“It is really true what philosophy tells us, that life must be understood backwards. But with this, one forgets the second proposition, that it must be lived forwards.”[1] The prolifically quotable Søren Kierkegaard had many such sayings that would not look out of place on a college dormitory motivational poster or in a pastor’s Sunday morning sermon. This quote succinctly distills down his philosophy and faith that not only covers the breadth of his beliefs but shows how passionate it can be some 220 years later. When Kierkegaard began publishing his work, it was a nuclear bomb dropped on ground zero of the dominant Hegelian philosophy being taught at that time. After two centuries of rationalist ideology, western civilization continues to look to the ideas put forth by the Danish existentialist as a remedy to the destructive consequences of that ideology. The goal of this essay is to revisit one of his more popular ideas—the leap of faith—and show how that idea has cultural relevance today in our evangelistic appeal to unbelievers in the West. This will be done in two parts: firstly, by showing how his critique of reason as espoused by the rationalists of his day was spot on and, secondly, how his view of faith, while going too far in the other direction in some respects, is a profound commentary of the need for a passionate, living faith.

      To understand his “leap of faith”, you must first understand the world in which he was immersed.  Growing up in Denmark in the mid-19^th Century, schools were saturated with Georg Hegel’s idealist philosophies and other rationalists. These philosophers seemed to mimic the thinking and processes of today’s scientists. Scientists believe in objective truth, something that is measurable, finite, observable, and provable. What Hegel did was apply the same thinking to philosophy. Robert Wolff summarizes it this way, “Hegelian philosophers represented themselves as objective, rational discoverers of the truth. Their private fears, hopes, terrors, and joys were no more a part of their philosophy than would a modern biochemist’s neuroses be a part of her theory of DNA.”[2] 

      Hegel did believe in God, but even his view of God was reworked to be more fitting to his philosophy. According to Hegel, God is not a being in the traditional sense. Rather God is the fullest reality, achieved through the self-determination of everything that’s capable of any degree of self-determination. God emerges out of beings of limited reality, including ourselves. That doesn’t mean God is ourselves or is nature, because God is the fullest sense of the real, even more than we are. Also, since Hegel rejected the idea that God can be defined as something that is not us or the world, he embraced a doctrine of immanence that sidestepped the necessity of God being something “other”. Additionally, Hegel’s God creates only in the sense that he is always creating, bringing in a fuller reality as time passes. There is no beginning of creation. This was more palatable to the biologist and astrophysicist in later years since it left room for a much older universe than what is taught in the Bible.[3] 

      If God is immanent and not a transcendent “other” and we can experience God by just living out our freedom and love to its fullest extent, then what was the point of faith? What was faith’s place in this new philosophical understanding of God? If faith is the substance of things hoped for (presumably beyond current time and space) and the evidence of things unseen, then has faith lost its meaning in a world where there is no transcendence? In Hegel’s mind, faith becomes a sort of cousin to inductive reasoning. They both rely on personal experience and evidence, and they can both make room for logic and empirical evidence. Also, faith means we have room to grow into that fuller reality that is God. The intended effect that Hegel had for faith is to not discard it, but to give it a place at the table of understanding. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. 

      This view of God and faith helped to pave the way for other rationalists who went further with it than even Hegel would care to go. It brought with it a litmus test for pure inquiry, “Under the standards of pure inquiry, deductive reasoning, and the scientific method, neither faith nor inductive reasoning can survive, and their disappearance produces skepticism.”[4] This skepticism trickled down from one generation of philosophers to another until it found its end in Friedrich Nietzsche’s death of God narrative where the death of God meant the death of faith. But, in its place we get nothing- a vacuum of sorts. In short, Hegel’s immanent God and rational faith end up as a placebo for the religious person. Its end is always atheism and nihilism.

      Kierkegaard would have no part in this. First, Truth is not Objectivity. Truth is Subjectivity. Truth consists in the proper relationship between the belief and the individual who holds that belief (the subject). As Wolff states, “The Hegelian system builders wanted to treat the Christian message as though it were merely one subpart of their grand structure of objective knowledge. So “Jesus died for my sins” would be treated by them as more or less on par with “Space is three dimensional and homogenous.”[5] But, for Kierkegaard it was just as important how you were saved as it was by what you believe. And since truth is subjective, those beliefs need to be held passionately without a shred of doubt.

