Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions 9780567655769, 9780567659675, 9780567655776

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T&T Clark Studies in Systematic Theology Edited by John Webster Ian A. McFarland Ivor Davidson

Volume 28

Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions Sven Ensminger

Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square London WC1B 3DP UK

1385 Broadway New York NY 10018 USA

www.bloomsbury.com Bloomsbury is a registered trade mark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2014 © Sven Ensminger, 2014 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Sven Ensminger has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-0-567-65577-6 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Ensminger, Sven Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions/Sven Ensminger p.cm Includes bibliographic references and index. ISBN 978-0-567-65576-9 (hardcover) Typeset by Fakenham Prepress Solutions, Fakenham, Norfolk NR21 8NN

Contents Acknowledgements Abbreviations

vii

Introduction

1

1 Barth’s Doctrine of Revelation Approaching the doctrine of revelation The one revelation of Jesus Christ and other revelations Conclusion

ix

9 10 24 43

2 Barth’s Understanding of Revelation and Religion Approaching Barth’s understanding of religion Analysis of §17 of Church Dogmatics Revisiting revelation in the context of religion Conclusion

45

3 Barth’s Theological Anthropology and Doctrine of Sin Approaching Barth’s theological anthropology Barth’s doctrine of sin Conclusion

83

4 Barth’s Doctrine of Election – The Electing God and the Elected   Human Being Approaching the doctrine of election The question of universalism and human freedom Conclusion 5 Engaging the Inclusivist Paradigm – A Conversation between    Karl Rahner and Karl Barth Outline of the inclusivist paradigm Engaging the inclusivist paradigm Conclusion

45 53 74 79

85 104 110

113 114 130 142

145 146 149 175

vi Contents

6 Engaging the Pluralist Paradigm – John Hick as Question and    Challenge to Karl Barth Outline of the pluralist paradigm Engaging the pluralist paradigm Conclusion 7 Conclusion – Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian    Theology of Religions Barth’s theology in the field of Christian theology of religions Barth’s theology of religions – a new approach Conclusion Bibliography Index

177 178 189 209

213 214 223 240 245 261

Acknowledgements This is a slightly revised version of my doctoral thesis, submitted to the University of Bristol in 2013. Many people deserve words of gratitude in the realization of this project: first and foremost, I want to acknowledge my supervisor, Professor Gavin D’Costa. I am very thankful for his wisdom, patience and insight while guiding me through this project, so my deep respect and gratitude go to him. Thanks also to my examiners, Professor Jon Balserak (University of Bristol) and Professor David Fergusson (University of Edinburgh), who both made my oral defence a truly encouraging and positive experience. Thanks is also due to all the students and staff members of the postgraduate Religion and Theology Reading Group at the University of Bristol who provided a stimulating environment for the exchange of research ideas. Words of thanks also go to many students and staff at St Mary’s College, University of St  Andrews. Out of the many people who make St Mary’s College the place it is, I want to thank particularly students and staff associated with the postgraduate Systematic Theology Seminar, especially Andrew Hay, Christina Larsen and Loe Joo Tan. My words of gratitude for people at the University of St Andrews would not be complete without thanking Ivor Davidson and John Webster. Both of them have been models in being wise, witty and insightful theologians and teachers, and I am grateful for their support in many ways. Furthermore, it has become very obvious to me that a research project like this benefits from a great liaison with library staff; therefore, a special word of thanks goes to Lynda Kinloch and Colin Bovaird, University of St Andrews Library, as well as Kelly Shand, former librarian at Yale Divinity School, New Haven, CT, USA. Thanks also to all the members of the Karl Barth Translators’ Seminar, Princeton Theological Seminary, who know the pains of translating nuances in language all too well and have shown to me again and again the importance of this work.

viii Acknowledgements

A personal word of gratitude to both Alasdair I. Macleod, former minister of St Andrews Free Church, and his wife Cathie Macleod, who both have been of indispensable support and a great encouragement throughout the years. Many, many words of thanks also go to my parents, Birgit and Dieter Ensminger, who have encouraged and supported me throughout this time with great patience. Finally, a deeply affectionate word of thanks is due to my grandmother, Elisabeth Adam, and my late grandfather, Hermann Adam. It is to them that this work is dedicated.

