The Greek Logos vs. the Evangelical Logos: The Awesomeness of Emil Brunner’s Moral Realism

Brunner with his wife and their first son

In The Mediator (1927), Emil Brunner has an excellent discussion on the similarities and differences between the Greek concept of Logos and the Christian/Johannine usage of Logos. He faults Ritschl for going too far in his criticism of Greek metaphysical intrusion into the pure moral positivism of the Gospel. Against Ritschl and his followers, Brunner recognizes a valid aspect of the Greek conception, namely the necessity for an “unconditional” from which our reason has its bearings and from which our language has meaning (“the principle of all meaning of intelligible speech” and “the principle through which alone we are able to distinguish invention from truth,” p. 207). But, as a principle of logic, the Logos is a mere Law standing outside ourselves — an impersonal Idea, unable to elicit or demand obedience. Invariably, this lack of “moral depth” avails the prejudices and laxity of each individual, who forms, rather than is formed by, the Logos. The Christian usage of Logos, however, includes a personal address by Christ, the Logos. There is a call and a response. The Word stands over-against us as the true form, for our understanding of God and of ourselves, received in faith (obedience). This is Brunner’s characteristic “I-Thou” emphasis, similar to Martin Buber’s Ich und Du and Friedrich Gogarten’s Von Glauben und Offenbarung, both published in 1923.

Here is Brunner’s contrast of the Greek-philosophical Logos (including Moral Law) with the Christian Logos of personal address and assent:

In the very nature of the “Law” or of abstract thought lies the impossibility of its ever becoming actual and personal. The speculative character of thought is opposed to the concrete character of personal volition. This shows its connection with objective thought. Even the moral idea of the Good is a mere idea; it is no real imperative. The Moral Law conceived as an a priori, as a principle of immanence, does not create a real sense of responsibility. I am still alone with myself. I am still engaged in a monologue. Conversation has not yet begun. For in true conversation — in real responsibility — it is essential that I should receive something from without: a real word, the Logos as a Logos which is altogether apart from my own thought, something over which I have no control. This means, however, that the Logos comes to me in an irrational way, along the path of actuality, as a word that is given. Otherwise even morality is only intercourse with oneself, Icheinsamkeit (solitude of the self), as Ferdinand Ebner so aptly puts it; it is self-love, self-regard. Nothing save a real relation to a real “Thou” can dispel this solitude of the soul; only a real conversation, in which we are actually addressed by another person, can make us responsible; this alone would be absolutely timely, personal, and therefore wholly serious. (pp. 208-209)

And there is this gem:

The abstract, a priori Moral Law addresses us as though our minds were still unsullied by experience of any kind. Hence, although it speaks of duty, it fills us at the same time with an inspiring sense of freedom and autonomy. Thus it deceives us, and we do not perceive that our minds are no longer like blank pages in a book; we do not realize that we are not free. The moral superficiality of the Moral Law from the point of view of Immanence is this: that it does not permit us to realize that we are real human beings, but that it regards us as hypothetical “subjects,” or as individuals who are still free to deal with the claims of the Good as they please. This assumes that we possess a dignity which in reality we lost long ago…. (pp. 209-210)

I think this serves as a compelling argument against the validity of a non-theistic moral realism, such as found in Iris Murdoch’s The Sovereignty of Good (an otherwise excellent little book) and, of course, in Kant’s deontological basis for a universal imperative.

[Quotations are taken from the translation of Olive Wyon, first published in 1934 by Lutterworth Press in England and later published in the United States by Westminster Press in 1947.]

An Introduction to “Neo-Orthodoxy”

In the comment thread to the previous post, I lamented the lack of serious engagement, from too many evangelical students, with the theology of Karl Barth, Thomas Torrance, and kindred spirits. In response, Mike Cheek asked about recommendations for understanding their context and what they were accomplishing. Naturally, not missing an opportunity to proselytize, I wrote him a mini-lecture on early 20th century theology. I am reproducing it below for the possible benefit of others.

Note: I do make some brief remarks on the propriety of the “neo-orthodox” label.

These “theologians of the Word” (i.e., early 20th century “neo-orthodox” writers) were working against an epistemological and metaphysical crisis — the fallout of Kant’s rejection of metaphysics, which was adopted by mainline Protestant theology (in various ways), from Schleiermacher to Ritschl to Harnack to Tillich.