      Second, faith must be defined differently than how Hegel defined it because there are simply times in our lives where we are faced with a decision that goes beyond rationality. Kierkegaard did believe in a transcendent God who reveals himself in scripture, in part to give us a glimpse beyond the rational. And we each get to a point in our lives where we must pass the paradox of faith- that is to leave the rational choice behind and make a leap toward the irrational-to embrace the absurd. As we embrace the absurd, God rewards our faith with joy. To make things clear, faith is not a form of reasoning because faith has nothing to do with reason. As Kierkegaard said, “Faith begins precisely where thinking leaves off.”[6] 

      The ultimate example of this leap of faith is the story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac. In Kierkegaard’s interpretation of the Genesis story, Abraham is presented with a choice: Obey God’s order to sacrifice his own son. In doing so, he would have to break one of His commandments, namely, “Thou shalt not murder”. This is the paradox of faith- that someone could turn murder into a holy act well pleasing to God.[7] God gives Abraham two commandments that are diametrically opposed to one another. It is irrational and therefore absurd to expect Abraham to make a choice. But, this is precisely where faith picks up. The reward for obedience is joy that comes from the strength of the absurd and a legacy of greatness. He said, “The one who does that, he is great, the only great one, the thought of it stirs my soul, which was never sparing in its admiration of greatness.”[8]  

      This embrace of the absurd is also a core part of the gospel message. Kierkegaard makes a similar connection by quoting Christ in Luke 14:26 (NIV):  “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.” He says of this passage, “One now sees readily that if the passage is to have any sense, it must be understood literally.”[9] The juxtaposition between this commandment and the other commandment from Christ—to love your neighbor as yourself—highlights the same kind of paradox that Abraham faced. Except the leap of faith here is something we all must make, not just Abraham. 

      Because Kierkegaard makes this observation about the passage in Luke, it demands attention. Are we committing to a teleological suspension of the ethical in order to obey Christ? Or as he says it, “The absolute duty can then lead to what ethics would forbid.”[10] At face value, it does appear to be the only way out of the paradox. If God presented us with two contradictory commandments to both be obeyed, then we would have to abandon all rationality to make a choice. However, there are some problems with the “leap of faith” and these problems are of an exegetical nature, not a philosophical one. 

      Regarding the story of Abraham and Isaac, it is doubtful that Abraham would be committing murder had he plunged the knife into Isaac’s chest. Even the Bible makes distinctions between the taking of a human life and the act of murder. Following God’s commandments is primarily a matter of the heart, not just an action. For the taking of a life to be considered an act of murder, the motive must be considered. From the Expositor’s Commentary on Exodus 20:8:

While Hebrew possesses seven words for killing, the word used here (rasah; ) appears only forty-seven times in the OT. This is the one word that could signify "murder" where premeditation and intentionality are present. Thus this prohibition does not apply to beasts (Ge 9:3), to defending one's home from night-time burglars (Ex 22:2), to accidental killings (Dt 19:5), to the execution of murderers by the state (Ge 9:6), or to involvement with one's nation in certain types of war.[11] 

 Notably, the word “rasah” is not used in Genesis 22 in connection to Isaac being offered up as a burnt offering.

      Furthermore, Abraham’s act of faith stems from his willingness to give over his only son and trust God with the results. It was not to suspend his ethical commitment to God so that he could embrace the absurd. He reasoned that God would raise Isaac from the dead even if did he did have to sacrifice him on the altar.[12]  This is even strongly implied before he makes the trip up the mountain when he said to his servants, “ Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you.” (Genesis 22:5 NIV) 

      With this different understanding of the story of Abraham and Isaac, let’s revisit the passage in Luke. Kierkegaard said we must take the passage literally. But, do we? The very next verse (27) has a similarly-themed warning, “ And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Are we to take that verse literally, too? If not, then why would Jesus pair up one warning which is to be taken literally with one that is not to be taken literally? Kierkegaard is getting hung up on one word—hate—to bolster his argument. But, Matthew can be the interpretational key that unlocks the meaning of Luke. “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.” (Matthew 10:27 ESV) Combining both passages, one can see that God reaffirms His commandment to us to love each other, but that love we have for each other—especially those whom we love most—should pale in comparison to our love to God. Our love for God should be so strong that it makes our love for each other look like hate. 

      So what does this all mean in 2024? Do these objections to the “leap of faith” reduce the entire thing to obscurity? A footnote in the annals of philosophical theology? No, it does not. While Kierkegaard did go too far in his interpretation of the passages in question and in his critique of reason, there is still much to me mined and appreciated today. Indubitably, it is more relevant today than it was during his lifetime. This is mostly due to the destruction that rationalism has left in its wake in the 20^th Century. After two world wars, the rise in abortion, the breakdown of the nuclear family, the sharp decrease in birthrates, the broken promises of Marxism (a spiritual successor to Hegel), and the rise of secularism in almost every institution, including the church, it is inevitable that the backlash is already underway. Western Civilization is turning away from rationality in its daily discourse. In a recent study from the National Academy of the Sciences, there is compelling evidence that shows a trend line away from rational thinking. Marten Scheffer and his colleagues: 

…analyzed language in millions of books covering the period from 1850 to 2019 represented in Google nGram data. We show that the use of words associated with rationality, such as “determine” and “conclusion,” rose systematically after 1850, while words related to human experience such as “feel” and “believe” declined. This pattern reversed over the past decades, paralleled by a shift from a collectivistic to an individualistic focus…[13] 

 This trend has exploded in the most recent two decades as trust in science has eroded at a rapid pace. In a recent interview, Peter Thiel was asked why the public’s trust in science has diminished and he remarked, “In 2024, if you ask scientists if science is too dogmatic or if it is too skeptical, they could not tell you a single thing where science is too dogmatic. We are now in a place where science is more dogmatic than the Catholic Church.”[14][15] Religious fervor never went away and as people become increasingly disillusioned with the underpinnings of mainstream rationalist influences, Kierkegaard can provide some much-needed wisdom and wit to our current day situation.

