KIERKEGAARD’S IMAGE OF THE INCARNATION

            In my Kierkegaard class we are now dealing with his book Fear and Trembling. In addition to all the interesting and insightful things in this challenging book, near the first Kierkegaard analyses Chapter 22 of the Book of Genesis in the Old Testament. In that chapter his pseudonym Johannes de Silentio explores just what it is that makes Abrham the “Father of Faith” as discussed in Chapter 22 of the Book of Genesis. Afterall, in that story Abraham is called by God to sacrifice his only son Isaac who is promised to be the progenitor of the entire race of Israel.

            Kierkegaard contrasts Abraham, as the “Knight of Faith”, to “A Knight of Infinite Resignation” because the latter gives up all hope, while the former holds on to his faith that God will somehow provide a miracle and avoid Isaac’s death in the sacrifice. Abraham is said not to be able to provide any explanation for his behavior, only that he will obey God’s radical request to kill his son. As the Bible story goes, at the last minute, after Abraham has raised his knife into the air he spies a young ram caught in a nearby thicket. He offers the ram in place of Isaac. In the end, then, Abraham has proven his faith by being willing to kill his son because God asked him to.

            This story is part of Kierkegaard’s development of the idea that ultimate faith is, in the end, irrational, that God calls upon his faithful to rise above ordinary customs and rules, even to perform irrational acts in order to prove their faith. Of course, this ready and seemingly easy explanation of Abraham’s behavior has long been a focus point for philosophical and theological debates about the nature of true faith. It is debatable amongst Kierkegaardian scholars whether this really is what Kierkegaard was trying to say.

            My interest here for this writing has to do with a particular example that he gives along the way by way of explaining the meaning of Abraham’s behavior. In his discussion of Abraham’s behavior Kierkegaard uses a particular illustration of what he thinks Abraham was up to in this highly dramatic scene. He suggests a contrasting parallel between Abraham, as the ”Knight of Faith” and what he calls “The Knight of Infinite Resignation”, namely the person who resigns everything to God, including his son Isaac, without expecting to receive anything in return. He argues that a true believer trusts, and thus knows, that he will receive everything back again from God.

            By way of illustrating his point, Kierkegaard offers the example of what he calls the ultimate dancer, who, unlike the imposters who stumble slightly when returning to earth, the Knight of Faith is “able to fall in such a way that in the same second that it looks as if he were standing and walking, he transforms the leap of life into a walk, absolutely to express the sublime into the pedestrian – only  of the integration of the divine and the human. (Bretall, Kierkegaard Anthology, p.121.) The perfect dancer, according to Kierkgaard, somehow integrates the divine into the pedestrian, even as Jesus did in his incarnation of the divine into the human.

            Without going further into the theological and philosophical issues involved here, which are many and enjoyable, in this writing I only want to focus on this notion of the simultaneity of the divine and the human in this perfect dancer. In my view, Kierkegaard’s image here of the dancer who perfectly transforms the divine into the human fits well, if not perfectly, with the person and teachings of Jesus in the New Testament. He is not some sort of cosmic “Knight of Infinite Resignation”, but is, rather, the divine incarnated into a human person who seeks to transform human people by teaching them to “dance” even as Jesus danced.

            I think Kierkegaard himself fails to see this possibility and holds out for a more traditional understanding of the incarnation. But this image of his that focuses the integration of the divine and the “pedestrian” without turning Jesus into some sort of “spooky” supernatural ghost strikes me as more authentic than his own ultimate interpretation of the incarnation. It was Jesus’ teachings and “servings” as he embodied them that demonstrate the love of God for humans. As Kierkegaard says: “That only the Knight of Faith can do, and this is the one and only prodigy.”

            In terms that fit with Kierkegaard’s overall message here, I think his strong, traditional Calvinistic views here cloud his vision into seeing Jesus as a “totally other” transcendent being. I think his image of the “perfect dancer” who can integrate the two aspects of the Knight of Faith “at the same time”, transforming the leap of life into a walk “is the one and only prodigy.” Jesus was not, as I read him, a totally transcendent being, nor some sort of dualistic freak. He was, instead, one who integrated heaven and earth in his life for others. I guess that’s my Easter message: Indwell Jesus’ “life for others.” (cf. Sermon on the Mount Matt. 5-7)