My task
September 1, 1955
"I do not call myself a Christian, do not say myself that I am a Christian." It is this I must constantly reiterate, and which everyone who would understand my quite peculiar task must train himself to be able to understand.
Yes, I know it well enough, it sounds almost like a sort of madness, in this Christian world where all and everybody is Christian, where to be a Christian is something therefore which everyone is as a matter of course — that there, in this Christian world, one says of oneself, "I do not call myself a Christian," and especially one whom Christianity concerns to the degree that it concerns me.
But it cannot be otherwise; in the world's twaddle the truer view must always seem like a sort of madness. And that it is a world of twaddle in which we live, that incidentally it is precisely by reason of this twaddle that everybody is a Christian in a sense, is certain enough.
Nevertheless I neither can alter my statement nor do I dare to — otherwise there would come about also perhaps another alteration, that the Power, it is an omnipotent Power, which in a singular way makes use of my impotence, might take its hand off me and let me sail on my own sea. No, I am neither willing to alter my statement, nor do I dare to; I cannot be of service to the legions of knavish tradesmen, I mean the priests, who by falsifying the definition of Christianity for the sake of business profits have acquired millions and millions of Christians: I am not a Christian — and unfortunately I am able to make it evident that the others are not either, yea, even less than I. For they imagine that they are Christians, or they claim it mendaciously, or (like the priests) they make others believe it, so that thereby the priests' business becomes flourishing.
The point of view which I have to indicate again and again is of such a singular sort that in the eighteen hundred years of "Christendom" I have nothing to hold on to, nothing that is analogous, nothing that corresponds to it. So also in this respect, with regard to the eighteen hundred years, I stand literally alone.*
The only analogy I have before me is Socrates. My task is a Socratic task, to revise the definition of what it is to be a Christian. For my part I do not call myself a "Christian" (thus keeping the ideal free), but I am able to make it evident that the others are that still less than I.
Thou noble simpleton of olden times, thou, the only man I admiringly recognize as teacher; there is but little concerning thee that has been preserved, thou amongst men the only true martyr to intellectuality, just as great qua character as qua thinker; but this little, how infinitely much it is! How I long, afar from these battalions of thinkers which "Christendom" puts into the field under the name of Christian thinkers (for after all, apart from them, there have in the course of the centuries lived in "Christendom" several quite individual teachers of real significance) — how I long, if only for half an hour, to be able to talk with thee!
It is in an abyss of sophistry Christianity is lying — far, far worse than when the Sophists flourished in Greece. These legions of priests and Christian docents are all Sophists, living (as was said of the Sophists of old)70 by making those who understand nothing believe something, then treating this human-numerical factor as the criterion of what truth, what Christianity is.
But I do not call myself a "Christian." That this is highly embarrassing to the Sophists, I understand very well, I understand very well that they would much prefer that with kettledrums and trumpets I should proclaim myself the only true Christian, I understand very well too that they seek, untruly, to represent my course of action in this way. But one does not dupe rhe! In a certain sense I am very easily duped; I have been duped in almost every relationship into which I have entered — but then that was because I myself willed it. When I do not will it, there is in my generation no one who dupes me — a consummate detective talent such as I.
So then they do not dupe me: I do not call myself a "Christian." In a certain sense then it seems easy enough to get rid of me; for in fact the others are all of them men of a very different kidney, they are all true Christians. Yes, yes, so it seems; but it is not so. For just because I do not call myself a Christian it is impossible to get rid of me, possessing as I do the confounded quality of being able, precisely by the aid of not calling myself a "Christian," to make it evident that the others are still less Christians.
O Socrates, if with kettledrums and trumpets thou hadst proclaimed thyself the most knowing man, the Sophists would soon have had the better of thee. No, thou wast the ignorant man; but thou didst possess at the same time the confounded quality of being able, precisely by the aid of the fact that thou thyself wast ignorant, to make it evident that the others knew still less than thou, did not even know that they were ignorant.
