Kierkegaard: Sensing Through Faith pt. 6

Read the introduction and part 1 of this series here. Also, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

That raucous, unforgivable crowd -jeering, taunting, laughing, "He has helped others; now let him help himself." History and dramatization may have colored this moment incorrectly...

Whoever can stand at a crucifixion either has a motive, a relative being killed, or a morbid sense of pleasure, I would think. And I would imagine that those shouting callously, scoffingly would be few -the morbid enthusiasts, possibly drunk, drunk on wine or the power of hatred, bitterness, and injustice, not toward Jesus, but toward their own lives of sorrow and hopelessness.

It seems that the stronger current surging through the descending blackness, rolling in on the storm would have been hope.

"What was it that he once said?" they might have whispered. "That..." scratching a beard or shifting a baby from one hip to another, "that his time had not yet come."

In the space of a few silent moments, they would raise their eyes to his serene face, and barely breath out, "has it perhaps come now?"

The scene would perhaps have been "meaningless madness," as Kierkegaard describes, confusion, hope deferred. Those who most believed in him as the Messiah, but who understood the Messiah would come in glory, to overthrow Rome and save Israel from oppression, would they perhaps have felt a surge in their chests, a power in the silence, a drama in the elements that orchestrated THE MOMENT when he would reveal his glory to the entire world? Did they stand with a motive of expectation that he was the Messiah?

The madness in this hoped-for expectation was embodied in the cast of characters: A teacher, "miscarried genius who claims to be God," and his company of tax collectors, condemned characters, and lepers, "these are the authorities so competent to decide what truth is?!"

Would they also transform into mighty men, warriors, kings and princes from God? Because surely in their humanity, nothing could come of the least.

These men and disreputable women knew that they were the least, that Jesus was before them, dying, the man who sought them out and said, "follow me, you are good enough, and you are loved." If only by this affirmation they understood, through hazy, human understanding, that in Jesus they saw God, and they worshiped him.

And the final onlookers, those sagacious, religious, and sensible expressed pity.

Their pity was likely a justification to themselves when comparing their position to those around them. The drunken scoffers, hopeful, simple followers, and somber worshipers each expressed a degree of faith in either Jesus' guilt, his eminent glory, or his present unity with God. These wise men stood, unable to grasp Jesus' person in that moment; they observed what He did, avoiding why he did it, not broaching judgment of the moment or the person of Christ, which would likely have upset their theology, world-view, or respectability. So, they "paid their dues," a quick respect, the socially acceptable tribute, and smugly rested within themselves, "I am not that callous."

What does this moment embody in conflicting, contradictory scenes that history loves to remake, repeat, color and dramatize? The truth is, despite the anger, the hope, the worship, or the pity, Jesus died. The final hours of the cross were not profound, they were a failure. All observing and watching saw it end in death -there was not a trace of glory revealed, only confirmation to those who hoped, and those who worship, and those who pitied him, that he was indeed, a "miscarried genius who claimed to be God," and died. Only a few of those in attendance ever saw him again or heard a different ending to the story.

This ends the account of what can be known of Jesus. Everything beyond requires faith. While that may not be profound to most people it is infinitely helpful to heady, academic, literate people, whose every life and thought centers around what can be known, understood, thought, and explained. I have sought to know Jesus for as long as I can remember, and the most profound truth is that I cannot know any more than this.

All this world-historical to-do and arguments and proofs of the truth of Christianity must be discarded; the only proof there is, is faith . . . My development or any man's, proceeds like this: maybe he too starts out with some reasons, but they represent the lower plane. Then he makes a choice; under the weight of responsibility before God a conviction will be born in him by God's help. Now he has attained the positive. Henceforth he cannot defend his conviction or prove it by reasons; that would be a contradiction in terms, since reasons belong to the lower plane. . . There is only one proof of the truth of Christianity: the inner proof . . . it is not the reasons that motivate belief in the Son of God, but the other way around, belief in the Son of God constitutes the evidence. It is the very motion of the infinite and it cannot be otherwise. -The Diary of Søren Kierkegaard (Rhode Citadel Press)

This conclusion sounds very relativistic, some would say post-modern, especially when compared with liturgical faith. However, this is why I have such an affinity for S.K.; his faith journey, paired with his reasoning and heady philosophical perception of the world make reason(s) a barrier, even a stumbling block in Christianity. But when I stare at the end of reason, the rope dangling from my hand I am finally free to believe, and for "belief in the Son of God to become the evidence," not "the reasons [to] motivate belief in the Son of God."

There is more to come! I may take a break this weekend, but check back on Monday for the implications of Jesus for Christianity.