Abbreviations CD – Barth, Karl, Church Dogmatics (ed. and trans. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance; 14 volumes; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–75). Reference to individual volumes will be made by number of volume, number of part of the volume, and page number. The Christian Life – Barth, Karl, The Christian Life – Church Dogmatics Volume IV, Part 4 – Lecture Fragments (trans. G. W. Bromiley; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1981). Das Christliche Leben – Barth, Karl, Die Kirchliche Dogmatik IV/4, Fragmente aus dem Nachlaß – Vorlesungen 1959–1961 (GA II.7) (eds H.-A. Drewes and E. Jüngel; Zürich: TVZ, 1976). Dogmatics in Outline – Barth, Karl, Dogmatics in Outline (trans. G. T. Thomson; with a preface by Colin E. Gunton; London: SCM Press, 2001). Dogmatik im Grundriß – Barth, Karl, Dogmatik im Grundriß (epilogue by Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 2006). Epheserbrief – Barth, Karl, Erklärungen des Epheser- und des Jakobusbriefes 1919–1929 (GA II.46) (ed. J.-M. Bohner; Zürich: TVZ, 2009). GA – Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe (Zürich: TVZ). References to volumes will be made giving the section in Roman numerals, followed by the individual volume number. GD – Barth, Karl, The Göttingen Dogmatics: Instruction in the Christian Religion, Vol. I (ed. H. Reiffen; trans. G. W. Bromiley; Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1991). GiA – Barth, Karl, God in Action – Theological Addresses (transl. E. G. Homrighausen and Karl J. Ernst; intro. Josias Friedli; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936).

x Abbreviations

The Humanity of God – Barth, Karl, The Humanity of God (trans. T. Wieser and J. N. Thomas; Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1960). Johannes-Evangelium – Barth, Karl, Erklärung des Johannes-Evangeliums (Kapitel 1–8) – Vorlesung Wintersemester 1925/1926, wiederholt in Bonn, Sommersemester 1933 (GA II.9) (ed. W. Fürst; Zürich: TVZ, 1976). KD – Barth, Karl, Kirchliche Dogmatik (14 volumes; Zürich: EVZ, 1932–67). Reference to individual volumes will be made by number of volume, number of part of the volume, and page number. Die Menschlichkeit Gottes – Barth, Karl, Die Menschlichkeit Gottes – Vortrag, gehalten an der Tagung des Schweiz. Ref. Pfarrvereins in Aarau am 25. September (Theologische Studien, 48; Zürich: EVZ, 1956). OKT – Barth, Karl, ‘Offenbarung, Kirche, Theologie,’ in Karl Barth, Theologische Fragen und Antworten, Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 158–84. ST I– Tillich, Paul, Systematic Theology, Volume One (Chicago, IL: Chicago University Press, 1951). TI – Rahner, Karl, Theological Investigations (23 volumes; Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1961–92). Reference to texts in individual volumes will be made giving the title of the essay, number of volume in TI and page number. Unterricht I – Barth, Karl, ‘Unterricht in der christlichen Religion’ – Erster Band – Prolegomena (GA II.17) (ed. H. Reiffen; Zürich: TVZ, 1985). Unterricht II – Barth, Karl, ‘Unterricht in der christlichen Religion’ – Zweiter Band – Die Lehre von Gott / Die Lehre vom Menschen 1924/1925 (GA II.20) (ed. H. Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1990).

Introduction

The present study advocates Karl Barth’s theological work as a resource for Christian theology of religions. Defying traditional categories of the Christian approach to other faiths, Barth’s approach has been classified as ‘being exclusivist, inclusivist, and universalist all at once!’1 This project will examine this statement and develop Barth’s theological work for this purpose. Barth himself planned to develop a theology of religions ‘where Jesus Christ would be the foundation from where the conversation with the religions might possibly begin a completely new conversation’,2 yet never accomplished this before his death in 1968. Over the next chapters, I will offer an in-depth engagement with Barth’s writings as they are available to us today under the broad headings of ‘revelation,’ ‘revelation and religion,’ ‘theological anthropology’ and ‘election.’ Furthermore, I will put Barth’s work into conversation with other approaches in the field of Christian theology of religions. Chapters 1 to 4 will offer a critical exposition of key doctrinal areas of Barth’s writings, while Chapters 5 and 6 will establish a dialogue between Barth and a range of scholars from different perspectives on the question of how Christianity Gavin D’Costa, ‘Theology of Religions,’ in David Ford and Rachel Muers (eds), The Modern Theologians: An Introduction to Christian Theology since 1918 (Oxford: Blackwell, 3rd edn, 2005), pp. 626–44 (630).  2 This is an excerpt from the following more detailed quote, noted by Fangmeier: ‘When I was able to be with Karl Barth for the last time in September 1968, he talked about what he would engage with if he still had years of theological engagement ahead of him. And he said that this would be, after Roman Catholicism and the Eastern Churches, the non-Christian religions; however, he added, completely differently from the way this was normally done: not that the general would be the basis, to end up in a position where Jesus Christ would end up as above all, but much rather that Jesus Christ would be the foundation from where the conversation with the religions might possibly begin a completely new conversation.’ Jürgen Fangmeier, Der Theologe Karl Barth – Zeugnis vom freien Gott und freien Menschen (Basel: Friedrich Reinhardt Verlag, 1969), p. 62.  1

