Don't avoid uncertainty. Unamuno, Life 6.15
Real
faith must not avoid uncertainty, Unamuno says. But foolish faith
will do so, and so will foolish doubt, the kind of doubt that is
incapable of doubting itself. The human condition is one that
necessarily copes with radical uncertainty, no matter what position
any of us takes within or against it.
Atormentado
Augusto Hermann Francke por torturadoras dudas, decidió invocar a
Dios, a un Dios en que no creía ya, o en quien más bien creía no
creer, para que tuviese piedad de él, del pobre pietista Francke, si
es que existía. Y un estado análogo de ánimo es el que me inspiró
aquel soneto titulado «La oración del ateo», que en mi
Rosario
de sonetos líricos
figura y termina
así:
Sufro yo a tu
costa,
Dios
no existente, pues si tú existieras
existiría
yo también de veras.
Sí,
si existiera el Dios garantizador de nuestra inmortalidad personal,
entonces existiríamos nosotros de veras. ¡Y si no, no!
Aquel
terrible secreto, aquella voluntad oculta de Dios que se traduce en
la predestinación, aquella idea que dictó a Lutero su servum
arbitrium y da su trágico
sentido al calvinismo, aquella duda en la propia salvación, no es en
el fondo, sino la incertidumbre, que aliada a la desesperación forma
la base de la fe. La fe —dicen algunos— es no pensar en ello;
entregarse confiadamente a los brazos de Dios, los secretos de cuya
providencia son inescudriñables. Sí, pero también la infidelidad
es no pensar en ello. Esa fe absurda, esa fe sin sombra de
incertidumbre, esa fe de estúpidos carboneros, se une a la
incredulidad absurda, a la incredulidad sin sombra de incertidumbre,
a la incredulidad de los intelectuales atacados de estupidez
afectiva, para no pensar en ello.
Tormented
by torturous doubts, August Hermann Francke (†) decided to call
upon God, in whom he no longer believed—or in whom he couldn't
believe that he believed, to put it properly—asking the Lord to
have mercy on him, the poor Pietist Francke, if He did in fact exist.
A similar state of mind inspired me to write a sonnet, “The
Atheist's Prayer,” which features in my Rosary of Lyric Sonnets (published in 1911)
and ends like this:
I
suffer, Lord, at thine
expense
Thou God who failest to
exist.
For by my faith, an if thou
didst
Then I too must needs
persist.
Yes.
If God really existed—the
God who guarantees our personal immortality—then
we would also
really exist. But if he be not real, then we are not.
The
terrible secret whose alliance with desperation forms the basis of
our faith: what is it, really? This hidden will of God that manifests
in history as predestination, teaching Luther to limit the freedom of
the will and casting a tragic pall over Calvinism, sowing doubt in
the efficacy of salvation itself (‡)—what is it, if not
uncertainty? Faith, some say, consists in not thinking of it.
Delivering oneself confidently into the arms of God, whose providence
includes mysteries beyond our ken. Yes, but not thinking about
uncertainty is also infidelity. Faith without even a shadow of doubt,
the faith of foolish charcoal-burners, is absurd. This idiotic faith
today unites with idiotic incredulity, the unbelief of intellectuals
smitten with emotional stupidity, in order to avoid thinking of
uncertainty.
---
(†)
Francke (1663-1727) was a devout Lutheran, whose career included
biblical study, public preaching, a chair in Greek and oriental
languages at the University of Halle, and the foundation of a
successful school for orphans (where he taught natural sciences,
manual trades, and gymnastics alongside biblical Latin, Hebrew, and
Greek). While Francke's piety was active, it was not without serious
doubts, as Unamuno notices: he embraced the Pietist teachings of his
friend Philipp Spener, which emphasized personal devotion over
dogmatic belief in theology.
(‡)
Luther wrote a Latin tract on
the bondage of human will (De servo arbitrio, published
in 1525), explaining why Erasmus was wrong to describe our will as
free (in an earlier tract written against Luther: De libero
arbitrio diatribe, published in
1524). Luther's argument: we are incapable of willing the good
on our own; if we do manage to will it, this is only by God's grace.
We have nothing individual or personal to do with it. In like manner,
Calvin taught a doctrine of predestination that made individual
salvation something fated from the moment of creation or conception,
declaring that God chooses whom to redeem and whom to damn, and there
is nothing we can do to alter his choice, which arises from a
position outside time & space, a divine position over which we
have no influence.