But as it befell thee (according to what thou sayest in thy "Defense,"71 as ironically enough thou hast called the crudest satire upon any generation), that thou didst bring down upon thee many enemies by making it evident that they were ignorant; and as they imputed to thee the inference that thou thyself must be what thou wert able to show the others were not, they therefore out of envy conceived a grudge against thee; so it has also befallen me. It has exasperated men against me that I am able to make it evident that the others are Christians still less than I am, who yet am so very diffident about my relation to Christianity that I truly see and admit that I am not a Christian. And they would impute to me the inference that this affirmation that I am not a Christian is only a hidden form of pride, that I surely must be what I am able to prove the others are not. But this is a misunderstanding: it is entirely true that I am not a Christian; and it is an overhasty conclusion that because I can show that the others are not Christians, therefore I myself must be one — just as overhasty as it would be to conclude, for example, from the fact that a man is a foot higher than another, ergo he must be six yards high.
My task is to revise the definition of a Christian. There is only one man living who is competent to furnish a real criticism of my work — that is I myself. There was some truth in what was said to me a good many years ago by Dean Hoefod-Hansen, as he now is, apropos of the intention he had had of writing a review of the Concluding Postscript. He said that on reading the review that book contained of the earlier literary work, he gave up the thought of writing a review in an instance where the author was the only person capable of furnishing a real criticism of my work. The only man who occasionally has said a fairly true word about my significance is Professor R. Nielsen; but it is true perception he got from private conversation with me.
When now such competent judges as, for example, Messrs. Israel Levine,72 Davidsen, Siesby, or such unbefuddled thinkers as Grime, or such frank and open characters as the anonymous writers and the like, before so illegitimate a tribunal also as the public, pass judgment upon a work so singular, it naturally will come to — well, just what it has come to, a thing which pains me for the sake of this little nation, which by such a sight is made ridiculous qua nation.
But even if one man or another somewhat more competent undertakes to say something about my taste, it comes to nothing more than that after a fleeting glance at my situation the author finds in a trice some earlier instance or another which corresponds to it, as he declares.
In that way it comes to nothing just the same. That upon which a man with my leisure, my diligence, my talents, my culture (for which Bishop Mynster in fact has given me a certificate in print73) has spent not merely fourteen years but essentially his whole life — that then some priest or another, at the most a professor, should not need more than a fleeting glance in order to be able to appraise it, is of course a piece of foolishness. And that what is singular to such a degree that at once it was branded, "The individual — I am not a Christian," a thing which quite certainly has not occurred in the eighteen hundred years of Christendom, where everything is branded, "Congregation, society — I am a true Christian" — that then some priest or another, at the most a professor, should at once find an analogy to it, is also a piece of foolishness. Upon more careful inspection one would find that it is precisely an impossibility. But this one does not think worth while; one prefers a fleeting glance at my situation, and then an equally fleeting glance at the earlier one, and with that one has immediately analogies enough for minc.as the public is well able to understand.
Nevertheless it is as I say: in the eighteen hundred years of "Christendom" there is absolutely nothing corresponding to my task, nothing analogous to it; it is the first time in "Christendom."
That I know, and I know too what it has cost, what I have suffered, which can be expressed however in a single word: I was never like others. Oh, in the days of youth it is of all torments the most frightful, the most intense, not to be like others, never to live a single day without being painfully reminded that one is not like others, never to be able to run with the herd, which is the delight and the joy of youth, never to be able to give oneself out expansively, always, so soon as one would make the venture, to be reminded of the fetters, the isolating peculiarity which, isolatingly to the border of despair, separates one from everything which is called human life and merriment and joy. True, one can by a frightful effort strive to hide what at that age one understands as one's dishonor, that one is not like the others; to a certain degree this may succeed, but all the same the agony is still in the heart, and after all it succeeds only to a certain degree, so that a single incautious movement may revenge itself frightfully.
