ironmarlin1 said:At first glance, one might mistake these inquiries for mere homework assignments for a high schooler, though I suspect they actually touch upon much more profound, higher-level complexities.
If there are any members here who have spent some time wading through the works of Nietzsche, I would be deeply interested in hearing your perspectives on a few specific points that I am finding quite difficult to resolve on my own.
My first question concerns the very architecture of Nietzschean expression. To be clear, I am not suggesting that he himself ought to think in a tragic mode while writing about tragedy; rather, I wonder if he has any true justification for promising a new way of living—something akin to his concept of the Übermensch. It strikes me, for instance, that Northrop Frye once structured the Bible as a comedy. In this sense, it functions as a comedy because it lacks a truly tragic hero; following the fall from paradise, there is instead a movement back toward unity. Unlike the figures in Greek tragedy, the characters in the Judeo-Christian tradition aren't met with ultimate doom; there is always a glimmer of hope, a joyful resolution. Yet, what is Nietzsche doing? It seems as though he is attempting to herald a new millennium, much like a Jewish prophet might. Could this perhaps be an ironic maneuver—an attempt to dismantle Christianity by using its own rhetorical tools against it?
The second issue involves his perception of music. Quite early on, in the birth of tragedy, he suggests that modern music possesses superior means for achieving a tragic effect. However, this remains somewhat enigmatic to me. How can we reconcile this with the fact that modern music evolved precisely during an era when musical standards were strictly dictated by external forces, such as the Church or royal courts? Is it even possible for "good" music to exist without being measured against something transcendent or external to itself? Furthermore, weren't both Nietzsche and Wagner operating under a heavy Schopenhauerian influence? Doesn't that imply that, ultimately, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is something fundamentally non-musical?
One could argue that Schopenhauer was the one who finally unlocked the door to musical autonomy. And yet, does Nietzschean philosophy not impose its own set of new criteria upon music? He is famously critical of Wagner, dismissing him as a sort of actor who treats music as a secondary element used merely to underscore his theatrical tics. Perhaps he is right to criticize Wagner for being such a dedicated follower of Schopenhauer, but again, we find ourselves returning to these non-musical metrics.
One might counter that this critique of Wagner—and indeed Nietzsche’s entire body of thought, if we are to label it "philosophy"—actually emerges from the spirit of music itself, rather than from Ideas and so on.
The third point addresses the root of his critique of Christianity. It seems to me that Nietzsche’s opposition to the faith was largely a product of his specific historical context; he viewed Christian moral constraints as obstacles preventing life from adapting to new realities. Specifically, he was reacting to the pressures of the Prussian state, the rise of historicism, and the dominance of science. He saw these developments as symptoms of decadence—typical of an Alexandrian culture filled with hollow rhetoric regarding human dignity or the sanctity of labor. But how did he manage to weave all of this into a singular indictment of Christianity? Isn't the Christian liturgical cycle leading up to Easter exactly the kind of mechanism that should facilitate the renewal he associates with Dionysus (or perhaps he should have linked it to Adonis)? It appears his argument is that what should have been a tragic experience was hijacked to serve the "good news" of a slave morality, creating a closed loop from which there is no escape. But why escape at all? Is it to embrace Nietzsche’s own "good news" of the Übermensch or some new Renaissance? Perhaps it isn't "slave morality" that keeps Alexandrian culture alive, but rather something else entirely—perhaps just the lingering influence of Protestantism?
These are the questions that have been weighing on my mind, and I would dearly love to hear your thoughts or any reflections you might have on these matters.
Nietzsche clings to Christianity because it's his platform. He almost intentionally misinterprets it just so he can use it as a target—a reference point strong enough to actually be worth breaking.
He attacks Christianity from the perspective of a creator. He purposefully misses the mark on what Christian humility, mercy, and meekness actually mean; those things stem from acknowledging
sinfulness in a being that exists before and after
innocence.
In the act of creation, during that moment of trance, there is only momentum without counterpoint or balance. It seems Nietzsche is unaware that through this exact moment of creative trance, he is experiencing 'God'—the transcendent—perhaps in the most direct way possible. That momentum will either consume him or force him to grab reality and 'rework' it, which is exactly what he does.
So, your thought interests me:
If we classify Nietzsche's thoughts as philosophy
I experience him as a kinesthetic of reality. You can almost feel a physical shaking within his prose.
Since there is no *worthy* opposite to creation (other than destruction, though that's usually just a phase of creating), that's where the idea of 'God' comes from. From the creative impulse, it becomes a sort of 'breakthrough' or window into eternity, or in Nietzschean terms,
faith in a better tomorrow.
Because he didn't know—or chose not to know—the healing power of forgiveness (which is too tied to Christianity), or perhaps he knew but didn't write about it (or I missed it), his 'morality' feels almost military. He despised weakness—but for what purpose? What is he leaving to contempt?
And that tendency toward contempt provides the answer to where his 'better tomorrow' idea comes from. (Compare this to the contempt for weakness, which is essentially Christ's 'if your hand tempts you...').
Once something is despised through true understanding, there is no going back. Christian 'weakness' is a quiet strength that he refuses to acknowledge, so he cannot truly despise it through understanding. For what kind of strength does he despise weakness? For a strength that recognizes momentum but ignores endurance. That is why he demands constant momentum, his 'eternal yes.' We can only assume that's what drove him to his mental breakdown.
Furthermore, he assumes Buddhism is 'easy' compared to the weight of Christianity. Personally, it seems to me that Buddhism offers analgesia—a temporary fix for the 'mind'—whereas the cure for the 'soul' is precisely forgiveness.
Then, completely inconsistently, he wonders at the Christian 'lack of resistance,' while in Buddhism, that same lack of resistance is somehow glorified.