2

Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

should relate to non-Christian religions. In the conclusion, I will suggest a Christian theology of non-Christian religions that is deeply rooted in the Christian faith and advocate it as a resource for the Christian Church. A comment is necessary regarding the methodology used in this study. I will be interpreting Barth’s work as the work of a theologian who argues from the perspective of the Christian faith, from within the Christian Church, for the Christian Church, about the Christian faith. This has the following implications: MM

MM

MM

From the perspective of the Christian faith: It seems undeniable that Barth is working from the point of view of Christian faith. When reading any of Barth’s documents, it is obvious that his approach is distinctively Christian. This is not to be taken as a disadvantage, as a neutral vantage point would undoubtedly be difficult to achieve.3 However, while Barth is clearly not a scholar of the world religions, he argues with a Christian background. His approach is thereby clearly neither sociological nor philosophical, yet Barth’s approach remains rooted in Christian theology. From within the Christian Church: This second point is more subtle but equally important. Barth sees himself as firmly rooted within the Christian universal Church, which forms the background to many of the arguments. The very first sentence of Church Dogmatics reads: ‘Dogmatics is a theological discipline. But theology is a function of the Church.’4 The theological task is thereby undertaken in the context of the Christian Church: ‘The Church produces theology in this special and peculiar sense by subjecting itself to self-examination.’5 This will become particularly obvious in Chapter 2. For the Christian Church: This is one of the interpretative keys to the present study. I am reading Barth as a theologian with a keen pastoral interest in the members of the Christian Church. It seems a worthwhile reminder here that Barth’s key text is Church Dogmatics, and not a ‘Christian’ dogmatic or a doctrinal text of the Christian faith. Certainly,

This is well put by Pope Benedict XVI: ‘the encounter of the religions is not possible by renouncing truth but only by a deeper entering into it.’ Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger [Pope Benedict XVI], Many Religions – One Covenant – Israel, the Church and World (trans. Graham Harrison; San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 1999), p. 109.  4 CD I/1, p. 3; KD I/1, p. 1.  5 CD I/1, p. 4; KD I/1, p. 4.  3

Introduction

MM

3

this is not to say that Barth is not also a systematic theologian. However, the pastoral interest as one of the underlying features of his writings is an aspect that has to be stressed explicitly here. About the Christian faith: This is an issue of particular interest given our topic. Barth’s theology will be used to find an answer to the question: How can we as Christians make sense of non-Christian religions? How are we to understand and interpret them? This is to say, as in the first point, that there is no neutral vantage point from which Barth intends to be working. The question for Barth is how Christian believers can and should relate to members of other religions or no religion at all. This is not to say that Barth ignores people of other faiths, yet his primary goal is to find an answer for adherents of the Christian faith.

I have used in the above points the word ‘pastoral.’ This will need to be clarified further.6 First, this means that I write in awareness of the common distinction between purely systematic theology and pastoral theology. I agree here with Kelsey who argues that ‘the analogy “systematic theology is to pastoral theology as theory is to application of theory” is false.’7 It is my conviction that the reading of Barth’s Church Dogmatics, if it is focusing on this work only through the lens of systematic theology, will not capture this aspect. Jüngel underlines this aspect by arguing: ‘The Church Dogmatics assails the church (and not only the church) with the gospel. That is what makes it of service to the church.’8 Secondly, this means, with regard to the material on which I will be drawing, that on the one hand I will also point to earlier dogmatic attempts such as the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion as well as, on the other hand, writings that are not considered ‘academic’ works, such as Barth’s sermons and his talks and conversations within the church context. These will corroborate the framework of Church Dogmatics, as Barth showed in this additional

See for the following, David H. Kelsey, Imagining Redemption (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), particularly pp. 86–94.  7 Ibid., p. 89.  8 Eberhard Jüngel, Karl Barth – A Theological Legacy (trans. Garrett E. Paul; Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1986), p. 127.  6

