Category: History

Exploring the Parallel Origins of Pietism and Absurdism

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

— William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II

The Thinker
Auguste Rodin (French, 1840–1917)
Bronze, c. 1880
Collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art

Introduction

Throughout intellectual history, certain movements emerge as responses to profound existential challenges, particularly in times of crisis when traditional sources of authority and meaning prove inadequate. Pietism, a religious movement within 17th and 18th-century Lutheranism, and Absurdism, a philosophical outlook articulated in the 20th century by figures such as Albert Camus, represent two such responses. At first glance, these movements may appear to occupy separate universes: Pietism, with its emphasis on personal spirituality and divine relationship, seems rooted in religious conviction, while Absurdism, especially as developed by Camus, confronts the inherent meaninglessness of life, proposing a defiant acceptance of the absurd. Yet, beneath these surface differences lies a shared psychological strategy for coping with the limitations of human existence. Both movements involve an internal retreat to assert autonomy and agency in the face of external authority, ultimately rejecting or reinterpreting the concept of control over what life presents.

This essay explores the deep connections between Pietism and Absurdism, arguing that both movements, despite their different contexts and expressions, engage in a similar process of internal retreat and reframing of meaning. By analyzing the historical and philosophical underpinnings of each movement, as well as their respective responses to crises of autonomy, we can uncover the unexpected parallels between them. Through this comparison, we gain a deeper understanding of how individuals and communities navigate the challenges of existence, finding ways to create meaning and assert control in a world that often seems indifferent or hostile to their aspirations.

I. The Historical Contexts of Pietism and Absurdism

To fully appreciate the parallels between Pietism and Absurdism, it is essential to consider the historical contexts from which they emerged. Pietism arose in the aftermath of the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), a conflict that devastated much of Central Europe, particularly the German states. This war, one of the most destructive in European history, left the region in ruins, with a shattered economy, deep social fragmentation, and widespread spiritual despair. In this context, the institutional Lutheran Church, which had been a source of spiritual and social cohesion, was increasingly perceived as distant and disconnected from the immediate needs of its congregants. Philipp Jakob Spener, often considered the father of Pietism, called for a return to a more personal and heartfelt form of Christianity. Spener’s vision emphasized personal piety, the cultivation of the inner life, and a direct, unmediated relationship with God as the means of spiritual renewal.

Similarly, Camus’ philosophy of Absurdism was shaped by the profound existential crises brought on by world wars, particularly World War II. Writing in occupied France, Camus grappled with the moral and philosophical implications of a world plunged into chaos by unprecedented violence and suffering. The horrors of the war, including the Holocaust and widespread destruction, shattered many of the moral, religious, and philosophical certainties that had underpinned Western thought. In this context, Camus developed his concept of the absurd—the recognition that life is inherently devoid of meaning, a reality that can lead to either despair or rebellion. In his seminal essay The Myth of Sisyphus (1942), Camus presents Sisyphus, the mythological figure condemned to endlessly push a boulder up a hill only to see it roll back down, as the archetype of the absurd hero. Sisyphus’ rebellion lies in his acceptance of the futility of his task and his decision to find joy in the struggle itself. This defiant embrace of the absurd becomes, for Camus, a model of how to live meaningfully in a world that offers no intrinsic meaning.

Despite the centuries that separate them, the historical contexts of Pietism and Absurdism reveal a striking similarity: both movements emerged in response to the devastation and moral ambiguity wrought by catastrophic wars. The Thirty Years’ War and World War II, though vastly different in scale and nature, each led to a profound crisis of meaning. In both cases, the established structures of meaning—whether religious, political, or philosophical—seemed inadequate to address the realities of a world torn apart by violence and chaos. In response, both Pietists and Absurdists turned inward, seeking to create or rediscover meaning within the self, rather than in the external world.

II. Internal Retreat and the Assertion of Autonomy

Central to both Pietism and Absurdism is the concept of an internal retreat as a response to the recognition of powerlessness in the face of external forces. For the Pietist, this retreat involves a rejection of the institutional structures of the church, which were perceived as corrupt or spiritually empty, in favor of a direct and personal relationship with God. This inward turn was a deliberate choice to reclaim agency in a world that was often hostile as well as spiritually barren and controlled by external secular and spiritual authorities that offered little true solace. The Pietist’s focus on personal piety, repentance, and the cultivation of the inner life was not merely a withdrawal from the world but a strategic redefinition of what it meant to live a meaningful life.

