To exist as an individual, it is necessary to be withdrawn from the entire world. The individual then is aware of himself -- that he exists -- and this is the greatest and most terrible thing. Indeed, on one hand, the individual recognizes that he is created by God, and hence that he comes from nothing. But at the same time this is the most terrible thing, for to exist -- as the etymology of the word indicates -- is "to stand out," "to emerge from"; the finite existent being is detached from God. Thus I must recognize that my existence denotes a detachment, an opposition to God.
In consequence of this, my existence is in itself a mystery: on the one hand I cannot be non-existent, and on the other, my existence is bathed in sin; I exist, and I am necessarily a sinner. (Kierkegaard, as a Protestant, accepts the doctrine of Luther that man, inconsequence of the original fall, is essentially a sinner.)
The consciousness of this contradiction causes anguish, and anguish ends in despair -- the individual accepts existence as a mystery which he cannot hope to fathom. But because of the coincidence of opposites, from despair rises faith, and faith gives the individual the hope of redemption by means of grace. I abandon myself to the grace of God; I pray, and the prayer gives me the "pre-sentiment" that time will be changed into eternity and death into life.
Is this enough ...?
J.D.
Friday, December 09, 2005
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