What do I want?
March 1855. S. Kierkegaard.
Quite simply: I want honesty. I am not, as well-intentioned people represent 20 (for I can pay no attention to the interpretations of me that are advanced by exasperation and rage and impotence and twaddle), I am not a Christian severity as opposed to a Christian leniency.
By no means. I am neither leniency nor severity: I am...a human honesty.
The leniency which is the common Christianity in the land I want to place alongside of the New Testament in order to see how these two are related to one another.
Then, if it appears, if I or another can prove, that it can be maintained face to face with the New Testament, then with the greatest joy I will agree to it.
But one thing I will not do, not for anything in the world. I will not by suppression, or by performing tricks, try to produce the impression that the ordinary Christianity in the land and the Christianity of the New Testament are alike.
Behold, this it is I do not want. And why not? Well, because I want honesty. Or, if you wish me to talk in another way — well then, it is because I believe that, if possibly even the very extremest softening down of Christianity may hold good in the judgment of eternity, it is impossible that it should hold good when even artful tricks are employed to gloss over the difference between the Christianity of the New Testament and this softened form. What I mean is this: If a man is known for his graciousness — very well then, let me venture to ask him to forgive me all my debt; but even though his grace were divine grace, this is too much to ask, if I will not even be truthful about how great the debt is.
And this in my opinion is the falsification of which official Christianity is guilty: it does not frankly and unreservedly make known the Christian requirement — perhaps because it is afraid people would shudder to see at what a distance from it we are living, without being able to claim that in the remotest way our life might be called an effort21 in the direction of fulfilling the requirement. Or (merely to take one example of what is everywhere present in the New Testament): when Christ requires us to save our life eternally (and that surely is what we propose to attain as Christians) and to hate our own life in this world, is there then a single one among us whose life in the remotest degree could be called even the weakest effort in this direction? And perhaps there are thousands of "Christians" in the land who are not so much as aware of this requirement. So then we "Christians" are living, and are loving our life, just in the ordinary human sense. If then by "grace" God will nevertheless regard us as Christians, one thing at least must be required: that we, being precisely aware of the requirement, have a true conception of how infinitely great is the grace that is showed us. "Grace" cannot possibly stretch so far, one thing it must never be used for, it must never be used to suppress or to diminish the requirement; for in that case "grace" would turn Christianity upside down. — Or, to take an example of another kind: A teacher is paid, let us say, several thousand. If then we suppress the Christian standard and apply the ordinary human rule, that it is a matter of course a man should receive a wage for his labor, a wage sufficient to support a family, and a considerable wage to enable him to enjoy the consideration due to a government official — then a few thousand a year is certainly not much. On the other hand, as soon as the Christian requirement of poverty is brought to bear, family is a luxury, and several thousand is very high pay. I do not say this in order to deprive such an official of a single shilling, if I were able to; on the contrary, if he desired it, and I were able, he might well have double as many thousands: but I say that the suppression of the Christian requirement changes the point of view for all his wages. Honesty to Christianity demands that one call to mind the Christian requirement of poverty, which is not a capricious whim of Christianity, but is because only in poverty can it be truly served, and the more thousands a teacher of Christianity has by way of wages, the less he can serve Christianity. On the other hand, it is not honest to suppress the requirement or to perform artful tricks to produce the impression that this sort of business career is simply the Christianity of the New Testament. No — let us take money, but for God's sake not the next thing: let us not wish to gloss over the Christian requirement, so that by suppression or by falsification we may bring about an appearance of decorum which is in the very highest degree demoralizing and is a sly death-blow to Christianity.
Therefore I want honesty; but till now the Established Church has not been willing of its own accord to go in for that sort of honesty, and neither has it been willing to let itself be influenced by me. That does not make me, however, a leniency or a severity; no, I am and remain quite simply a human honesty.
Let me go to the utmost extreme in order, if possible, to make people understand what I want.
I want honesty. If that is what the human race or this generation wants, if it will honorably, honestly, openly, frankly, directly rebel against Christianity, if it will say to God, "We can but we will not subject ourselves to this power" — but note that this must be done honorably, honestly, openly, frankly, directly — very well then, strange as it may seem, I am with them; for honesty is what I want, and wherever there is honesty I can take part. An honest rebellion against Christianity can only be made when a man honestly confesses what Christianity is, and how he himself is related to it.
If this is what they want, if they are honest, open, candid, as it is seemly for a man to be when he talks with his God, which therefore everyone is if he respects himself and does not so deeply despise himself that he would be insincere in the face of God — well then, if we honestly, candidly, frankly, completely admit to God how it really stands with us men, that the human race in the course of time has taken the liberty of softening and softening Christianity until at last we have contrived to make it exactly the opposite of what it is in the New Testament — and that now, if the thing is possible, we should be so much pleased if this might be Christianity. If that is what they want, then I am with them.
But one thing I will not do; no, not for anything in the world: I will not, though it were merely with the last quarter of the last joint of my little finger, I will not take part in what is known as official Christianity, which by suppression and by artifice gives the impression of being the Christianity of the New Testament; and upon my kneesI thank my God that He has compassionately prevented me from becoming too far embroiled in it.22
If then official Christianity in this country takes occasion from what is said here to employ power against me, I am ready; for I want honesty.
For this honesty I am ready to take the risk. On the other hand, I do not say that it is for Christianity I take the risk. Just suppose the case, suppose that quite literally I were to become a sacrifice: I would not even in that case be a sacrifice for Christianity, but because I wanted honesty.
But although I dare not say that I make a venture for the sake of Christianity, I am fully and blessedly convinced that this venture of mine is well-pleasing to God, has His consent. Yea, this I know, that it has His consent that in a world of Christians, where millions upon millions call themselves Christians, there is one man who says, "I dare not call myself a Christian, but I want honesty, and I will venture unto the end."
Translator's Footnotes
20Referring to Prof. Nielsen's defense of him which was noticed in Article IV.
21To explain once for all S. K.'s satirical references to the claim that one was "endeavoring" to be a Christian, I point to the passage about a North Pole expedition which may be read in my Kierkegaard, p. 546.
22S. K. was a candidate in theology, and naturally he was several times on the point of taking the next step of seeking a cure, which would have led to his ordination as a priest.