Similarly, Absurdism posits that the external world is indifferent, and often hostile, to human aspirations, and that any search for absolute meaning or purpose is ultimately futile. Faced with this reality, the Absurdist retreats inward, choosing to assert autonomy by creating personal meaning through their actions and attitudes, even in the absence of any inherent purpose. This internal retreat is exemplified in the figure of Sisyphus, whose rebellion against the absurdity of his situation is not an attempt to escape his fate but to find meaning in the struggle itself. By embracing the absurd and rejecting the false comforts of external validation or hope, the Absurdist asserts control over their own experience of life.

In both Pietism and Absurdism, the internal retreat is a means of asserting autonomy in a world where external control is impossible. The Pietist’s decision to focus on a personal relationship with God, and the Absurdist’s choice to find meaning in the act of living itself, are both expressions of a deep-seated need to reclaim agency in the face of overwhelming external assaults and constraints. This retreat into the self allows both the Pietist and the Absurdist to create a sense of purpose and meaning that is independent of the external world, even as they acknowledge the limitations of their control over that world.

III. Reframing Meaning: The Creation of Purpose

A key aspect of both Pietism and Absurdism is the reframing of meaning in response to the recognition that external sources of validation are inadequate or non-existent. For the Pietist, this reframing involves a shift away from the traditional markers of religious authority and success—such as adherence to doctrine or participation in ritual—and towards the cultivation of personal piety and a “direct relationship with God.” This reorientation of values allows the Pietist himself or herself to define what it means to live a meaningful life, focusing on the internal transformation that comes from spiritual devotion rather than on external adherence, achievements, or recognition.

In Absurdism, the reframing of meaning involves a rejection of the notion that life has any inherent purpose or value. Instead, the Absurdist creates meaning through their own actions and attitudes, embracing the struggle of existence as the only source of true fulfillment. This process of meaning-making is deeply personal and likewise self-directed, relying on the individual’s ability to find joy and purpose in the act of living itself, rather than in the pursuit of some ultimate goal. For the Absurdist, meaning is not something that can be discovered in the world, but something that must be created from within.

Both movements, therefore, involve a similar process of reframing meaning in response to the limitations of external validation. The Pietist’s focus on personal spirituality and the Absurdist’s embrace of life’s struggles both represent ways of creating meaning that are independent of external authority or recognition. In this sense, both movements can be seen as responses to the same existential crisis—the realization that the external world offers little in the way of inherent meaning or purpose—and as attempts to reclaim control over one’s own experience of life.

IV. Absurdism with a Defined Purpose? A Pietist Perspective

One of the most intriguing aspects of the comparison between Pietism and Absurdism is the question of whether Pietism can be understood as a form of Absurdism with a defined purpose. The Pietist’s commitment to a personal relationship with God, and the self-directed study of the Bible (as opposed to clerically mediated study), could be seen as an “absurd” response to the same existential reality that the Absurdist confronts—the lack of inherent meaning in the world. In this light, the Pietist’s purpose is a chosen framework within which they navigate life, much like the Absurdist who chooses to live fully and autonomously despite recognizing the absurdity of existence.

From a Pietist perspective, the Absurdist’s rejection of predefined purpose might be viewed as a form of self-delusion. The act of living, even without a declared purpose, imposes a structure, a boundary within which life is conducted. In this sense, the Absurdist’s choice to embrace life’s struggles without seeking external validation could be seen as indistinguishable from the Pietist’s choice to live according to their spiritual principles. Both are volitional acts, grounded in the need to define one’s existence in a world where external authorities offer little guidance or control.

This perspective raises the possibility that the distinction between Pietism and Absurdism may be less significant than it initially appears. Both movements involve a retreat into self-definition, where the individual creates meaning and purpose in response to a world that offers little in the way of inherent validation. Whether that purpose is found in a personal relationship with God, or in the conscious embrace of life’s struggles, both the Pietist and the Absurdist are engaged in the same fundamental process of creating meaning within the constraints of an uncontrollable external reality.