4

Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

material how the content and implications of his magnum opus were intended to be preached in the context of the church.9 Thirdly and finally, the pastoral interest with which Church Dogmatics has been written runs like a red thread throughout all the volumes. For example, in Chapter 1, dealing with the doctrine of revelation, I will show that Barth, while emphasizing the centrality of the one revelation of Jesus Christ, will remind the Christian community that God might use different media of revelation and that there are other lights in creation that point to the ‘Light of the World’ Jesus Christ. Another example includes the well-known question of Barth’s stance on universalism arising from his doctrine of election. As I will show in Chapter 4, Barth ends on the position that the Christian community should consider nobody – no matter their race or religion – as beyond God’s reach, leading to a position that refuses to acknowledge universalism explicitly. While this might be dissatisfying at first sight, it will be shown that, for Barth, this makes sense within the framework of pastoral theology.

Outline This project will fall into three major parts: part I will engage with Barth’s corpus of writings in order to establish the core characteristics of a theology of non-Christian religions. Given the basic demand given by Barth that Jesus Christ should be the starting point for the development of such a theology, I will, for this purpose, analyse Barth’s starting point in the doctrine of revelation. Tracing the development of the doctrine from the time before Church Dogmatics, Chapter 1 will argue that Barth’s doctrine of revelation is rooted in Jesus Christ as the one revelation of importance. However, as it will be seen, this will not keep Barth from affirming the existence of different media of revelation, as well as encouraging openness to revelations in the world, which might serve as pointers to this one revelation in Jesus Christ. As a reminder, one should also be aware of the fact that the index volume to Church Dogmatics includes about 300 pages of notes and aids for the preacher. While these have been added by editorial staff, they do so in clear awareness that ‘from the publication of the first part-volumes many pastors and church workers have consulted the Church Dogmatics as an exegetical, theological and practical aid in the preparation of sermons and other forms of Gospel proclamation’ (CD General Index, p. vii; KD Register, p. vi).

 9

Introduction

5

Chapter 2 offers an analysis of §17 of Church Dogmatics. Traditionally, this section has been used as one of the key texts to approach Barth’s understanding of non-Christian religions. I will reframe this interpretation, arguing instead that Barth’s main purpose in this section is an invitation to the Christian church for self-examination and a call to faithfulness to the revelation of Jesus, by becoming the ‘human face’ of revelation. I will turn in Chapter 3 to an examination of Barth’s theological anthropology. This chapter will illustrate probably most clearly that Barth’s theology is pastoral at the core. It will be argued that the human being – no matter his or her religion – has to be understood as the covenant partner of God. The human being is only understood properly when looking at the human being Jesus Christ. In the light of Jesus Christ, the members of the Christian community are called to consider everyone as their fellow human (Mitmensch). Chapter 4 will conclude the first part and examine Barth’s doctrine of election. Particular emphasis will be put on the tension between Barth’s affirmation of the universal election of all human beings in Jesus Christ and the simultaneous denial of universalism as a concept. It will become apparent that the doctrine of election is a direct result of Barth’s theological anthropology. In part II, I will broaden the focus and put Barth’s theology into conversation with a number of scholars within the area of the theology of religions. I am showing here not only that my interpretation from the first part is plausible, but also that the engagement with other scholars is fruitful in shedding further light on aspects of Barth’s material. By choosing Karl Rahner and John Hick as the main conversation partners, I am following the pattern that was initially introduced by Alan Race with regard to the typology of Christian approaches to other faiths.10 However, this is not to say that I am adopting this typology uncritically, as it has received various criticisms since its introduction.11 As it will be seen, Barth himself is an excellent example of some of the shortcomings of the typology, showing aspects of inclusivism and answering questions that See Alan Race, Christians and Religious Pluralism – Patterns in the Christian Theology of Religions (London: SCM Press, 1983). 11 For an excellent overview of these criticisms, see e.g. Gavin D’Costa, Christianity and World Religions – Disputed Questions in the Theology of Religions (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), particularly pp. 34–37. 10

