I don't resort to a bookmark when I read Kierkagaard. Each time I begin to grapple with "Fear and Trembling" anew, I make a rough guess about the page last read, at which I had been interrupted by the telephone, or summoned to dinner, or fallen asleep. If the text seems familiar, I skip forward to a paragraph that escaped my memory; otherwise, I leaf backward until the familiarity of a phrase or a sentence jogs my memory. But not infrequently when I am reading a passage that seems entirely unfamiliar, I encounter a sentence that I am certain I have read before; and I cannot escape the conclusion that much of what I have read I have already forgotten, or worse, that it left no impression on me.
I preface my comments on Fear and Tembling with this disclaimer; knowing that there may be much that I have understood only partially, much that I have not understood at all, and much that I have already forgotten. It is a relief not to have to answer any examination questions on the book.
The legend of Abraham and Isaac impresses me in a slightly different manner each time I return to it. Perhaps the most important conclusion about Kierkegaards account is that it brings me closer to the story of Abraham of Isaac than I have ever been before. Surely Kierkegaard is correct when he critcises conventioal sermons which deal with Abrahams temptation as an everyday affair, requiring no further meditation. I would not be so rash as to contradict Kierkegaards assertion that Abraham's temptation to sacrifice Isaac is a paradox, an absurdity which which Abraham accepted, and which Christians as Abraham's spiritual heirs must accept by faith.
Many facets of our existence reflect absurdity when viewed in a certain light. Each of these facets of absurdity requires to be validated by faith. But why should not the absurdity be made manifest? Why should the requirement of faith be proclaimed as eloquently and as forcefully as possible?
Although the postulate of absurdity may serve as a conclusion to the investigation, it ought not stand at its beginning, lest it deny our intelligence access to many related issues with broad raminfications.
When I read the account of Isaac burdened with the wood on which he was to be sacrificed, I thought of Jesus carrying his cross to _his_ sacrifice on Golgatha. It is not necessary to attribute divinity to Abraham to note the analogy between the sacrifices of Isaac and of Jesus.
Kierkegaard contrasts starkly between the faithful and the faithless interpretation of Abrahams temptation, that in the absence of faith what Abraham contemplated was murder. I think, however, that the scene is far more complicated. Homicide may be murder; but it may also be suicide, and where the love if Abraham for Isaac was strong enough, the sacrifice of Isaac would have meant the sacrifice of Abraham himself; all the more poignant by Abraham's survival who would, as it were, live to suffer the pains of his death.
I don't know what would prevent a more inward interpretation than Kierkegaards. For the deity which summoned Abraham to the summit of Mount Moriah was a voice; and the deity that stayed the knife in Abrahams outstretched arm was also a voice. Who is to say whether the voice was from without or from within. Furthermore, if deity is subjective to the individual, then the voice of God would be an inward one in any event, and the distinction to be made would be whether the voice of that of God or of some devil.
If the temptation of Abraham is, as Kierkegaard insists, is an absurdity, how do we distinguish between absurdity and insanity. Would not an identical story have ensued, if instead of being tempted by God, the voices which he heard had been paranoid delusions? In that case, should we not credit them the same way, by faith?