Fear and Trembling: Preamble from the Heart Summary & Analysis

Johannes states that the temporal world is imperfect—frequently hard work isn’t enough to earn the same social status and wealth that some of the laziest people enjoy. The spirit world, however, is dominated by divine justice and everyone must work for what they want. Johannes proclaims that modern wisdom says it’s enough to know of God in general in order to reap the benefits, and that no other work is necessary. However, people who adhere to this belief starve even though everything around them “is transformed into gold.” Abraham’s story is unique because it’s even inspiring to people who don’t really understand it. People must work hard to understand either Abraham or his story, but few people are willing to do this. As a result, they refer to Isaac as the “best” Abraham had instead of by his name.

Johannes writes that there’s something that people leave out of Abraham’s story: the anguish he must have felt knowing he had to sacrifice Isaac. Because that anguish makes people uncomfortable, they use the terms “Isaac” and “best” interchangeably, and the danger is that someone hearing the story told that way might want to prove their faith by making a similar sacrifice, which horrifies the preacher who told them the story. They do this because the preacher left out Abraham’s faith and his anguish at hearing what God wanted him to do. There is a contradiction here: what Abraham did made him great, but when the listener tries to do the same thing they’re vilified. Ethically speaking, Abraham was willing to murder Isaac; when one takes Abraham’s faith into account, however, the expression changes to that he was willing to sacrifice Isaac. Therein lies the difference between Abraham and the listener: faith.

Johannes says that the only safe way to talk about Abraham’s story is to make his faith the “main thing,” not the willingness or the act of preparing to sacrifice Isaac. Johannes writes that if he were to be in charge of sharing Abraham’s story, it would take several Sundays as he dwelled over how devout Abraham had to be to be chosen by God to make such an immense sacrifice and the great love Abraham had for Isaac. If any of his listeners still felt tempted to sacrifice their own sons as a sign of faith, Johannes would follow them and do his best to talk them out of it and realize their error, all the while asserting that not even he truly has faith.

The topic of love receives endless attention from poets, but nobody gives the same amount of attention to faith. Philosophy and theology leave faith in the dust, which is why Johannes believes it’s easy to “go beyond” Abraham but nearly impossible to go further than Hegel. For Johannes’ part, he finds it easy to understand Hegel, but impossible to understand Abraham. Johannes assures his audience that he is no stranger to greatness, and that he can visualize himself as a great hero, but he can’t relate in the same way to Abraham. This is because Abraham had true faith, which is something Johannes lacks. Although Johannes can face horrible things without flinching, he doesn’t have the courage to take the next step into faith like Abraham. So, although he loves God, he doesn’t have faith.

Johannes says that he prefers to talk about Abraham’s story as if it recently happened so the only distance between the two is Abraham’s greatness and Johannes’ lack thereof. Johannes says that if God asked him to make the same sacrifice as Abraham then he would have done it, but he would have seen it as sacrificing all his hope for joy in this world (although he’d still believe in God’s love). While some people might say this is more commendable than Abraham’s “narrow-mindedness,” Johannes says it would only be a substitute for faith. More importantly, Johannes doesn’t think he could have accepted Isaac back as easily and joyfully as Abraham did—the pain would be too difficult for Johannes to overcome. Abraham, however, truly believed “on the strength of the absurd” that God would not really take Isaac away if Abraham proved he was willing to give him. 

Johannes proposes to take the story one step further and imagine that Abraham really did sacrifice Isaac. Still, Abraham would have believed that God would give him Isaac back to enjoy in this life. That is what faith is—giving up everything and, in the same instant, taking it all back by believing it will come back in this world. Johannes says that if Abraham had changed one thing—sacrificing Isaac at home instead of following God’s command to the letter, for instance—then Johannes wouldn’t admire him as much. As it is, Abraham followed directions and joyfully received Isaac back (another testament to his faith; if he hadn’t been joyful, then his faith wouldn’t have been real). Abraham moved past infinite resignation and now stands at the extreme of faith, and so Johannes can’t entirely understand him.