6

Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

have been raised by the work of pluralists. Consequently, my main purpose is to map and use Barth’s theology constructively as a resource for a Christian theology of religions, rather than showing that aspects of his theology or his theology as a whole belong to this or that category of the typology. Chapter 5, then, will turn to an engagement with scholars defending an inclusivist approach to non-Christian religions. Inclusivism refers to the position that ‘Christ is the normative revelation of God, although salvation is possible outside of the explicit Christian Church, but this salvation is always from Christ.’12 I am engaging here particularly with Karl Rahner and his concept of ‘anonymous Christianity,’ but also with the question of natural theology and the question whether Barth could have benefited from a degree of openness in this regard. Chapter 6 will put Barth into conversation with proponents of religious pluralism. Pluralism is the approach that ‘all religions are equal and valid paths to the one divine reality and Christ is one revelation among many equally important revelations.’13 While Barth is clearly not a pluralist, I will show in this chapter that Barth offers at various instances helpful insights in response to the demands put onto the question of the relation between Christianity and non-Christian religions. I will particularly engage with the work of John Hick, one of the most prominent contemporary pluralists. In the final chapter, I will draw some conclusions for the development of a Christian theology of other religions. For this purpose, Chapter 7 will turn to the question of what it means to be the Christian Church in the context of different faiths. I will discuss the question of mission and what it means to be respectful of other faiths in a multi-faith setting while remaining firm in one’s own belief. I will conclude that Barth’s theological approach can be used as a basis for the theological appropriations to people of other faiths. Pointing once more to the pastoral nature of Barth’s theology, I will stress here that Barth’s theology strikes a necessary, but ultimately crucial, balance between focusing on the human being and never losing sight of God in all of its endeavours.

Gavin D’Costa, ‘Christian Theology and Other Faiths,’ in Peter Byrne and Leslie Houlden (eds), Companion Encyclopedia of Theology (London: Routledge, 1995), pp. 291–313 (292). Ibid.

12

13

Introduction

7

Further remarks Given the nature of this study, some linguistic points are of crucial importance and will have to be addressed. First, I am referring to both the English and German edition of Church Dogmatics in the footnotes. Whenever the English translation needed to be revised, I designated the change by rev. in the footnote. Linked to this, I have also paid attention to the different words that are emphasized through ‘e x p a n d e d s p a c i n g ’ (Sperrung) in the German edition. This leads to a number of nuances being lost in the English edition by omission of this emphasis.14 I will use italics instead of expanded spacing as a mode of emphasis; words in italics are the original emphasis and not my own, unless explicitly stated. Secondly, the problem with gendered language needs to be addressed. I decided to maintain the male-centred language in all direct quotes in order to stay faithful to the original context in which the text was written. This applies to Barth’s writings as well as secondary material from the same time period. However, in my own text, I switch back and forth between male and female pronouns when referring to human beings, as well as combining God with the reflexive pronoun ‘Godself.’ I hope that this decision remains faithful to the balance between gender sensitivities and the historical context of the original writings. Thirdly, there are a number of more specific linguistic questions pertaining to individual chapters. These will be clearly signposted at the beginning of the chapters, wherever necessary. Finally, all translations of (primary and secondary) German resources without an official English translation are my own. Despite the fact that these have been checked multiple times, all remaining errors are my own.

A simple example to illustrate this: There is an obvious difference between reading ‘God is love,’ ‘God is love,’ ‘God is love,’ and ‘God is love.’ I will mark the words – and at times parts of words – that are emphasized in the original. Certainly, this comes at times with its own challenges as the sentence structure of the translation might not always allow the emphasis Barth intended in the original text. In these cases, I will point to the issue at hand in the corresponding note.

14

1

Barth’s Doctrine of Revelation

Christian theology, and thus any examination of a theological matter will depend on an adequate understanding of revelation. The question of revelation in the history of Christian thought ‘refers both to the act of God’s self-disclosure to humanity and to the knowledge of God which results from such divine action.’1 As Trevor Hart has argued: ‘The question of revelation in Christian theology is finally no less than the question of theology’s own ultimate source and norm, of the conditions for the possibility of theology itself as a human activity.’2 This is certainly true of Christian theology in general, and as Bruce McCormack has rightly claimed, in Barth’s case the doctrine of revelation is an illustration of his method of dialectical theology.3 This chapter will examine the shape of Barth’s doctrine of revelation. In many ways, this chapter functions as an extended introduction to our topic. A topical study of Barth’s theology cannot help but examine his doctrine of revelation, as it is of central importance to his theological system as a whole. This means that, while there will initially not be much that distinguishes between Christian and non-Christian religion, it lays the foundation for everything else that will be said in the first part, i.e. how revelation relates to religion (Chapter 2), and how revelation impacts Barth’s theological John B. Webster, ‘Revelation, concept of,’ entry in Alister E. McGrath (ed.), The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Modern Christian Thought (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004), p. 557.   2 Trevor Hart, ‘Revelation,’ in John B. Webster (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 37–56 (37).   3 ‘The central area of theological reflection to which this understanding of analogy was applied by Barth is that of the relation of the content of revelation to human language (concepts and words).’ Bruce McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology: Its Genesis and Development 1909–1936, p.  17. It is beyond the scope of this study to examine Barth’s theological method in detail; however, reference will be made to this throughout.   1

