Existentialism and a Dane Named Soren
Philosophers have always tried to make things we take for granted into things we actually have to apply brain power to in order to make sense out of them. Now, while it may not sound this way from the previous sentence, I approve of these measures. We, as a society, don't think about things nearly enough. But the majority of people don't really appreciate accomplishments of that ilk, so it can be quite a breath of fresh air when a philosopher attempts a different tack.
Soren Kierkegaard, a man who seems more intriguing every time I read about him, was a Dane who attempted to de-think-ify the philosophy of religion. Living for only 41 years in the 19th century, Soren (who actually had one of those curious "o"s with a slash through them, in that delightfully Scandinavian fashion) proposed that religion was defined by its practicers--not its tenets. Read on.
In 1843, a book known as "Fear and Trembling," by one Johannes de Silentio, found its way onto the market. History tells us that Johannes wasn't the writer's real name; rather, a certain Soren Kierkegaard had his hands soiled with its ink. Regardless, Soren (excuse me--de Silentio) had written a book that explained a curious new method of examining religion. Instead of requiring an established church to define everything in clear, 12-point font for all of its followers, he held that religion was rather put together by each individual person. He claimed that you had to take "leaps of faith" for your religion, because trying to make objective arguments in support of your beliefs was not only difficult but also almost always fruitless. He used the situation of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac to form the conclusion that your religion (and thus, any deity of your religion) only has as much power as you assign them, and that as such most sermons become insipid "lemonade-twaddle" (a term which I practically erupt in giggles every time I hear it) due to their impersonality. Each individual had to make his or her own judgments regarding his/her religion, because no other person--in the form of preaching, evangelism, or what have you, could tell the other what simply was and wasn't. (This would eliminate the leaps of faith, and thus the important part of religion.) The only effective/permissible form of sharing would be the subjective bits--the "I felt" and "I believe" parts, as they come from a personal perspective.
Kierkegaard's perspective wins him many critics and admirers alike. Some Christians love him--because it makes their religion bullet-proof by those who seek to disprove God--and others hate him--because it takes out all those nice rational proofs of God's existence that took them so long to make up. Atheists, seeking to persuade others that there is no God, can become irritated at him for taking away their ammunition to persuade theists that they're wrong, but they can at least take comfort in the relative sanctuary that his philosophy provides for them as well. In short, Kierkegaard's philosophy takes all the people trying to poke holes in other people's religions, and segregates them with those nice little elastic partitions--like the ones that are ubiquitous at airport ticket counters--so they can talk to each other about their wonderful personal experiences but remain out of poking range. Kierkegaard does away with "you're wrong" and replaces it with "I believe differently"--a conciliatory motion, perhaps, but not one that many of the more vocally religious people would be wont to pick up.
It should be noted, at this point, that Kierkegaard's perspective has a touch of paradox in it. By saying that people define their own religion by their own emphases and faith, he's suggesting a different perspective for them to take. He's going against his own philosophy by trying to tell other people about it. Think about that for a moment--if religion is truly individual, why is he telling everyone else what to do? It becomes almost comedic at this point, but one could explain this by having him say that it's what he *believes*--a subjective experience. Then he's simply sharing, which becomes permissible under his existentialist view of religion. But it's still entertaining while it lasts.
Soren Kierkegaard, a man who seems more intriguing every time I read about him, was a Dane who attempted to de-think-ify the philosophy of religion. Living for only 41 years in the 19th century, Soren (who actually had one of those curious "o"s with a slash through them, in that delightfully Scandinavian fashion) proposed that religion was defined by its practicers--not its tenets. Read on.
In 1843, a book known as "Fear and Trembling," by one Johannes de Silentio, found its way onto the market. History tells us that Johannes wasn't the writer's real name; rather, a certain Soren Kierkegaard had his hands soiled with its ink. Regardless, Soren (excuse me--de Silentio) had written a book that explained a curious new method of examining religion. Instead of requiring an established church to define everything in clear, 12-point font for all of its followers, he held that religion was rather put together by each individual person. He claimed that you had to take "leaps of faith" for your religion, because trying to make objective arguments in support of your beliefs was not only difficult but also almost always fruitless. He used the situation of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac to form the conclusion that your religion (and thus, any deity of your religion) only has as much power as you assign them, and that as such most sermons become insipid "lemonade-twaddle" (a term which I practically erupt in giggles every time I hear it) due to their impersonality. Each individual had to make his or her own judgments regarding his/her religion, because no other person--in the form of preaching, evangelism, or what have you, could tell the other what simply was and wasn't. (This would eliminate the leaps of faith, and thus the important part of religion.) The only effective/permissible form of sharing would be the subjective bits--the "I felt" and "I believe" parts, as they come from a personal perspective.
Kierkegaard's perspective wins him many critics and admirers alike. Some Christians love him--because it makes their religion bullet-proof by those who seek to disprove God--and others hate him--because it takes out all those nice rational proofs of God's existence that took them so long to make up. Atheists, seeking to persuade others that there is no God, can become irritated at him for taking away their ammunition to persuade theists that they're wrong, but they can at least take comfort in the relative sanctuary that his philosophy provides for them as well. In short, Kierkegaard's philosophy takes all the people trying to poke holes in other people's religions, and segregates them with those nice little elastic partitions--like the ones that are ubiquitous at airport ticket counters--so they can talk to each other about their wonderful personal experiences but remain out of poking range. Kierkegaard does away with "you're wrong" and replaces it with "I believe differently"--a conciliatory motion, perhaps, but not one that many of the more vocally religious people would be wont to pick up.
It should be noted, at this point, that Kierkegaard's perspective has a touch of paradox in it. By saying that people define their own religion by their own emphases and faith, he's suggesting a different perspective for them to take. He's going against his own philosophy by trying to tell other people about it. Think about that for a moment--if religion is truly individual, why is he telling everyone else what to do? It becomes almost comedic at this point, but one could explain this by having him say that it's what he *believes*--a subjective experience. Then he's simply sharing, which becomes permissible under his existentialist view of religion. But it's still entertaining while it lasts.
posted by LactoOvoRefugee at 8:13 PM
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