Concerning the Moment

A five paragraph essay by Bartolome Bybee

Edited by W Schantz

a local substitute teacher

From its title, Kierkegaard's Johannes Climacus' Philosophical Fragments, or a Fragment of Philosophy suggests the tautologies and repetitions with variation which follow. In the course of the argument, for example, an imaginary reader will repeatedly address the speaker, frequently at the end of sections, frequently in a tone which seems quarrelsome or at least miffed by what he or she takes to be the philosophical rewriting of a well-known biblical story, rather than an original contribution to the edifice of philosophy. The speaker, for his part, seems to acquiesce and welcome these repeated interruptions. Far from claiming originality, Climacus recurs time and again to an important distinction he claims to be already latent in the philosophical-theological heritage, which he only aims to highlight: the distinction between Socratic recollection, prompted by human beings whose souls are informed by truth from all eternity, and the alternative situation in which truth comes to human beings, themselves in untruth, from the god. The latter's incursion into history Climacus terms "the moment". Paradoxically, Climacus recurs time and again to the moment, reinforcing the importance of its paradoxical nature. Clarification comes early and often in the crucial second section of "Thought-Project," asserting that the paradoxical moment plays out in "The Preceding State," in "The Teacher," and in "The Follower" alike. In each case, Climacus concedes that we can dispense with the paradox, perhaps, but not by imagining we are doing anything original, instead only by returning to the Socratic paradigm.

From the initial statement of Socrates' engagement with interlocutors such as Meno, comprising part A. of "Thought-Project," there is an important shift under heading B.: "If the situation is to be different, then the moment in time must have such decisive significance that for no moment will I be able to forget it, neither in time nor in eternity, because the eternal, previously nonexistent, came into existence in that moment" (13). Climacus poetically incorporates the image of the soul traversing eternity, beholding its truth, and denies he could ever forget such an experience, such is its importance, its meaning for him. Thus he has recourse to imagining another possibility: instead of the soul exploring the eternal, could the eternal come into being to sojourn in human existence? Then, in the following paragraph, which opens the account of "The Preceding State," the language of this key presupposition is invoked once more: "Now if the moment is to acquire decisive significance, then the seeker up until that moment must not have possessed the truth, not even in the form of ignorance, for in that case the moment becomes merely the moment of occasion; indeed, he must not even be a seeker" (13). By discarding the category of a forgotten truth of which one is ignorant, of which one can be reminded and go on recollecting in the future, Climacus arrives at the paradoxical conclusion that, as Meno claims, seeking the truth is impossible. Unless we appeal to Socrates' answer, endowing ourselves with eternal knowledge of which we are temporarily unaware, the only possibility that remains is for us is not to seek truth, but to receive it a free gift.
         

When the language of the moment's decisive significance next surfaces, in the section on "The Teacher," more of its paradoxical nature comes more nearly into the open. First, some allowance is made for Socratic teaching, but only for the discovery of one's untruth: "To this act of consciousness, the Socratic principle applies: the teacher is only an occasion, whoever he may be, even if he is a god, because I can discover my own untruth only by myself, because only when I discover it is it discovered" (14). Climacus reserves human agency and free will for something even a god cannot do: limiting his eternal knowledge by untruth, in the first place ("This cannot have been due to an act of the god (for this is a contradiction)" (15)), and accepting the responsibility for this in becoming aware of it (he seems to leave out of consideration the malicious mind-control of Descartes' evil deceiver (see Descartes' Meditations)). Certain contradictions result from the supposition of the god, it seems. The god he has in mind will neither take truth away nor trick the learner into thinking he either does or does not possess it. Truth, for this god, is an interaction limited to giving; this god seems to delight in limitations, as Blake says, "Eternity is in love with the productions of time" (The Marriage of Heaven and Hell). But the learner is not given just the condition of being able to seek truth, for such an act, by Climacus' logical insistence, is inseparable from giving the truth itself. Again, Climacus draws the line: "But insofar as the moment is to have decisive significance (and if this is not assumed, then we do in fact remain with the Socratic), he must lack the condition, consequently be deprived of it" (15).  Again, the learner must have done this to himself, and in so doing, in a sense, it is he or she who has contributed the corresponding possibility for the moment to acquire its supreme importance and meaning. The god may imbue the moment with truth for the learner, since the learner has first cleared room for it by some grave error: "Let us call it sin" (15). It may not sound so good in itself, but the god still brings good out of it: such is the all-encompassing strangeness of the moment.

