So much for Mynster. As for Martensen, Kierkegaard maintained that
one of the more important motives behind hismemorial sermonhad been to
make sure that Martensen himselfwas rememberedin connection with the
vacant episcopal chair; that is, Martensen’s actions had simply been a tactic
dictated by a crass worldly concern for his own ecclesiastical career. Kier-
kegaard’s remarks contained a libelous pun which Kierkegaard himself pre-
sumably cherished and which in any case was a source of amusement in
certain circles in the city. Martensen’s sermon had also said quite a bit about
the importance of “following”—implicitly, of course, followingChrist—
and he had repeatedly accentuated the importance of continuity: “Christ’s
spirit remains, even though it acts through various instrumentalities and
gifts,” and therefore the Lord “will always arm himself with the instrumen-
talities necessary for the edification of his congregation.” Kierkegaard was
not slow to exploit a malicious association, linking being a follower of Christ
with being Mynster’s follower in the office of bishop; furthermore, Kier-
kegaard wrote, what Martensen was doing was nothing more than “playing
at Christianity,” just as “a child plays at being a soldier.”
“To Bring About a Catastrophe”
Kierkegaard had been in doubt, right up to the last minute, about what
form the attac kought to ta ke. Ought he begin by criticizing Martensen for
his dubious use of the term “witness to the truth?” Or would it be better
to begin with the “Outcry,” a little piece that warned against participating
in official religious services? The upshot of Kierkegaard’s reflections was
that the “Outcry” would have to wait its turn. And in any event, Kierke-
gaard was not yet finished with the two broadsheets that were supposed to
accompany that piece, so it did not appear until May 24, 1855, under the
title “This Must Be Said.” In Kierkegaard’s view, the catastrophic effect he
had intended would probably have been achieved more fully if that piece
had appeared first, but there was a very special problem in this connection.
He wrote in a December 1854 journal entry that “if I dared to accompany
my actions with commentary explaining the clever purposefulness behind
the entire project, I would enjoy great success—but fail completely in my
task.” The campaign itself “must appear to be a sort of madness (because
without this we do not get the passions set in motion, the fires lit).” A
couple of days later, under the heading “Catastrophe,” the journals contain
the following dramatic manifesto: “How can a catastrophe be produced in
the realm of the spirit? Quite simply by omitting several intermediate steps,
by setting forth a conclusion without providing the premises, by showing
the consequence without first indicating what it is a consequence of, and