With the years, it is true, this pain diminishes more and more; for as more and more one becomes spirit, it causes no pain that one is not like others. Spirit precisely is this: not to be like others.
And so at last there comes the instant when the Power which once did thus — yea, so it seems sometimes — ill-treat one, transfigures itself and says, "Hast thou anything to complain of? Does it seem to thee that in comparison with what is done for other men I have been partial and unjust? Though — out of love — I have embittered for thee thy childhood and both thine earlier and later youth, does it seem to thee that I have duped thee by what thou didst get instead?" And to this there can only remain the answer, "No, no, Thou infinite Love" — though nevertheless the human crowd doubtless would emphatically decline with thanks to be what I have become in such an agonizing way.
For by such torture as mine a man is trained to endure to be a sacrifice; and the infinite grace which was shown and is shown to me is that I should be selected to be a sacrifice, selected to this end, and then one thing more, that I should be developed under the combined influence of omnipotence and love to be able to hold fast the truth that this is the highest degree of grace the God of love can show towards anyone, and therefore shows only to His loved ones.
My dear reader, thou dost see that this does not promptly lead to profit. That will be the case only after my death, when the sworn teachers or tradesmen will appropriate my life too for salting down in the brine tubs.
Christianity is situated so high that what it understands by grace is what the profane (Procul, o procul este profani74) would of all things most heartily decline with thanks. False priests, or priests pure and simple, manage to transform grace into indulgence. According to them, grace consists in the fact that man, quite bluntly, has profit out of God, and the priests have profit out of men whom they make to believe this, inviting them with Christ's own words, "Come hither all" — the true significance of which words is, that the invitation is undeniably for all, but that this, when it comes to the pinch and it has to be determined to what it is Christ invites men (by imitation to become a sacrifice), and when this is not turned into something agreeable to all, then it will result, as in the age of Christ, that all most heartily decline with thanks, and that only quite exceptionally a single individual follows the invitation, and of these individuals in turn only a very singular individual follows the invitation in such a way that he holds fast to the truth that this is an infinite, an indescribable grace which is shown him...to be sacrificed. An indescribable grace; for it is the only way in which God can love a man and be loved by a man; but indeed it is an infinite grace that God wills to do this and wills to permit it. So a fig for the fact that, for prudential reasons, in order to put at a distance every profane consideration, an intermediate qualification is introduced, that of being sacrificed. And then too it would be almost loathsome, stifling, nauseating, suffocating, if this thing of being loved by God and loving Him were to be stupidly, bestially, encumbered by the thought that one had profit out of it.
Thou plain man! The Christianity of the New Testament is infinitely high; but observe that it is not high in such a sense that it has to do with the difference between man and man with respect to intellectual capacity, etc. No, it is for all. Everyone, absolutely everyone, if he absolutely wills it, if he will absolutely hate himself, will absolutely put up with everything, suffer everything (and this every man can if he will) — then is this infinite height attainable to him.
Thou plain man! I have not separated my life from thine; thou knowest it, I have lived in the street, am known to all; moreover I have not attained to any importance, do not belong to any class egoism, so if I belong anywhere, I must belong to thee, thou plain man, thou who once (when one profiting by thy money pretended to wish thee well75), thou who once wast too willing to find me and my existence ludicrous, thou who least of all hast reason to be impatient or ungrateful for the fact that I am of your company, for which the superior people rather have reason, seeing that I have never definitely united with. them but merely maintained a looser relationship.
Thou plain man! I do not conceal from thee the fact that, according to my notion, the thing of being a Christian is infinitely high, that at no time are there more than a few who attain it, as Christ's own life attests, if one considers the generation in which He lived, and as also His preaching indicates, if one takes it literally. Yet nevertheless it is possible for all. But one thing I adjure thee, for the sake of God in heaven and all that is holy, shun the priests, shun them, those abominable men whose livelihood it is to prevent thee from so much as becoming aware of what Christianity is, and who thereby would transform thee, befuddled by galimatias and optical illusion, into what they understand by a true Christian, a paid member of the State Church, or the National Church,76 or whatever they prefer to call it. Shun them. But take heed to pay them willingly and promptly what money they should have. With those whom one despises, one on no account should have money differences, lest it might perhaps be said that it was to get out of paying them one avoided them. No, pay them double, in order that thy disagreement with them may be thoroughly clear: that what concerns them does not concern thee at all, namely, money; and on the contrary, that what does not concern them concerns thee infinitely, namely, Christianity.