      Firstly, his critique of rationalism was spot on. Kierkegaard would have been sad to know how dominant rationalism had become (to the point of dogmatism) and to know how much damage rationalist thinking has caused, yet he would be thrilled to hear Theil say that the public has lost trust in science and to read that the pattern of our literature has become less collectivistic and more individualistic. He always saw what calls itself reason to be more of an ideology (as a self-defining, self-legitimizing discourse of contemporary society). For him, science was cold, detached objectivism. If reason was limited to the mental processes in which we implement the laws of logic, formulate meaningful thought, execute judgements, and explain the general cause and effect of human action, then Kierkegaard would have no issue with it. Merold Westphal summarizes Kierkegaard by saying, “faith is a response to revelation and reason, in its most general sense, is the activity of human thought independent of divine reason.”[16] But, in this case, reason includes an entire worldview that inevitably clashes with the Christian worldview. 

      Moreover, some of Kierkegaard’s best arguments against rationalism as a worldview has grown stronger with time. Try as it might, rationalism is not ahistorically universal like it claims to be. Each attempt at coming up with a religion within the limits of reason whether it be Spinoza’s, Kant’s, or Hegel’s has failed to even find universal accord with each other. If it failed to do what it set out to do, then what is it good for?[17] Another argument against rationalism that has grown stronger over time is the inevitable slide into cold, detached objectivity and eventually skepticism. Reason without passion is not desirable because of what it leads to. When it is coupled with the scientific method, the moral outcome has proven to be disastrous. It is what produced the atrocities committed by Nazi physician Joseph Mengele, Unit 731of the Imperial Japanese Army, Stalin’s 5-year plan, and Mao’s Great Leap Forward. 

      Another argument against rationalism that has stood the test of time has to do with the impossibility of pure reason. Kierkegaard observes that pure reason is impossible since it cannot detach itself entirely from the one thinking. 

Pure thinking is—what shall I say—piously or thoughtlessly unaware of the relation that abstraction still continually has to that from which it abstracts. Here in this pure thinking there is rest for every doubt; here is the eternal positive truth and whatever else one cares to say. This means that pure thinking is a phantom. And if Hegelian philosophy is free from all postulates, it has attained this with one insane postulate: the beginning of pure thinking.[18] 

This observation is helpful to any seeker who has been disillusioned by a culture drowning in modernism. Hegelian philosophy will never be able to achieve what it sets out to do. It cannot separate itself from the one who gives it its motivation or what Kierkegaard said it is: its passion. The modern seeker should be relieved to know that they are not insane for thinking that their passions cannot be dismissed, set aside, reworked until it is meaningless to even call them passions. We are not Vulcans after all!

      It is his work on passions that might be Kierkegaard’s greatest contribution to a post-modern generation. Although he went too far with his “leap of faith”, the concept isn’t entirely without merit if we constrain it to a more exegetically consistent Biblical view of faith. In the Bible, faith is a gift given to us by God. It is also a decision to be acted upon and that decision doesn’t happen without zeal. Consider what David said in Psalm 119:11-12  “With all my heart I have sought You; do not let me wander from Your commandments. Your word I have treasured in my heart, that I may not sin against You” And what Solomon said in Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”  A passionate faith is what underlies such love and trust. And while it does not “embrace the absurd” to the point where one would have to defy previous commandments of God, it does look absurd from the perspective of someone that does not have the Spirit.[19] Surely these passages would be in step with a sermon preached by the Danish Philosopher. 

      This kind of passion can speak volumes to a world that thirsts after meaning that can not only make sense of the sensory data around them but can also make sense of the inward emotions and feelings that are a part of the human experience. As Stephen points out, “Kierkegaard calls faith in all its forms a 'passion' and he means by this not a momentary feeling, but a long-term emotion. He often illustrates faith by comparing it to

love, not the momentary passion of someone who is infatuated, but the developed, ‘formed' disposition of the true lover…Just as a lover knows how to interpret the behavior of the beloved, so the person of faith knows how to interpret the handiwork of God seen about us.”[20] If you want to experience God clearly, then allow Him to realign your passions toward him and you will experience Him.

        This brings us back to where we started. Life must be lived forwards. Any leap of faith cannot happen without passion driving it forward. It cannot happen without overcoming the fear of the unknown and the risk one takes with a faith-filled action. Søren Kierkegaard’s leap of faith has its flaws, but it is probably the only philosophy that one can say, “Its heart was in the right place,” and it be an accurate statement. Because with Kierkegaard, it all led back to one Person: “The maximum of attainment within the sphere of faith is to become infinitely interested in the reality of the teacher.”[21]