Barth’s clarity

Barth’s clarity is not something for which he is particularly known, but I think these comments from Joseph Mangina, in Karl Barth: Theologian of Christian Witness, make sense of the sort of clarity Barth sought:

While acquaintance with the structure of the Dogmatics is useful, it does not prepare one for the actual experience of reading the text. A main reason is that Barth does not adopt the familiar persona of the impartial academic. He writes not impartially, but as a partisan; he writes as one who is passionately engaged in the very subject matter under discussion. Barth seeks to foster this kind of engagement in the reader as well. He draws the reader into a movement of reflection, examining a theological puzzle from different angles, at times leading him or her down false roads (only so will we understand why they are false), always pressing us forward to some resolution of the problem at hand. Barth will never say in the manner of textbooks: ‘Here are two ways of looking at the topic, take your choice.’ The nature of what the church proclaims demands clarity. If anything frustrates him in modern theology, it is the tendency one sometimes sees to celebrate doubt and ambiguity for their own sake. Barth believes the Word of God to be an ultimate mystery, but he does not see it as opaque. Because God has spoken clearly in Jesus Christ, we can actually arrive at answers to theological questions. To be sure, our answers — being human — are always contestable; but the best way to see where we have gone wrong is to express our thinking as clearly as possible. This is a key reason why Barth wants to embrace the modern term wissenschaftlich, ’scientific’, for Christian theology. All this makes for the curious blend of passion and objectivity one finds in his writing. As Hans Urs von Balthasar writes, Barth is ‘passionately enthusiastic about the subject matter of theology, but he is impartial in the way he approaches so volatile a subject. Impartiality means being plunged into the object … And Barth’s object is God, as he has revealed himself in Jesus Christ, to which revelation Scripture bears witness’ (The Theology of Karl Barth, Ignatius, p. 25).

pp. 22-23

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.

I am wayward

In a recent post, I said that Barth and Torrance were “the poster boys for wayward anti-confessionalism.” Just to prove my keen powers of observation — and so you know that I’m not making this stuff up — here is the latest post from Dr. Michael A. G. Haykin, professor of church history at Southern:

“Reading Fred Zaspel’s tremendous doctoral thesis on B.B. Warfield and I agree fully with him that it says much that the sesquicentennial of Warfield’s birth—2001—passed virtually unnoticed.  I would agree with Fred that Warfield was the greatest theologian of the twentieth century—much more important in the cause of God than that darling of wayward Evangelicals, Karl Barth!”

Oh my, I am off the straight and narrow. I blame Barth’s winsome prose. The doctrine of election has never been so intoxicating.

The persistence of paedobaptism according to Karl Barth

Halden has recently questioned, rightly so, the typical “voluntarism” charges against credobaptists (here and here) — voluntarism understood, of course, as a very bad thing. It just so happens that I was recently reading Barth’s critique of infant baptism in his commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism. Here’s an excerpt:

“The real reason for the persistent adherence to infant baptism is quite simply the fact that without it the church would suddenly be in a remarkably embarrassing position. Every individual would then have to decide whether he wanted to be a Christian. But how many Christians would there be in that case? The whole concept of a national church (or national religion) would be shaken. That must not happen; and so one proposes argument upon argument for infant baptism and yet cannot speak convincingly because fundamentally he has a bad conscience. The introduction of adult baptism in itself would of course not reform the church which needs reforming. The adherence to infant baptism is only one — a very important one — of many symptoms that the church is not alive and bold, that it is afraid to walk on the water like Peter to meet the Lord, that it therefore does not seek a sure foundation but only deceptive props.”

“Die christliche Lehre nach dem Heidelberger Katechismus,” Lectures given at the University of Bonn, Summer Semester, 1947.

The Heidelberg Catechism for Today, trans. Shirley Guthrie (John Knox Press, 1964), p. 104.