With H. R. Mackintosh and P. T. Forsyth in Britain, E. Y. Mullins in America, and then Emil Brunner and Karl Barth in Switzerland/Germany, we have the first serious, in-depth offensive against this liberal tradition. [Prior to this, confessional critics of the dominant liberal academy were largely, with notable exceptions, on the defensive, resorting to apologetics or sometimes fideism.] All of the neo-orthodox theologians were trained in the liberal academy (e.g., Forsyth went to Germany to study under Ritschl), which contributes to their incisive critiques, as well as an appreciative appropriation of the liberal attack on metaphysics. Their response was, what I call, an “evangelical metaphysics.” In short, the power of the Word — the revelation of God in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit — creates a metaphysics of its own. Indeed, the Word creates the only metaphysics possible. Apart from this Word, Kant is right and metaphysics is impossible, except for certain moral postulates that never achieve a sure foundation outside of the human will’s self-determination (which Nietzsche correctly saw).

Thus, the liberals rightly (against the confessional orthodox) accepted the Kantian attack on a philosophical metaphysics but wrongly (against the neo-orthodox) extended this attack to any metaphysics whatsoever. As a result, the liberals rejected the agency of a God “out there” working and revealing himself “here.” Hence, we see the moralism and demythology that plagues this liberal tradition. Instead, the neo-orthodox, in a sense, humbled themselves before the power of the “wholly other” Word, which came in Israel/Christ, and comes now in the Spirit, and resides in His own self-sufficiency apart and above the created order (hence, meta-physics, above-the-physical).

The best introduction to all of this is to actually read the theologians themselves. They were fully conscious of what they were doing. I highly recommend P. T. Forsyth’s The Principle of Authority (currently published by Wipf & Stock) as an introduction to these issues and the neo-orthodox response. It should be noted that they did not think of themselves as “neo-orthodox” or even as a cohesive “movement.” Barth especially rejected any sort of labeling, in part because of his own eccentric approach (e.g., his vigorous attack on any natural knowledge of God, which nonetheless sort of allows for a natural knowledge of God!). The main problem with labels is that their use tends toward an over-emphasis of common traits, forgetting important differences (oh, like in the presentation you are currently reading!). Still, labels are unavoidable and helpful for students to organize the massive landscape of theology and philosophy.

Emil Brunner’s The Mediator (which can be found used for a reasonable price) is also a great introduction to this theology of the Word, especially the first two chapters where he positions himself vis-à-vis Schleiermacher and Ritschl, on the one hand, and Protestant orthodoxy, on the other hand. Barth is undoubtedly the greatest of all of these theologians, but because of the esoteric nature of his works and the shifts in his approach, from his more existential-deconstructive early writings to his more positive-constructive writings, he should probably be read after grappling with Forsyth and Brunner. However, Barth, like the others, always remained fairly existential, given his/their critique of scholasticism. I call this “good existentialism” as opposed to the bad existentialism which remains at the level of existentialism, lacking confidence in the new world of God’s re-creation. Barth’s Evangelical Theology is the best and most accessible introduction to this confidence amidst an existential critique of the world.

posted by Kevin Davis

For further reading, Paul Moser (Professor of Philosophy, Loyola Chicago) has an excellent faculty page with an extensive list of free pdf books by P. T. Forsyth, Emil Brunner, John Baillie, H. H. Farmer, H. R. Mackintosh, et al.

Edgar Y. Mullins’ dogmatic theology, The Christian Religion in Its Doctrinal Expression, can be read or downloaded for free by clicking here or purchased from Wipf & Stock.

