 

alteration, knows it all unchanged. He does not remember it 
merely as having happened some time ago, nay s He remembers it 
as If it were to-day, He knows whether^ in connexion with any of 
these wishes, intentions, re