10

Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

anthropology (Chapter 3) and his doctrine of election (Chapter 4). For this purpose, the argument of the chapter will be undertaken along the following lines: First, the doctrine of revelation will be introduced, arguing that, in revelation, God is both subject and object, and acting in perfect sovereignty and freedom. After a critical examination of this starting point in conversation with the Lutheran theologian Gustaf Wingren, we will conclude this first section with an argument for the universality of the revelation of Jesus Christ. Secondly, the doctrine of revelation will be taken further to compare and contrast the one revelation in Jesus Christ and other revelations. For this purpose, the second section will establish the historical and theological background of the Barmen Declaration. I will also examine the distinction between Barth’s argument for different media of revelation and his theory of lights (Lichterlehre). This section will conclude with a discussion between Barth and Paul Tillich regarding the nature of Church proclamation in the light of the differentiation between revelation and revelations. Throughout, this chapter offers a broader perspective on Barth’s understanding of revelation. This is done in part through the fresh exposition of the doctrine of revelation, basing it not only on Church Dogmatics, but also on his early writings, including the Unterricht in der Christlichen Religion, his commentary on the Gospel of John and his sermons. Furthermore, different interlocutors will serve to shed further light on aspects of Barth’s doctrine of revelation. By the end of the chapter, it will become evident that Barth maintains that the unique revelation of Jesus Christ is of universal significance, while allowing for a wide range of media for this revelation to be communicated and for other revelations to occur which point to this one revelation. Taken together, it will become clear that Barth’s doctrine of revelation forms the foundation on which his theology of religions can and has to be developed.

Approaching the doctrine of revelation This section will establish the core characteristics of Barth’s doctrine of revelation in order to build the foundation for the rest of the chapter. In



Barth’s Doctrine of Revelation

11

Barth’s approach to revelation, there is a strong sense of God as the starting point and subject. While this is certainly true of his Church Dogmatics to which we will turn in detail below, it also applies to his prior writings. This theme is evident in his earliest attempt at a dogmatic outline of theology, the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion, where some of the major strands of his understanding are already sketched out. In what follows, I will argue that the characteristics of revelation as outlined in the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion and Barth’s commentary on the Gospel of John from the same time form the foundation of Barth’s mature approach to revelation in Church Dogmatics. This will include a critical engagement with Barth’s use of the doctrine of revelation as the starting point of his theological system (pp. 17–21), and lead to an argument for the universal applicability of the one revelation in Jesus Christ (pp. 21–24).

A historical overview and list of attributes Before embarking upon an outline of these characteristics, a comment is necessary regarding the progression and consistency of Barth’s theology. There exists an ongoing debate regarding breaks and turns in Barth’s theological thought, both within Church Dogmatics4 and within his work as a whole.5 Barth argues that between 1928 and 1938, he ‘had to rid [himself] of the last remnants of a philosophical, i.e. anthropological… foundation and exposition of Christian doctrine’6 and notes a stronger Christological focus of his doctrine. I will note below that Barth tends to speak in the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion more about God than Jesus Christ, which might be taken as a sign of this. At a later stage Barth argued retrospectively that See e.g. the ongoing debate between George Hunsinger and Bruce McCormack regarding the understanding of election and the Trinity within Church Dogmatics. (George Hunsinger, ‘Election and the Trinity: Twenty-Five Theses on the Theology of Karl Barth,’ Modern Theology 24:2 [April 2008], pp.  179–98; Bruce McCormack, ‘Election and the Trinity: Theses in response to George Hunsinger,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 63:2 [2010], pp. 203–24.). This is an important debate yet does not concern the primary focus of this chapter. We will return to the question in Chapter 4.   5 See Barth’s own assessment of changes in his thought in Karl Barth, How I Changed My Mind (intro. and epilogue J. D. Godsey; Richmond, VA: John Knox Press, 1966). For moves in Barth’s theological approach in his early writings, see also McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology. McCormack sets out to provide ‘a genetic-historical interpretation of Barth’s theological development’ (p. vi) and argues that Barth developed a critically realistic dialectical theology after his break with liberal Protestantism and that this is his theological position for the rest of his life.   6 Barth, How I Changed My Mind, pp. 42–43.   4

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Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