V. The Interplay of Rebellion, Resignation, and Autonomy

The interplay of rebellion, resignation, and autonomy in Pietism and Absurdism reveals a complex psychological response to the challenges of the human condition. Both movements engage in a form of rebellion against external circumstances—whether it is the chaos and harshness of the provincial German states and the related materialism and formalism of the Lutheran Church or the meaninglessness of the universe. This rebellion is not about changing the external world but about asserting control over one’s internal life and creating a sense of meaning that is independent of external validation.

At the same time, both Pietism and Absurdism involve a form of resignation—a recognition of the limitations imposed by the external world. This resignation is not a passive surrender but a deliberate choice to focus on what is within one’s control. For the Pietists, this meant turning inward and cultivating a personal relationship with God. For Sisyphus and the Absurdists, it meant embracing the struggle itself and finding contentment in the act of living. This resignation is a key part of the psychological strategy that allows individuals to navigate a world that otherwise offers little in the way of inherent meaning and satisfaction.

Resilience Through Rebellion and Resignation

The psychological resilience observed in both Pietism and Absurdism stems from their ability to reinterpret adversity and find strength in internal resources. The Pietists’ resilience was anchored in their faith and their personal relationship with God, allowing them to navigate a world that seemed increasingly hostile to their material interests and spiritual values. By focusing on spiritual transformation and personal piety, they found stability and purpose that transcended the material world’s limitations.

For Camus’ absurd hero and himself, resilience is achieved through the acceptance of life’s inherent meaninglessness and the conscious decision to live fully within those constraints. Sisyphus’ act of pushing the boulder, despite its futility, becomes a metaphor for human resilience. The hero’s strength lies not in overcoming the absurd but in embracing it and finding contentment in the act of living itself. This resilience is a form of defiance against the absurdity of existence, an assertion that life’s challenges, no matter how insurmountable they may seem, do not diminish the value of living.

Creating Meaning Within Constraints

Both Pietism and Absurdism advocate for creating meaning within the constraints of a world that offers little in the way of inherent purpose. For the Pietists, this meaning is found in their spiritual journey and their relationship with God, which provide a framework for understanding and navigating life’s challenges. The Pietist’s rejection of worldly concerns in favor of personal piety represents a deliberate choice to focus on what is within their control—their spiritual life—rather than being overwhelmed by the external world’s demands.

Similarly, the absurd hero, and those who emulate him, create meaning through the very act of living, despite the absence of any ultimate purpose. For Camus, the struggle itself becomes the source of meaning, as the individual engages with life on their own terms, rejecting the notion that life’s value must come from outside themselves. This act of meaning-making is entirely self-directed and deeply personal, reflecting a commitment to autonomy and agency in the face of a purposeless universe.

The connection between Pietism and Absurdism lies in this shared emphasis on creating meaning from within, rather than seeking it in the external world. Both movements recognize that the world is full of limitations and constraints, but they also assert that individuals have the power to define their own sense of purpose and fulfillment. This focus on internal resources—whether spiritual or existential—highlights the importance of personal autonomy and resilience in navigating life’s challenges.

VI. Conclusion

In examining the shared themes between Pietism and Absurdism, we find that both movements, though arising from different historical and philosophical contexts, reflect a fundamental human response to the limitations of existence. Both engage in an internal retreat to assert autonomy and create meaning within a world that offers little external validation or control. Whether through a personal relationship with God or the embrace of life’s inherent struggles, both the Pietist and the Absurdist find ways to live meaningfully and resiliently within the constraints of their respective circumstances.

Ultimately, Pietism and Absurdism reveal that the human quest for meaning and purpose transcends specific religious or philosophical frameworks. Both movements offer valuable insights into how individuals can navigate the challenges of existence, finding ways to assert control and create meaning within the limitations imposed by the external world. By comparing these two seemingly disparate approaches, we gain a deeper understanding of the universal human experience and the strategies we use to make sense of our place in the world.

