The happy burgher is indistinguishable from the crowd, and yet, Johannes continues, “he purchases every moment he lives . . . at the dearest price; not the least thing does he do except on the strength of the absurd.”19 Johannes insists that he is essentially akin to Abraham after all. His open-armed, full-blooded relation to the ethical whole of the creaturely realm, his being at home in the world, is at every moment the invisible double movement of faith.
He drains in infinite resignation the deep sorrow of existence . . . he has felt the pain of renouncing everything, whatever is most precious in the world [Isaac!], and yet to him finitude tastes just as good as to one who has never known anything higher . . . the earthly form he presents is a new creation on the strength of the absurd.20
In light of Johannes’s description of the happy burgher as a knight of faith, the meaning of the sacrifice of Isaac as an illustration of the nature of faith demands radical reconsideration. Stephen Crites’s observations are enlightening in this regard.
But faith, after negating the finite . . . negates as well the infinitude that stands opposed to it, and so embraces again the things of this world. On different terms, however: For now earthly things are no longer . . . self-explanatory . . . simply given in the nature of things . . . the earthly things faith now embraces it receives as miraculous gifts fresh from the hand of God. . . . Faith realizes existentially what it means to live, not in a self-contained cosmos, but in creation.21
When the story of Abraham and the happy burgher of Copenhagen are read together, the sacrifice of faith takes on the nature of a radicalized relation to the finite world, and the persons and things within it, that gives up the status and authority of the ethical as such and in its own right, and whole-heartedly embraces it rather as a gift from God, which is understood to be its proper basis. Faith is not a sacrifice (giving up) of the neighbor, but a receiving and embracing of the neighbor on their proper basis, as a gift from God.
Again, then, the key point with regard to faith? On Abraham’s terms: Abraham’s decision of faith is not a breach or rejection of the ethical, but rather an affirming yet displacing embrace of the ethical on the grounds of faith—understood as the distinctive and particular relation to God. In the faith of Abraham, “the ethical is reduced to the relative.” And Johannes is quick to add, “it doesn’t follow . . . that the ethical is to be done away with. Only that it gets quite a different expression.”22 Abraham’s decision of faith only appears as a breach of the ethical if one assumes that, in the Hegelian (and as we shall see, modern in a more general sense) understanding of faith, the ethical is the highest in relation to faith. But if Abraham is taken as determinative of the nature of faith then it is faith that is the highest, and the ethical is not rejected, but is wholly embraced, albeit as relative to faith.
One of Kierkegaard’s tricks in his reading of Hegel, then, is to overturn the Hegelian supersessionist movement of “going further” than Abrahamic faith by which the particularity of faith is embraced, superseded and given its true content and meaning from the higher, universal standpoint of the ethical. And in the reading of Barth that follows we will find that this overturned supersessionist structure of affirmation and displacement, by which the ethical is embraced on grounds other than its own, that is, on the impossible grounds of faith, is remarkably similar to the riskily supersessionist structure of an evangelical Christian faith’s embrace of Abraham and the Jewish neighbor. As the argument goes on to show, there seems to be enough supersessionism here for everyone. And consequently, the remedy does not easily—or ever—escape the poison (at least as far as what is humanly possible).
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If one looks closely, then, at the contest between Kierkegaard and Hegel as it is staged in Fear and Trembling, it is clear that what is at issue is not an either/or decision between faith and the ethical. Rather, the issue is an either/or decision between two understandings of faith, in its relation to the ethical. One understanding sees the God-relation of faith as “the highest,” and as such, the proper ground of the ethical. I am calling this an understanding of faith that takes Abraham as a model. Such an understanding of faith has several distinctive elements. The first two are structural.
1. The God to whom one is in relation in faith is absolutely distinguishable from creation and humanity and, as such, is “over all.” Consequently, the relation of faith to God is absolutely distinguishable from all relations to creation and humanity.
2. The relation of faith to God is held to be absolutely prior and binding, determining the nature and status of all relations to creation and humanity.
3. The third element is substantive, dealing with singular content: the God to whom one is in relation in faith is the God of Abraham, a God who embarks upon a determinate, particular history with this determinate, particular people, through which God works to bless all people and all of creation. This is the God who chooses to bless all the nations through the concrete history of one tribal community, the God who promised Isaac to Abraham.
And this is where things get tricky. The “absolutes” of the first two structural elements—absolutely distinguishable, absolutely prior—are complicated and seemingly compromised by the third, substantive element. For the God (and the God-relation) that is absolutely distinct from all historical relations of the ethical is a God who unaccountably chooses to be in relation to us—to all of history—by entering history and the historical relations of the ethical in a very particular way. For Christian faith, this particular way is the incognito of a particular human person amidst a particular people. So, how to distinguish the absolute God-relation from all other, creaturely relations if the former does indeed occur in the midst of the latter? How to distinguish the knight of faith from the petit bourgeois? How to distinguish Abraham from a murderer?23
Leaving these troubling questions for the moment, I suggest that a Christian faith taking Abraham as a model would most likely entail a particular, historically contingent, kerygmatic confession, e.g., that the God of Israel has acted decisively for all the nations in the particular person and work of Jesus Christ, the seed of Abraham, the promised Messiah of the Jewish people and the risen Lord of all creation.24 And this particular faith-relation, to this particular God as witnessed to in this confession, would be understood as absolutely (though, given the above, complicatedly) distinguishable from all other creaturely relations. As such, it would determine the nature, status, and meaning of all other, creaturely relations. More specifically, it would determine the Church’s understanding of and relation to the world and to the neighbor, including the Jewish neighbor. Consequently, it is no wild stretch of imagination to suggest that the theology of Karl Barth might come to mind as a contemporary example of an understanding of Christian faith that takes Abraham as a model. I will, in fact, make this very suggestion, and attempt to make good on it in the following two chapters.
The other understanding of the nature of faith that takes shape within the contest between Kierkegaard and Hegel sees the ethical as the highest, and as such, as the highest expression and truest meaning, indeed the entire substance, of faith itself. It is assumed that only within the sphere of the ethical can we best understand the proper nature, status, and meaning of the God-relation of faith. Taking our cue from Kierkegaard’s mischievous characterization of Hegelian Christianity as “going further” than Abraham, we can say that this