‘it is precisely God’s deity which, rightly understood, includes his humanity.’7 Therefore, while there exists an underlying consistency with regard to the overall approach to revelation, i.e. the rejection of any impetus outside of God, one needs to be aware of a sharpening of the Christological dimension as time progresses. We will now turn to some of these characteristics. First, the driving force behind revelation, the author of revelation, in short, the subject of revelation is always God. There is no human possibility to know God without the help of the divine. Anyone who claims to have come to the knowledge of God without divine intervention has not come into contact with God at all. In all things, it is God ‘who upholds us, who places himself in our path, who becomes our limit, who demands the keeping of his commands, who demands that we let ourselves be disturbed in our acts, that we learn to consider that we are human and not God.’8 It is apparent that the point of revelation ‘is not to grasp, but to be grasped.’9 It has to be distinguished from Scripture, as, in Scripture, the human author speaks together with God, whereas in revelation it is solely God who is the initiator of revelation and subject.10 The written and spoken testimony throughout history has always to be understood as a pointer to God as the subject of revelation. This means that the initial first step originates from God. Yet, it is to be accepted with a second step, a reception of God; otherwise, the testimonies remain mere human accounts and are not revelation. Barth argues: ‘they [the Jews addressed by Jesus in John 5.31–47] are not deceived when believing that they possess eternal life in the Law and Prophets… Everything depends also here on whether the testimony is accepted. Otherwise the Bible is only a pile of old paper and all Biblicism utter senselessness… “You can admire John the Baptist, see my works, remember the old revelations, pursue theology – but you do not love God; you are indifferent to the Subject of all these testimonies.” ’11 In revelation, God is supremely subject.12 The Humanity of God, p. 46; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 10. GD, p. 197; Unterricht I, pp. 243–44, my emphasis.   9 GD, p. 196; Unterricht I, p. 242.  10 GD, p. 57; Unterricht I, p. 68.  11 Johannes-Evangelium, pp.  294, 295 and 296. The internal quote is Barth paraphrasing what Jesus would have said to the Jews. See also the broader context of this quote: Johannes-Evangelium, pp. 287–97.  12 The previous quote serves as an indicator for Barth’s view on Scripture to which I return in Chapter  2. One might note here that Barth here suggests a somewhat secondary importance to Scripture in relation to God. The accusation from the previous quote is that the medium of revelation (here: Scripture) is given higher importance than the actual revelation. This will be discussed further in Chapter 2.   7   8



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Secondly, God also remains the object of revelation. This needs an immediate qualification: The statement should not be mistaken as an attempt at an argument for the manipulability of God, the possibility for human beings to tame and control God through denying or receiving the act of revelation. Instead, it is the logical step of the Deus dixit, a necessary consequence of God’s being subject of revelation: ‘God in his revelation, God as speaking subject, is a possible object of human speech which at once becomes a necessary object.’13 While this might seem contradictory in itself as well as contrary to the first point just made, the resolution of this tension is offered in the Trinitarian understanding of revelation. Jesus Christ is the revelation of God, the Word of God, without any further qualification. In his commentary on the Gospel of John, Barth writes on John 5.37–38: ‘Where it is known what revelation (Offenbarung) is, there has to be an awareness of the revealer (Offenbarer), of the one who is simultaneously its object and its subject who has appeared amongst people.’14 God does not reveal something – God reveals Godself. The same thought is subsequently taken up in Church Dogmatics, where Barth introduces his second chapter on the revelation of God with the sentence: ‘God Himself in unimpaired unity yet also in unimpaired distinction is Revealer, Revelation, and Revealedness.’15 God is, thus, object of revelation, but only because God is also its subject. Thirdly, revelation is always personal and particular, rather than abstract and general. The dynamics of revelation are that there has to be the possibility of the absence of revelation, and revelation cannot be defaulted as self-evident: ‘God is completely inconceivable, concealed, and absent for those whom he does not address and who are not addressed by him.’16 Consequently, the concept of revelation and the concept of human existence inform each other and just as revelation cannot be understood systematically, the same applies to the human being:17 ‘God’s revelation takes place in a unity and simultaneity of GD, p. 57. Unterricht I, p. 68. Johannes-Evangelium, p.  294. (‘Where there is knowledge of what revelation is, there has to be a sense for the revealer, for the one who is in it simultaneously its object and the subject that was revealed to humankind.’).  15 CD I/1, p. 295; KD I/1, p. 311.  16 GD, p. 58; Unterricht I, p. 69. This is, as it will be seen below in ‘The universality of the revelation in Christ’ (pp. 21–24), not in contradiction to the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ, but rather points to the dynamic understanding of revelation, which will also be examined there.  17 See GD, p. 76; Unterricht I, pp. 91–92.  13  14

