How would Kierkegaard Respond to Camus?

Our generation has often spoken with reverence of Sisyphus, and I felt moved to respond just now, after recalling it. Many of us have talked as if Camus has put forth something we’ve known our whole lives, but without realizing it. I have to say that I, too, have stood with them, admiring the mastery with which the human condition is considered within these few pages. If this seems like the truest account of humanity, perhaps it is because it may be.

I know I would be the typical one to be speaking like this, but then again, you probably know already that I must have more to say than that. And I do. But inasmuch as Camus focuses on the human condition, Ned, I believe he is right, and yet, if my life indicates anything I hope it shows that there is more to life than just absurdity.

But going back to Camus, he believed what he wrote. And I think his work is so believable because he wrote about himself, and then he also wrote about all of us. He knew himself better than the best of us do, perhaps, even on our most insightful days. He looked at the same world, the same life, that we do, but I think his bravery – his ability to not let himself be diverted from considering the chaos around him – is admirable. He saw the fatal flaw of our life – the meaninglessness, and the eternity. And yet with his fist raised, he turned back to himself, to his life, never reasoning that perhaps the intention of life is for us to see its meaninglessness and look beyond it for answers.

I did say ‘eternity’, even though Camus said he did not believe in such a thing. But it is my opinion that he did, and this was the thing that he believed without articulating, just as you and I read his writing and felt we had believed it all along without articulating it. For in ‘shaking his fist’, he was looking out at the eternity of lives lived over all of time, boiling them all down to one generality – that they are all meaningless, going off into eternity with no end, and no purpose. And so, where he saw that reason is unable to surmount the chaos of Life, and chose his life anyway, that is where I leave him. I found faith instead, and in finding it, realized that it found me.

I write this to share my experience, and faith is my experience. It is how I understand the purpose of this life. Ah, purpose – something from which Camus was so far, and yet so near at the same time. In your own journey through life, I pray that you too will continue to ask these hard questions of life.

On Nietzsche

Few had as much influence on the twentieth century as did Friedrich Nietzsche; therefore it does not behoove our generation to be ignorant of his teachings. Ignorance will not help us learn from his missteps, or gain insight from his reflection. Nietzsche’s regarded Christianity, as a parasitic religion, denying of life and delighting in the submission of its (stronger) enemies. In his own words, “parasitism [is] the only practice of the church; with its ideal… of ‘holiness,’ draining… all hope for life.” He saw the Christian cross of Jesus Christ as “the mark… for the most subterranean conspiracy that ever existed… against life itself.” Closing out his work The Anti-Christ, he declares, “I condemn Christianity. It is to me the highest of all conceivable corruptions.”

What would give one impetus toward such hostility for Christianity, a creed that unites over 2 billion people worldwide? We can trace Nietzsche’s logic to his exaltation of instinct and natural strength – to Nietzsche, instinct was mankind’s way toward progress, and suppression of instinct was equivalent to suppression of progress, of survival, of all that is truly good. Christianity is the ultimate suppressor of instinct. But Christianity is also a system driven at its very core by contempt for those blessed with strength. Morality and “free will” were concepts created by theologians to make mankind responsible for his actions, and therefore in need of a priest’s guidance. Christianity is a scheme of the weak that subdues the strong. The natural end of saintly devotion, in Nietzsche’s mind, was a eunuch – one who had thrown off all natural passions of this world, all strength and instinct, for the virtue of his God above. “The saint in whom God delights is the ideal eunuch. Life has come to an end where the ‘kingdom of God’ begins.”

Because Nietzsche saw Christian morality as anti-instinct, anti-strength, his conclusion was that Christianity was the death of the human race. But to the Christian in the crowd, I say that we should not simply dismiss such beliefs, thinking, “we must protect our children,” or, “we must protect our minds from such attacks.” I believe that few influential writers have had such insight into true human nature as Nietzsche. Without God, there is nothing else but us. Let us stop imagining that others should respect our morality, our judgment, our way of life. Our system is not one of our own strength, and it is not one of our own logic or merit – therefore it is against the system of logic and strength that we are given naturally.

However, to those who are not Christians, I say that Nietzsche was right – instinct and strength should be the way of the human – and yet he was wrong. For though the human’s way should be to pursue strength and instinct, I would suggest that that way does not go up or forward. Look around yourself and see the news of sorrow everywhere, the endless wars, deaths without reason. Look inside and search for a reason in all these things. Then, tell me, if you can, that man’s true instinct, once unfurled, will lead him toward unfettered progress, and eventually, perfection.