What finally happens in the moment is what Climacus has postulated from the beginning: "To be sure, it is short and temporal, as the moment is; it is passing, as the moment is, past, as the moment is in the next moment, and yet it is decisive, and yet it is filled with the eternal" (18). What is fascinating here is Climacus' comparing the moment of which he speaks to itself: the moment is as the moment is. In the form of a simile, this echoes the metaphorical name of God: "I am that I am" (or "I will be what I will be," in an equally grammatical translation of Exodus 3:14). The moment of decisive significance is like any other moment, only somehow, paradoxically, it is nothing like them, for it contains the eternal truth, by definition not something which can pass ever, much less in a moment. As the learner encounters the Teacher who makes him or her in his likeness, he or she is profoundly changed: "If, then, the moment is to have decisive significance--and if not, we speak only Socratically, no matter what we say, even though we use many and strange words, even though in our failure to understand ourselves we suppose we have gone beyond that simple wise man who uncompromisingly distinguished between the god, man, and himself...--then the break has occurred, and the person can no longer come back and will find no pleasure in recollecting what remembrance wants to bring him in recollection, and even less will he by his own power be capable of drawing the god over to his side again" (19-20). Part of this likeness, evidently, is to be made paradoxical ourselves, rather than simple; perhaps even to become foolish rather than wise; even, it seems, to become lonely at times and wanting the god's companionship, despite knowing that eternally we are not alone.

Shortly after this point the "Thought-Project" breaks off with the interjections of some other reader or listener. In the same way, subsequent sections, well worth patient attention for their development and circling back upon the ideas laid out in the opening chapter, will likewise culminate in abbreviated dialogues between the speaker and his hearers. There is an echo of Platonic dialogue there, and in some small way, the present essay represents a further voice's piping up in that ongoing conversation. In refocusing our attention time and again upon the moment, first as a presupposition in contrast with the Socratic response of recollection and ultimately as a postulate of faith in contrast with the promises of Kierkegaard's contemporaries' systematic philosophy, Climacus invites reflections upon time and eternity, the one and the many, the nature of good and evil, or human nature and divine--all of the perennial paradoxical problems one could imagine. Yet by compressing them into the moment, the most ordinary and constant term of our presence in the world, he poses us a critical prompt for action, too, whether to learn or to teach, to listen or to respond, or, as he and his mysterious interlocutor say, to "stand here before the wonder" (36).

Work cited

Climacus, J. Kierkegaard and Hong and Hong, eds. Philosophical Fragments. That green one I'm pretty sure you have, too, and you can google the other references like I did :)

I made this in-class essay yesterday at Brian's request. It seems like there's more about the moment in The Concept of Anxiety, too, so I should find a copy of that to read.

(EDIT)
And here's Brian's suggestion for more conciseness, his rewrite of the first paragraph and my edits of the other four:

Kierkegaard begins the repetitive and tautological variations of _Philosophical Fragments, or a Fragment of Philosophy_ in the title itself.  A shard of a jar is not a jar full of shards, yet a fragment of philosophy is a philosophy of fragments.  The imaginary reader, in the imagination of K's imaginary author Johannes Climacus, often addresses the "author" in a quarrelsome way, affronted by what seems to be a mere rewriting of the bible.  The speaker welcomes these interruptions.  Climacus himself refers recurrently to the distinction between Socratic recollection and divine revelation.  Recollection (itself a self-reflective fragment of philosophy) springs from humans with eternal souls, remembering themselves, while revelation comes from God, who alone possesses true eternal knowledge.  This incursion into history we term "the moment".  Paradoxically, Climacus recurs time and again to the moment.  Kierkegaard is full to the brim of humor and himself.  To proceed, we cease originality, merely returning  to the Socratic paradigm. 