[The draft essay above was inspired by two recent posts—one discussing Isaiah Berlin’s reflections on the origins of Pietism, and another examining the Proto-Indo-European root Skei- and its derivatives, which led me to a consideration of Absurdism. It occurred to me that these two movements, though seemingly distinct, seem to blossom from similar impulses. This initial exploration of that possibility is promising.

A more comprehensive exploration, currently exceeding twenty pages with a substantial bibliography, is in progress. Whether the project evolves further depends on whether the ideas presented here bear fragrant fruit or wither on the vine.]

The Influence of German Pietism: Lessons for Historical and Contemporary Scenarios

“The Ancient of Days” (frontispiece to Europe A Prophecy, 1794) by William Blake (1757-1827) The William Blake Archive

Giambattista Vico (1668–1744), Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803), and Johann Georg Hamann (1730–1788) may be obscure names to many, and their writings equally impenetrable, but they are nonetheless important to numerous academic disciplines, many of which I study. Consequently, many of the scholarly tomes and articles I read frequently mention these gentlemen, with whom I have thus become somewhat acquainted.

This past week, I have been revisiting The Roots of Romanticism (Princeton University Press, 2013) by Isaiah Berlin (1909–1997). The aforementioned scholars make their obligatory appearances, as do men more famous and more obscure. It was, however, when Berlin sought to set the stage for a lesser-known figure by discussing the genesis of the Pietist movement in the German lands in the 17th and 18th centuries, that the inspiration for today’s post took root.

Berlin, prone to sweeping observations—both historical and psychological—offers fascinating insights into the rise of the Pietist movement, insights that merit reflection and may well extend to contemporary parallels. He posits that, during this era, German culture was largely provincialized: “There was no Paris, there was no centre, there was no life, there was no pride, there was no sense of growth, dynamism and power. German culture drifted either into extreme scholastic pedantry of a Lutheran kind—minute but rather dry scholarship—or in the direction of the inner life of the human soul. This was no doubt stimulated by Lutheranism as such, but particularly by the fact that there was a kind of huge national inferiority complex, which began at that period, vis-à-vis the French, this brilliant glittering State which had managed to crush and humiliate this great country which dominated the science and the arts, and all the provinces of human life, with a kind of arrogance and success unexampled hitherto” (Berlin, 42).

Berlin then notes that the Pietist movement, a branch of Lutheranism, became deeply embedded in the German lands. He describes the movement as possessing a passion for a meticulous study of the Bible, a profound respect for the personal relationship between man and God, an emphasis on the spiritual life, and a contempt for learning, ritual, and form. Moreover, the movement placed “tremendous stress upon the individual relationship of the suffering human soul with its maker” (Berlin, 43).

Berlin does not mince words in his assessment of the outcome:

“This was a very grand form of sour grapes. If you cannot obtain from the world that which you really desire, you must teach yourself not to want it. If you cannot get what you want, you must teach yourself to want what you can get. This is a very frequent form of spiritual retreat in depth, into a kind of inner citadel, in which you try to lock yourself up against all the fearful ills of the world. The king of my province—the prince—confiscates my land: I do not want to own land. The prince does not wish to give me rank: rank is trivial, unimportant. The king has robbed me of my possessions: possessions are nothing. My children have died of malnutrition and disease: earthly attachments, even love of children, are as nothing before love of God. And so forth. You gradually hedge yourself round with a kind of tight wall by which you seek to reduce your vulnerable surface—you want to be as little wounded as possible. Every kind of wound has been heaped upon you, and therefore you wish to contract yourself into the smallest possible area, so that as little of you as possible is exposed to further wounds.” He concludes that “[t]his is the mood in which the German Pietists operated” (Berlin, 44).

The above is striking, as it applies, in my view, to many historical, contemporary, and even personal scenarios. For the latter, I need only consider my post entitled Poetic Reflections: Exploring the Fortress of the Mind. Indeed, I see connections and relevance everywhere.

