KSRK: Quidam’s Diary (May 21st, 22nd and 25th)

Besides the customary, torturous (and tortured) reflections on his relationship with his beloved, in the May 21st entry Quidam includes some startling insights into prayer. The comments of May 22nd make it more difficult to determine the exact nature of their relationship, and in the paragraph for May 25th includes a number of metaphor that ends with a comparison to Adam in Eden.

May 21. Quidam begins by quoting Solomon (subject of the March 5th entry), “There is nothing new under the son”, and then claims that if his “pain were rich in incident … then it would have some interest.” And then almost self-deprecatingly admits, “But my suffering is boring.” After quoting Horace, reflecting on what a long journey might mean for he and his fiancée, and making much of the evocation of eternity by the single strike of a bell at one o’clock, he then reflects further on the nature of boredom:

God in heaven is not disgusted with what is boring. It is supposed to be a duty to pray, it is supposed to be beneficial to pray, there are supposed to be three reasons, perhaps even four, for praying. I have no intention of depriving anyone of his reasons; he is welcome to keep them if only I may keep daring to pray as something so inspiring that in a far deeper sense than Plato and Aristotle one can say that wonder is the starting point of knowledge.

Furthermore,

God in heaven is the only one who does not become weary of listening to a human being. And this holy wonder in turn will keep the one who is praying from thinking whether he receives what he is praying about.

Could someone have written this without having spent many long hours in prayer? They strike me as very humble observations about prayer. As does this comment, just a few sentences later:

But if one understands to the point of wonder – indeed, to the point where wonder shipwrecks one’s understanding – that it is a favor, then arguments are perceived to be not necessary, either, for it is only the problematic that is commended by arguments.

I’m not sure what he means by “it is only the problematic that is commended by arguments.” ‘Wonder’ was the beginning of knowledge above, so it seems reasonable to think that this wonder invoked by prayer is the beginning of knowledge of God. But this wonder ‘shipwrecks one’s understanding’, and it seems we are back where we started. On the other hand, this is a ‘favor’ because ‘arguments are perceived to be not necessary,’ since ‘it is only the problematic that is commended by arguments.’ My understanding of this is that God is unapproachable by argument precisely because he invokes in the one praying a sense of wonder that ‘shipwrecks’ understanding.

If the one praying or thinking considers god to be that which is problematic, he misses the mark entirely. God is absolute, and therefore beyond human knowing:

Every external reflection eo ipso nullifies prayer, be it reflection squinting at the temporal advantage or be it reflection on the individual himself and his relation to others, as if a man were so earnest that he could not pray within himself and alone but had to step forward and benefit the whole congregation with his intercession and his example as one who prays…

I wonder. I’m reminded of Psalm 4 (verse 4), as a kind of corrective:

When I call, you give heed, O Lord, righteous God;
free me from my anguish, pity, hear my prayer.

How long will they all remain hard of heart'?
How long will their lies and their vanity endure?

Remember, the Lord does wonders for his friends,
the Lord will hear when I call on his name.

Do not sin but tremble;
as you lie on your bed, in silence reflect,
offer praise and worship, trust in the Lord.

Many sigh as they pray: Lord, show us your joy;
when shall we see the light of your face?

In my heart you have poured the fullness of joy,
far richer than their harvests of corn and wine.

In peace I lie down and sleep comes at once,
for you, Lord, alone, keep my life secure.

May 22. She laughs, he shudders. She pleads and cries, and he prattles. He feels as if jabbed where the most delicate nerves are, though he continues as if in earnest. Eventually her passion flares again, and “its violence shows [him] that [his] approach will contribute to working her afloat.”

May 25. A chillingly beautiful passage:

Recollect her I dare not. If death had separated us as it separates lovers, if she had broken with me, then I would dare to recollect what was beautiful and lovely, every moment that was once happy for us. Then when spring youthfully breaks into bud, I would remember her; when the foliage throws its shadow, I would rest in the recollection of her; in the evening when the summer mists gather, I would see her image; beside the quiet lake, when the reeds whisper, I would be reminded of her; along the seashore, when the ship is coming in, I would imagine that I would meet her until the monotonous waves rocked me away into recollection; at my favorite old café I would seek a vestige of it and often, often deceive myself, as if I were going to her. But I dare not. For me there is no change of the seasons, just as for me there is no change; recollection does not bloom and blossom in my hands; it is like a judgment hanging over me, or like a mysterious sign, the meaning of which I am not quite sure. Indeed, did Adam dare to recollect Eden; did he dare, when he saw thistle and thorns at his feet, did he dare to say to Eve: No! It was not like this in Eden. In Eden, oh, do you recollect? Did Adam dare to do this? Even less do I.

A few brief comments. I wrote ‘chillingly beautiful,’ because he clearly states that if death had separated us as it separates lovers, if she had broken with me, then I would dare to recollect… Note also that the time of recollection is in Spring; not, as I think would be more common, in Fall or Winter. This, like the just mentioned ‘death’, makes the recollection which follows almost too beautiful, considering what he claims to be the only way he could thus recollect . Furthermore, he claims that this recollection would be a way for him to deceive himself, which means that ‘here’ he does not. I do find one aspect of this passage confusing. ‘Here’ it is not spring; the seasons do not change at all, ‘just as for [him] there is no change,’ and yet he also compares to Adam after his exile from Eden: “when he saw thistles and thorns at his feet, did he dare to say to Eve: No! It was not like this in Eden. In Eden, oh, do you recollect?” I’m confused here by the way he uses of Eden. Could he be referring to an earlier time in their engagement? And if it was not like this, what was it?

Still, there is an evocation of something truly awful, awe-full, in this description of recollection, even terrifying.