From the "either" in part A. of "Thought-Project," we come to the "or" in part B.: "If the situation is to be different, then the moment in time must have such decisive significance that for no moment will I be able to forget it, neither in time nor in eternity, because the eternal, previously nonexistent, came into existence in that moment" (13). Instead of the soul exploring the eternal, could the eternal come into human form? This question drives the account of "The Preceding State": "Now if the moment is to acquire decisive significance, then the seeker up until that moment must not have possessed the truth, not even in the form of ignorance, for in that case the moment becomes merely the moment of occasion; indeed, he must not even be a seeker" (13). Climacus arrives at the paradoxical conclusion that, as Meno claims, seeking the truth is impossible. Unless we appeal to Socratic recollection, we do not seek truth, but receive it: a free gift.

In "The Teacher," more of the significance, and paradox, of the moment comes into the open. First, Socratic teaching does permit the discovery of one's untruth: "To this act of consciousness, the Socratic principle applies: the teacher is only an occasion, whoever he may be, even if he is a god, because I can discover my own untruth only by myself, because only when I discover it is it discovered" (14). There is something the god cannot do: to limit his eternal knowledge by untruth. Only humans can do that. The god neither takes truth away from us nor deceives us, but leaves us free to do both. This god is limited to giving; the god delights in limitations, as Blake says: "Eternity is in love with the productions of time" (The Marriage of Heaven and Hell). Giving the ability to seek truth, Climacus insists, is tantamount to giving the truth itself. Again, he draws the line: "But insofar as the moment is to have decisive significance (and if this is not assumed, then we do in fact remain with the Socratic), he must lack the condition, consequently be deprived of it" (15).  The learner's deprivation allows the moment to acquire its supreme importance. The god gives truth in a moment since the learner has first cleared room for it there by some grave error: "Let us call it sin" (15). But truth brings good out of evil: such is the all-encompassing strangeness of the moment.

In the moment, what actually happens? "To be sure, it is short and temporal, as the moment is; it is passing, as the moment is, past, as the moment is in the next moment, and yet it is decisive, and yet it is filled with the eternal" (18). Climacus compares the moment to itself: the moment is as the moment. The simile echoes the metaphorical name of God: "I am that I am" (or "I will be what I will be," in another translation of Exodus 3:14). The moment of decisive significance is like any other moment, only somehow, paradoxically, it contains the eternal truth, that which can never pass, much less in a moment. When the Teacher makes the learner in His likeness, he or she is profoundly changed: "If, then, the moment is to have decisive significance--and if not, we speak only Socratically, no matter what we say, even though we use many and strange words, even though in our failure to understand ourselves we suppose we have gone beyond that simple wise man who uncompromisingly distinguished between the god, man, and himself...--then the break has occurred, and the person can no longer come back and will find no pleasure in recollecting what remembrance wants to bring him in recollection, and even less will he by his own power be capable of drawing the god over to his side again" (19-20). Part of this likeness, evidently, is to be made paradoxical ourselves. We become foolish rather than wise. We want companionship despite knowing that we are never alone.

The "Thought-Project" breaks off with an imaginary reader's response. In the same way, subsequent sections culminate in abbreviated dialogues circling back upon themselves. If there is an echo of Platonic dialogue there, the present essay represents a further voice piping up. In refocusing our attention time and again upon the moment, first as a presupposition in contrast with Socratic recollection and ultimately as a postulate of faith, Climacus invites us to reflect upon time and eternity, the one and the many, the nature of good and evil, human nature and the divine. By compressing eternity into a moment, the most ordinary and constant term of our presence in the world, he poses us a critical prompt for action, too, whether to learn or to teach, to listen or to respond, or, as he and his mysterious interlocutor say, to "stand here before the wonder" (36).

So I hope that's a little better. And we had a great conversation about Plato's Meno for reading group this month, after some confusion about where to meet ending up back at Bellwether on the patio and counting Liz and Yvonne and Charles among our number, wrestling with the distinction between judgment and faith when it comes to true opinion rather than knowledge, or naming the diagonal once you manage to see it and what it means, despite never being able to measure it rationally. This summer will pick on the last, with Purgatorio!