Johannes writes that if anyone feels like they have become faithful after hearing the outcome of Abraham’s story, then they are deceiving themselves or possibly trying to cheat God by claiming they have faith without going through all the spiritual movements to develop it. Some people might succeed in this because in the modern day, everyone tries to go further than faith. Johannes asks if it wouldn’t be better for people to stop at faith and then direct their energy towards keeping it. He also explains that while he can’t make all the movements of faith himself, he admires the people who do. His observations have shown him how to differentiate between a knight of infinite resignation by their boldness, and a person of true faith (who often seems like an average member of the middle class).

Although Johannes has never met a true knight of faith, he believes that if he ever did, then he’d divide his time between admiring them and practicing the spiritual movements that lead to faith. Johannes states that a typical knight of faith would lead a wholly unremarkable life and it’d be almost impossible to pick them out of a crowd based on appearances, and yet all they do. A knight of faith has renounced whatever is most important to him, but they still find as much happiness in this world as if they never had to give up a thing. What’s more, the knight of faith is always making this movement—infinite resignation and then getting it all back through faith. Johannes likens it to a ballet dancer gracefully leaping and making a perfect landing. Knights of faith do it gracefully enough that most people don’t even realize they’re doing it.

Johannes says he wants to illustrate these movements by telling a story about a young man who falls in love with a princess. The man’s whole life is bound up in his love for the princess, but it’s impossible for him to marry her. If the man is a knight of infinite resignation, then after a good deal of thought over the impossibility of the relationship, he will renounce the relationship and reconcile himself to the pain. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll move on or be jealous of anything the princess does—his love becomes eternal and transcends the temporal. It’s still his life’s substance, but he loves her without hope that they’ll be united in this life. Anyone can make this movement of infinite resignation and achieve peace through it, but it is still only a step (albeit the final one) before faith.

Johannes moves on to describe how the young man would handle the situation as a knight of faith. He would go through the same process of renunciation and reconcile himself to its pain, but he goes one step further and declares that he believes he’ll still get the princess back in this life “on the strength of the absurd.” Here, Johannes explains that the absurd isn’t anything that can be “embraced by understanding,” but something much more complex. According to all human understanding, it is impossible for the man and the princess to be together, but he nevertheless believes that they will. The knight of faith recognizes the impossibility and still grasps onto the absurd—that the impossible can and will happen in this life—and through it discovers the faith which will comfort and bring him joy.

Johannes states that faith is something more than a purely “aesthetic emotion” that one develops all in a second without taking the proper steps. For this reason, even an innocent young girl who’s been raised to be a faithful Christian and believes in God doesn’t necessarily have faith, although she has certainty. Johannes says that he can see that that the movement of infinite resignation can be done, but the movement from that to faith baffles him. What he does know is that certainty or conviction is not equal to faith when it comes to facing the impossible. The first movement—that of resignation—doesn’t require faith, but rather opens the door to it by creating an “eternal consciousness.” Resignation means renouncing everything, but through faith one can receive it all over again and find happiness with it in this world.

Johannes writes that he is strong enough to renounce everything temporal, especially if he continues to love God more than worldly joy. However, this takes strength, and Johannes says he spends all his strength on continually renouncing things. However, faith declares that he can simultaneously get it all back. Unfortunately, Johannes is unable to make the movement into faith, although he knows it must be wonderful to experience the same peace and confidence as a knight of faith who believes they’ll receive everything back on the strength of the absurd.

Referring to his original observation that many modern people want to “go further” than faith, Johannes wonders if it’s possible that his generation really has grasped faith and, if they have, why they are still so unwilling to stop at it. Johannes himself can’t understand this unwillingness—if he were able to develop real faith, he would flaunt it by driving in a carriage. Johannes again says that he can’t make the final movement of faith (not out of any unwillingness, but a lack of courage), but he insists that nobody has the right to portray faith as something easy to develop or inferior to anything because it’s the hardest and yet greatest thing of all. 

Johannes returns to Abraham, saying that many people focus on the ending and skip over the three-day long journey he had to take, knowing where it would end and even knowing that he could change his mind. According to Johannes, Abraham’s story should be either entirely forgotten or the modern age must try to really understand it. Johannes says that if he were to tell the story, he would focus on the pain of the trial, emphasizing that it lasted days and not just a moment, and in that way hopefully dissuade them from any temptation to prove their faith in a similar way. Johannes goes on to say that he’s going to further discuss Abraham’s story by exploring several questions to illustrate the power of faith and how it can’t truly be understood because it “begins precisely where thinking leaves off.”