Knowledge in Romans 1, per Barth

My contribution to the Barth Blog Conference was posted a couple days ago on Travis’ blog (click here). The topic is Barth’s rejection of natural theology in his Shorter Commentary on Romans. Shannon’s argument is that (1) Barth is doing exegesis, intending to let Paul speak for himself, and (2) Barth’s exegesis is correct, i.e., Paul and Barth are in agreement. In my response, I affirm the former and dispute the latter. Here is an excerpt, my argument in nuce:

And now we come to my criticism. Given this wholly foreign knowledge of God, hidden until the work of Christ, Barth declares that “it would be very strange indeed, if Paul suddenly regarded the Gentiles as being in full participation and possession of a genuine knowledge of God” (p.15). The difficulty I have with such a statement is that Barth is filling-in the idea of “knowledge” with such terms as “full participation” and “possession” of a “genuine knowledge” of God and contrasting this with the idea of knowledge in the first chapter of Romans, in particular, knowledge of God by the Gentiles “ever since the creation of the world.” This language of “full participation,” etc., heavily tilts the argument in Barth’s favor, but I believe Paul is working with a more limited understanding of knowledge: a genuine knowledge of God but without the soteriological value and definitional content. Thus, famously, Paul is able to say that God’s “eternal power and divine nature” is known through “the things he has made” (1:20), yet “though they knew God, they did not honor him as God (1:21). Also, more critically, Paul ends the section with, “They know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die…” (1:32). A certain knowledge of God is made available to the Gentiles outside of Christ, though it is knowledge that only leaves them in condemnation. It lacks the object of saving faith.

Barth Blog Conference

This year’s Barth Blog Conference is underway at Travis’ blog, Der Evangelische Theologe. Here is the introduction and here is the first entry and response. I had the pleasure this year of participating with a response. The topic is Barth’s rejection of natural theology in his exegesis of Romans 1. If you’re only vaguely familiar with the issue, and Barth’s unique stance, then this conference would be an excellent place to get familiarized.

Astonishment

I am especially encouraged by the last couple sentences:

“A quite specific astonishment stands at the beginning of every theological perception, inquiry, and thought, in fact at the root of every theological word. This astonishment is indispensable if theology is to exist and be perceptually renewed as a modest, free, and happy science. If such astonishment is lacking, the whole enterprise of even the best theologian would canker at the roots. On the other hand, as long as even a poor theologian is capable of astonishment, he is not lost to the fulfillment of his task. He remains serviceable as long as the possibility is left open that astonishment may seize him like an armed man.”

Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction, p. 64.

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).

God’s Use of the Bible

Here is a nice reminder on the Bible’s intrinsic-extrinsic authority:

Only God can authenticate his word. We can try, of course. We can develop all sorts of theories of inspiration and devise all sorts of proofs of why the Bible must be true and hold all sorts of rallies in supposed “defense” of the Bible. These may make us feel more secure when we already believe, but they have not been notably successful in persuading the unconvinced. If the word of God, in its original spoken or later written form, does not come with intrinsic authority, nothing else will finally suffice.

…When we are being bluntly honest with ourselves, we know that what makes us most resist dealing seriously with Scripture is not fundamentally the Bible’s pre-scientific worldview or its historical obscurities. It’s the way it fingers all too accurately where we fall short here and now. What troubles us is not what is not clear, but what is. As Mark Twain puts it, “Many people are bothered by what they don’t understand in the Bible. I, however, am greatly disturbed by what I do understand.” And W. C. Fields said, “I have spent a lot of time searching through the Bible for loopholes.” By contrast, to affirm the biblical story in all its discomfiting clarity is to say with Karl Barth,

“Every verse in the Bible is virtually a concrete faith-event in my own life….I have been personally present and have shared in the crossing of Israel through the Red Sea but also in the adoration of the golden calf, in the baptism of Jesus but also in the denial of Peter and the treachery of Judas….And we shall have to answer this question alone: whether, after the Word of God has sought to provide us with this movement and meaning, we have perhaps evaded it?” (Church Dogmatics, I/2, T&T Clark, 1956, p. 709)

Marguerite Shuster, “A Book with a Difference,” in God, Creation, and Revelation: A Neo-Evangelical Theology (Eerdmans, 1991) by Paul K. Jewett, pp. 167-8.

Doubt

A brilliant aphorism on doubt:

“[Doubt] is altogether a pernicious companion which has its origin not in the good creation of God but in the Nihil — the power of destruction — where not only the foxes and rabbits but also the most varied kinds of demons bid one another “Good night.” There is certainly a justification for the doubter. But there is no justification for doubt itself (and I wish someone would whisper that in Paul Tillich’s ear). No one, therefore, should account himself particularly truthful, deep, fine, and elegant because of his doubt. No one should flirt with his unbelief or with his doubt. The theologian should only be sincerely ashamed of it.”

Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction (Eerdmans 1992), p. 131.