God’s being as “event,” not “process”

Paul Jewett has a helpful, short discussion of Process theology in his God, Creation, and Revelation (Eerdmans, 1991 or Wipf & Stock, 2000, pp. 281-3). For those interested in what excited the intellectual energies of 20th century theologians, here is an excerpt, with reference to Berkhof, Barth, and Brunner:

Hendrikus Berkhof, who offers no treatment as such of the doctrine of the Trinity in his Christian Faith, ends his discussion of Christology with a section entitled “The Covenant as Tri-(u)nity.” Here he observes that the three names “Father-Son-Spirit, or, with equal validity, of Father-Spirit-Son, proves to be the summarizing description of the covenantal event, both as to its historical and its existential aspect….With the term ‘Trinity’ we point to a continuing and open event, directed to man,” an event in which we participate as we are conformed to the image of the Son through the Spirit. Thus we see how God has “made himself changeable. Together with us he is involved in a process, which also does something to him because as Father it enriches him with sons and daughters” (Christian Faith, Eerdmans, 1986, pp. 335-7). Thus in Berkhof’s theology the triune God of the Creed becomes a triune event; rather than ruling over history, God is enriched by history. His name is not “I AM WHO I AM,” but “I am becoming who I hope to be.”

Barth’s thought that God’s being is “being as event” reflects, we might note, an entirely different agenda from that of Process thought. Barth is interested in the contrast between Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover and the Christian God. The latter, he argues, is a trinitarion fellowship and this fellowship is an event, internal to himself, an event that is the ontological ground of the external event of historical revelation. (See also E. Jüngel, The Doctrine of the Trinity, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976.) Along the same lines Brunner observes that while God, in contrast to the Platonic deity, hears prayer and so enters into the human event, such an accompanying (mitgehen) of our temporal order does not mean that God is subject to that order.

“His accompanying a temporal event by no means signifies that favored notion of moderns: the becoming God. The concept of a becoming God is a mythological game. Were God himself one who becomes, all would sink in the morass of relativism….A changing God is no God to whom we can pray, but a mythical being who provokes our sympathy.” (Dogmatik, I, p. 275)

I love that quote from Brunner. Jewett does a great job of succinctly culling from the broader scholarship on any given topic, which makes his systematics rather helpful as a refresher (or upper-level introduction).

Billy Graham among the theologians

 

For those who know the theologies of Barth and Brunner, and Brunner’s admiration for the American free church model and evangelical personalism, then you will find this very amusing:

“The great Swiss theologian Karl Barth once stood in the rain to hear Graham preach in Basel. When he told Graham that the sermon from John 3:3 was good but should not have stressed the must in ‘you must be born again,’ Graham begged to differ (and was soon gratified to hear another great theologian, Emil Brunner, affirm his position). But then Graham closes this account concerning Barth with these words: ‘In spite of our theological differences, we remained good friends.’” (Mark Noll, American Evangelical Christianity: An Introduction, Blackwell 2001, p. 47)

Another important theologian, Helmut Thielicke, also attended a Billy Graham crusade, but with certain preconceived notions which put Thielicke in an ill disposition toward the popular preacher. However, after coming under the preaching of Graham, Thielicke experienced an awakening of sort. He explained in a letter to Graham, ”The evening was a profound ‘penance’ experience (poenitentia) for me. … When I have been asked now and again about your preaching, I have certainly not been too modest to make one or two theological observations. My evening with you made clear to me (and the Holy Spirit will have helped in doing so!) that the question should be asked in the reverse form: What is lacking in me and in my colleagues in the pulpit and at the university lectern, that makes Billy Graham so necessary?”

In Thielicke’s autobiography, Notes from a Wayfarer, he recounts the situation:

Responsibility and Election

Here’s my thought/question of the day: Even if we accept the classical Calvinist notion of Original Sin and the federal headship of Adam, such that all humans are responsible for their damnation, does that really help the Calvinist case that unconditional and particular election does not negate our “responsibility” to repent lest we perish? In other words, are the reprobate held accountable for their rejection of faith in Christ? It seems that the Calvinist would have to say “No,” and defer the responsibility to the failure in the covenant of works (Adamic headship). If this is the case, does this cohere with Jesus’ exhortations to repent lest you perish, or, for that matter, the church’s proclamation of Christ and call to repentance and faith? Of course, this is a perennial question posed to Calvinists, but I thought the responsibility question to be a helpful entry-point into the debate. I was prompted to this by Emil Brunner’s discussion of double predestination in volume 1 of his Dogmatics. Brunner believes the inadequate account of responsibility, among other things, in the TULIP schema to require its overhaul in Reformed soteriologies (Brunner being a loyal son of the Swiss Reformed Church).