Vincent of Beauvais and the Evolution of Book Indexing

Vincent of Beauvais

Conveniences commonplace today were once novel. In this regard, today let us remember with gratitude Vincent of Beauvais, who died in 1264 AD, for making access to to the content of books easier. He is credited as having been the first writer to systematically provide indexes for his works, a trend which others eventually followed. He added an index to every single book of his Speculum historiale after 1244. This kind of apparatus only spread more widely in the field of historical writing during the fourteenth century, beginning with the Tabula secundum litterarum ordinem alphabeti on the same work by Vincent, composed by Jean Hautfuney in Avignon around 1320. Thank you, Vincent!

Source: Kujawiński, J. (2015). Commenting on historical writings in medieval Latin Europe: A reconnaissance. Acta Poloniae Historica, Volume 112, 169. Especially see footnote 26, which states the following: “See the study and edition by Monique Paulmier, ‘Jean Hautfuney, Tabula super Speculum historiale fratris Vincentii’, Spicae. Cahiers de l’Atelier Vincent de Beauvais, Nouvelle série, 2 (1980), 19–263 (on Vincent’s indexes, see 20–3), and ibidem, 3 (1981), 5–208. Both Vincent’s and Jean’s indexes are discussed within the history of medieval historiography by Guenée, Histoire et culture historique, 232–7, and within the history of medieval indexes by Olga Weijers, ‘Les index au Moyen Âge sont-ils un genre littéraire?’ in Leonardi, Morelli, Santi (eds.), Fabula in tabula, 11–22, here: 20–1, and il. 5.”

Nietzsche, Proust, and My Antiquarian Self

Recently, I mentioned that I had read Friedrich Nietzsche’s “On the Use and Abuse of History.” My rough and tumble summary is as follows:

In “On the Uses and Abuses of History,” Nietzsche delineates three principal approaches to history: monumental, antiquarian, and critical. He argues that each methodology serves distinct purposes and carries unique implications for the perception and utilization of historical knowledge.

Monumental History: This approach venerates history as a continuum of extraordinary deeds and eminent individuals, offering inspiration for present and future endeavors. It emphasizes the perpetuity of greatness, encouraging individuals to aspire to the achievements of historical giants. Nietzsche asserts that by demonstrating what was once attainable remains within the realm of possibility that monumental history acts as a powerful motivational force.

Antiquarian History: Antiquarian history esteems the past for its own intrinsic value, driven by reverence and loyalty. It concentrates on the preservation of customs, traditions, and artifacts, fostering a sense of continuity and belonging. Nietzsche argues that this approach is indispensable for cultivating a collective memory and identity and providing comfort and a sense of rootedness within a historical continuum.

Critical History: Critical history is characterized by its evaluative and interrogative stance towards the past. It enables individuals and societies to extricate themselves from outdated or oppressive traditions, serving as a liberating force that facilitates progress. Nietzsche states that by challenging and reassessing historical narratives, critical history promotes a dynamic and progressive engagement with the past.

Balancing These Approaches: Nietzsche stresses that equilibrium among these historical approaches is essential for an appropriate engagement with history. An overemphasis on monumental history may lead to the undue glorification of the past, which stifles innovation. Conversely, an excessive focus on antiquarian history risks engendering a stagnant conservatism resistant to necessary change and progress. Additionally, overreliance on critical history can result in destructive cynicism and a disconnection from one’s heritage. A balanced historical perspective integrates the aspirational qualities of monumental history, the conserving virtues of antiquarian history, and the emancipatory critique of critical history. This synthesis fosters a society that respects its past, cherishes its heritage, and remains receptive to change and improvement.

My introduction to Nietzsche’s characterizations of historical approaches was revelatory, as it revealed much about my own approaches and reactions to history and historical objects. It also clarified the occasional disconnect I experience when engaging with contemporary historical studies, methodologies, and historians. In brief, I perceive that the current academic climate exhibits a pronounced imbalance, favoring critical history.[1] This predominance serves the interests of individual academicians and ideologues, rather than the broader objectives of history or society. Conversely, within the realm of political society, there is a noticeable tilt towards monumental history, almost entirely neglecting antiquarian and critical perspectives, which poses significant risks. Interestingly, I find myself slightly imbalanced in the Nietzschean sense, perhaps excessively favoring antiquarian history, thereby rendering myself somewhat out of step with both the Academy and political society. The quest for balance is imperative.

