Kierkegaard: Fear and Trembling

Let’s talk faith — not the watered-down, feel-good kind, but the terrifying, anxiety-inducing, life-altering kind. Søren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling is all about this kind of faith, and spoiler alert: it’s not what you think it is. Faith, according to Kierkegaard, isn’t just believing in God or being a good person (wear your seatbelt, eat your carrots). It’s something far more radical and reckless — and far more uncomfortable.

At the center of his argument is Abraham, the guy who was ready to sacrifice his son Isaac because God told him to. To most people, that sounds like insanity. To Kierkegaard, it’s the ultimate example of true faith. Why? Let’s break it down.

Faith Is Absurd (And That’s the Point)

Here’s Kierkegaard’s big idea: real faith doesn’t make sense. It’s not logical. It doesn’t fit into neat ethical systems or rational arguments. It’s absurd.

Think about Abraham. He wasn’t just willing to kill Isaac; he believed — absurdly — that somehow he’d get Isaac back. He didn’t know how. He didn’t try to rationalize it. He just trusted God completely, even though it made zero sense.

This is what Kierkegaard calls the “paradox of faith.” Faith isn’t about following rules or making sense of the world — it’s about embracing a contradiction so big that it makes your head spin (Mind. Blown.). And yet, Abraham did it anyway.

Infinite Resignation: The First Step

Before we get to faith, let’s talk about infinite resignation. This is Kierkegaard’s term for giving up something you love completely — and making peace with that loss (think Abraham and Isaac).

Imagine you’re madly in love with someone you can never be with. Infinite resignation means accepting that fact and letting go of your hope for a happy ending. But here’s the twist: you don’t stop loving them. You keep that love alive inside you as a kind of eternal truth, even though you’ve given up on ever having them in real life.

It sounds noble, right? And it is. Letting go, accepting the world for what it is. But infinite resignation isn’t faith — it’s just the warm-up act.

The Knight of Faith: Where Things Get Wild

The knight of faith doesn’t stop at infinite resignation. They take an extra step — a leap into the absurd.

After giving up everything (like Abraham giving up Isaac), they believe — against all logic — that they’ll get it back. Not someday in heaven or in some abstract spiritual way, but here and now, in this life. And they believe this not because it makes sense, but because they trust completely in something beyond reason.

Abraham didn’t just resign himself to losing Isaac; he believed he’d keep him even as he prepared to sacrifice him. That’s what makes him a “knight of faith.” He lived in a paradox: fully prepared to lose everything but trusting he’d still have it all.

This sounds crazy — and that’s kind of the point. Faith isn’t logical or explainable. It’s personal, passionate, and deeply absurd.

Ethics vs. Faith: Why Abraham Wasn’t Just a Murderer

Here’s where things get explosive: Kierkegaard argues that Abraham wasn’t acting unethically when he prepared to sacrifice Isaac — even though murder is obviously wrong.

How? Because Abraham wasn’t operating within universal ethics (the rules everyone agrees on). He was acting out of an absolute duty to God — a relationship so personal and so direct that it transcends ethical norms.

Kierkegaard calls this the “teleological suspension of the ethical.” Basically, there are moments when your relationship with God (or whatever ultimate truth you believe in) overrides universal moral principles. This doesn’t mean ethics don’t matter — it means sometimes faith takes you beyond them.

Does this sound dangerous? Absolutely. But Kierkegaard isn’t saying we should all go around breaking rules because “God told us to.” (Before you start planning your “God told me to” defense, remember: Abraham didn’t actually harm Isaac.) He’s saying true faith is rare, private, and deeply personal — and it can never be fully understood.

Infinite Resignation vs. Faith: What Most People Get Wrong

Most people think faith is just believing in something without evidence — “Heaven exists even though I can’t see it”. That’s not what Kierkegaard means at all.

Infinite resignation is noble but safe — it lets you accept loss and move on with dignity. But faith is risky and absurd — it asks you to believe in the impossible while still embracing reality as it is.

Most religious people settle for infinite resignation without realizing it. They give up their desires for some higher spiritual purpose but never take the leap into true faith — the belief that they’ll get back what they gave up through some incomprehensible miracle.

Why This Matters (Even If You’re Not Religious)

Not religious? Neither am I. But here’s why you should care. Kierkegaard isn’t just talking about religion; he’s talking about how we deal with life’s biggest contradictions and uncertainties.

We all hit moments where reason fails us — where logic can’t tell us what to do, ethical rules don’t provide clear answers. Maybe it’s choosing between two impossible options or committing to something that makes no sense on paper but feels deeply right in your gut.

Kierkegaard calls these moments leaps of faith — not blind leaps into irrationality but conscious choices to trust something beyond what you can see or prove. It’s a way to let go and believe in something bigger than yourself.

Whether or not you believe in God, life often asks you to take a leap. That might be for love, purpose, creativity, or even just hope for a better future.

The Courage to Leap

Bottom line: most people avoid true faith because it’s terrifying. It asks too much. It forces us to live with anxiety and paradox instead of easy answers and clear rules. Better to play it safe, we think.

For those who embrace it — for those willing to make the leap — faith offers something extraordinary: a life lived authentically, passionately, and fully committed to what matters most.

Kierkegaard knew this wasn’t for everyone — and maybe that includes you and me — but his challenge holds: Are you willing to face life’s absurdities head-on? Are you ready to give up everything while trusting you’ll somehow gain it all back?

Faith isn’t comfortable or logical — it makes no sense. But maybe that’s why it matters at all. In a world where everything’s scripted, or at least feels like it’s scripted, it’s worth remembering that nothing worth a damn makes sense any way. And it’s terrifying. But it matters: whether you play it safe, never daring to make waves, or you go all in on the absurd.