Quotable: Consider the Lilies

by Soren Kierkegaard in Judge for Yourself!:

“But the Savior of the world says, as if it were a Sunday afternoon or a holiday, when there is nothing else to do, 'Look at the lilies of the field; consider the birds of the air.' How childlike! How sound and wholesome!”

“. . . Make use of the moment. Be quick to learn—as far as the lily and the bird are concerned, do not worry: they show no signs that soon it is all over. . . . What beneficent peace out there! It is just that for which a person has such a great need, especially that it would be within himself—the peace that is out there with you and is in you, you lily of the field, you bird of the air—the peace that so many real or imagined sorrows and anxieties and afflictions want to upset, the peace that is rest or resting in God.

Pay attention, then, to the bird! It sings and chirps, and chirps—oh, please hear!—in between what it is saying—pay attention to it!—to sorrow, what an old hymn says, 'Yes, yes, tomorrow.' And thus the bird is happy 'today.' Then sorrow thinks, 'Just wait—I will be on the lookout; tomorrow, before dawn and before you have left your nest and before the devil puts on his shoes (for I am up and about even earlier than he; I am one of his servants and heralds who arrive first in order to try to arrange entry for him), then I will come.' And tomorrow—the bird is no longer there. What! It is no longer there? No, it has left; it has gone. 'How could it go? After all, its passport was confiscated, and I’m damned sure it has not departed without a passport.' 'Well, someone must not have kept watch well enough, because it has gone. It left a greeting for you. The last thing it said was, "Say to sorrow: Yes, yes, tomorrow!"' You are indeed clever, you winged traveler, an unrivaled professor in the art of living! . . .”

“And the lily! It is pensive; it inclines its head a little, it shakes its head; it is for sorrow: Yes, yes, tomorrow. And tomorrow the lily has a legitimate excuse for absence; it is not at home, it has gone. The emperor has lost his rights, if he had any, and sorrow may just as well tear the demand to pieces at once—it is not valid. And this makes sorrow so furious that it says: That is not allowed! Ah, to be able to say to sorrow: Yes, yes, tomorrow; and then to be able to remain in that place so calm, lovely in its carefree joy, happier, if possible, over having its jest with sorrow: Tomorrow! To fool it not for a few days, a week—no, to keep on saying to sorrow every time it announces itself: It is too early; you are coming too early; to keep on saying it so long that when it does come it is—too late! What mastery in living! . . .”

“So pay attention to the lily and the bird! Surely there is spirit in nature—especially when the Gospel inspires it, because then nature is pure symbol and pure instruction for man; it, too, is inspired by God and is 'profitable for instruction, for reproof, for correction.'”