However, the aforementioned observations merely serve as a prelude to the more profound enlightenment I experienced while delving into Nietzsche’s concept of antiquarian history. In a particularly insightful article by Stephen Bann, entitled “Clio in Part: On Antiquarianism and the Historical Fragment,” published in 1987, I encountered a truly remarkable quote from Marcel Proust. This quotation elucidated, with striking clarity, my perspectives on literature, history, historical artifacts (including coins), and my self-identification as an antiquarian. It profoundly articulated the essence of what this self-identification entails and reinforced my understanding of my approach to these fields.

To provide a fitting introduction for individuals unfamiliar with the work from which I take Proust’s quote, which is to follow, it is essential to contextualize Proust’s reflections on the imaginative power of antiquities. In “Contre Sainte-Beuve,” a collection of essays in which Marcel Proust critiques the method of literary criticism employed by Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, he vividly describes how historical imagination can transform our perception of ancient sites, such as the fictional estate of Guermantes. Guermantes, a recurring symbol in Proust’s magnum opus “In Search of Lost Time,” represents an idealized vision of the past, embodying the timelessness and continuity of history. The following excerpt from “Contre Sainte-Beuve” beautifully captures the essence of this transformation, illustrating how the past and present converge through the lens of imagination:

“And if Guermantes does not disappoint one as all imagined things do when reduced to reality; this is undoubtedly because at no time is it a real place, because even when one is walking about in it, one feels that the things one sees there are merely the wrappings of other things, that reality lies, not in this present but far elsewhere, that the stone under one’s hand is no more than a metaphor of Time; and the imagination feeds on Guermantes visited as it fed on Guermantes described because all these things are still only words, everything is a splendid figure of speech that means something else…. As for the castle towers, I tell you they are not only of that date, they are still in it. This is what stirs one’s heart when one looks at them. People always account for the emotional quality of old buildings by saying how much they must have seen in their time. Nothing could be more untrue. Look at the towers of Guermantes; they still look down on Queen Matilda’s cavalcade, on their dedication by Charles the Bad. They have seen nothing since. The moment when things exist is determined by the consciousness that reflects them; at that moment, they become ideas and are given their form; and their form, in its perpetuity, prolongs one century through the midst of others.”[2]

That final sentence resonates with me profoundly, both emotionally and instinctively. It elucidates why I have often conveyed to friends and family that, despite not having physically traversed great distances in my lifetime, I have, in truth, journeyed to more places and temporalities than almost anyone I know. This has been achieved through my extensive readings and the curation of my collections.

It also illuminates why, nearly twenty-five years ago, when a beloved friend and colleague faced a life-threatening health condition, I found it fitting to send her an antique silver Ethiopian Coptic Cross from my collection. This cross, approximately a century old, was likely crafted from silver originating from a Maria Theresa Trade Thaler. Accompanying the cross was a note explaining that, although it resided in my collection as an antiquarian item, it was made by the Faithful, for the Faithful, to aid the Faithful in prayer. Thus, the aura of its origin and use still imbued it with a sacred presence, which she, as one of the Faithful seeking prayer, would find comforting during that critical time. The words of Proust, I believe, provide a more cogent explanation of what I, ever the antiquarian, attempted to convey in my letter.

[1] A powerful discussion of the current imbalance in the Academy, with its excessive favoring of critical history and the attendant detrimental societal affects, is found in an essay by Julian Young. Unfortunately, the essay, which has a convincing introduction and general analysis of the situation, suffers horribly from poor analysis in the section entitled The Anxieties of Youth and fails absolutely in the particulars of its conclusion, which approaches an ideological agenda despite its disclaimers. The essay is still recommended for it strong beginnings as it only goes off the rails towards the very end. Young, J. (2023). The Uses and Misuses of History: Reflections on Nietzsche’s Second Untimely Meditation. Society, 60(670-683). https://doi.org/10.1007/s12115-023-00879-0

[2] Bann, S. (1987). Clio in Part: On Antiquarianism and the Historical Fragment. Perspecta, 23, 37, quote is cited in fn25 to Proust, M. (1984). By way of Sainte-Beuve (S. Townsend Warner, Trans.). London: Hogarth. 182-183.

PRAECEPTUM