Kierkegaard's Footnotes
*Note. Inasmuch as I have made a critical comment69 upon "the Apostle," the following is to be noted. (1). I am entirely within my rights, for the Apostle is only a man. And my task requires that it must be followed out to the extreme. If in the teaching of the Apostle there is found even in the least degree anything that can be related to what in the course of the centuries has become the sophistic which consumes all true Christianity, I must raise an outcry, lest the Sophists at once appeal to the Aposde. (2). It is of great importance, especially for Protestantism, to straighten out the prodigious confusion Luther has brought about by inverting the relationship, and in effect criticizing Christ by Paul, the Master by the disciple. I on the other hand have not criticized the Apostle, as though I were something, I who am not even a Christian. What I have done is to hold up Christ's preaching alongside of the preaching of the Apostle. (3). One thing it is to be able intellectually to make a true observation, it is something else to want to belittle, to weaken, the Apostle, from which certainly I am as remote as anybody.
Translator's Footnotes
69Cf. The Instant, No. V, Article 2; and No. VII, Article 5. S. K. has been charged by his adversaries with inconsistency in thus belittling -the Apostle. It was a shrewd criticism, and this long note is not an adequate answer to it. For no one had ever exalted more highly than he the idea of what it was to be an Apostle of Jesus Christ. "1 always keep," says he, "a separate account for the Apostle." Reproaching Luther for discarding the word of the Apostle James, "Faith without works is dead," he exclaimed, "and think what a high conception he had of an Apostle!" This could now be retorted upon him. In the heat of controversy he had been tempted to sacrifice the Apostle to "the witness to the truth." And this points to a fundamental flaw in his contention. But, all appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, it never was S. K.'s intention to affirm that only martyrs (i.e. witnesses to the truth) can be saved, or that the true Church is composed solely of martyrs. The martyrs were held in singular honor because there were few of them. And it was not the Apostles only who believed that men might be saved without being dead sacrifices, or even "living sacrifices." Christ himself, as in the case of the rich young man, was comforted by the thought that "with God all things are possible." The Apostle was the only objective authority S. K. recognized, his only objective link with Catholicism, indeed with the Church as a community of faith. This note shows how loath he was to reject this saving link — but also how much he was tempted to reject it, though with that he would have been left to unbridled subjectivity.
70By Plato in Gorgias, cap. 19; and Aristotle, On the Sophists' Proofs, cap. 1.
71Plato's Apology.
72Aaron Levin, who for some years was S. K.'s secretary, gained notoriety by publishing revelations of S. K.'s private life, which were neither sensational nor reliable. S. K. needed a secretary to transcribe his pseudonymous works, for so scrupulous was he in preserving his anonymity that he would not send to the printer a manuscript in his own handwriting. Davidsen and Siesby were editors of the Flyve-Post, in which S. K. was violently attacked. Grüne was editor of the Copenhagen Post, and was equally zealous in his opposition. He was notorious for his talent for holding two apparently opposite points of view at the same time.
73In Heiberg's Intelligensblade, Nos. 41-42, he spoke of his "rich culture."
74A Virgilian line: "Hence! keep far away, ye uninitiated!" Aeneid, vi, 258.
75Aaron Goldschmidt, when he ridiculed him in the Corsair. S. K. was not fortunate with his Jewish friends — but it was not them only he thought of when he said, "I have been hoaxed in every relationship I entered into."
76"National Church" is what Grundtvig preferred to call it.