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Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

unveiling and veiling, and… the knowledge of revelation thus takes place in a unity and simultaneity of conceiving and nonconceiving, because at one and the same time we both share in it and do not share in it.’18 The starting point, as it has already been pointed out, remains God, yet revelation would not be revelation without the active participation of the human being, be it negative in rejection and unbelief or positive in faith and obedience: ‘the doctrine of revelation is not only not complete but is not the doctrine of revelation at all if this final element is missing. As revelation would not be revelation if God did not reveal himself, if God did not reveal himself, if God did not reveal himself to man, so it would not be revelation if as God reveals himself to man he were not manifest to him, did not not [sic] come to him, did not enter into him.’19 Although not bound by a human component, the dogmatic thought expressed by Barth is nonetheless intimately linked to such a human role: ‘without a corresponding ethics, dogmatics would not be the full and complete presentation of revelation.’20 In line with the Trinitarian character of his doctrine of revelation, Barth emphasizes in this context the role of the Holy Spirit, who ‘forces us to do what we cannot do, that is, to believe in God, not because we have access to God but because he, the Holy Spirit, is himself God and creates access where there is none.’21 This does not limit human freedom to reject the revelation, but instead it is God’s particular and personal address to the individual. Fourthly, a twofold comment is necessary about time. On the one hand, regarding the time of revelation, Barth argues for a position of revelation beyond and fully in time. ‘Revelation is what it is in time, but as the frontier of time, remote from us as heaven is from earth.’22 Revelation is always an event; the event of revelation underlines that God is also God of time, and re-emphasizes thus God’s sovereignty in this sphere as well. In relation to this point, it points to the pivotal importance of the revelation in Jesus Christ, ‘The time we mean when we say Jesus Christ is not to be confused with any other

GD, p. 426; Unterricht II, p. 248. GD, p. 191. Unterricht I, p. 236. Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Theology of Karl Barth (trans. Edward T. Oakes, S.J.; San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 1992), p. 222. We will find a similar move towards an ethical component in the doctrine of election, see Chapter 4.  21 GD, p. 197; Unterricht I, p. 243.  22 GD, p. 15; Unterricht I, p. 20. See for the following also CD I/2, pp. 45–121; KD I/2, pp. 50–133.  18  19  20



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time.’23 In a sense, the use of the term ‘event’ points to both a particular time and being intimately connected to a person, Jesus Christ. On the other hand, revelation meets people in a particular time. That means that the God who is beyond time touches the human in her time and, while not eliminating it, ‘His [God’s] genuine time takes the place of the problematic, improper time we know and have. It replaces it in that, amid the years and ages of this time of ours, the time of Jesus Christ takes the place of our time, coming to us as a glad message presented to us as a promise, and to be seized and lived in by us.’24 This is the event of revelation, which is meeting people in their context at a special time.25 Fifthly and finally, Barth stresses the completeness of the revelation. God, in his Trinitarian being, has been revealed in full, and thus, ‘makes superfluous and meaningless the question whether there is some special content of revelation alongside the fact that it is his revelation.’26 Barth continues: ‘the revelation of this God is not quantitative or partial, because no matter in which person he reveals himself he is always the one God, and always reveals the whole, always reveals himself.’27 This has immediate impact upon how the Trinity is understood and further illustrates the focus of Barth’s theology: ‘because the content of revelation is not a second thing alongside God, but a second in God, the fullness of God in the Son, for this reason we can and must say: “by faith alone”.’28 By faith – and by no other means – whosoever has seen Jesus Christ the Son has seen the Father (Jn 14.9). This is the case because God is known first and foremost to Godself, and human recognition of God in fullness is based solely on this: ‘the knowability of God among us and for us, which lies at the foundation of the fulfilment of our real knowledge of God, is first and properly God’s own possibility. From eternity and in eternity God is knowable to Himself. For this reason and in this way He is also knowable among us and for us. It is because this is so that the foundation of CD I/2, p.  51; KD I/2, p.  57. See also the title of the subsections 2 and 3 of §14, ‘The Time of Expectation’ and ‘The Time of Recollection’ respectively. The turning point of history is the incarnation, ‘Deus praesens’ (CD I/1, p. 50; KD I/1, p. 55).  24 CD I/2, p. 55; KD I/2, p. 61.  25 This will be further expanded upon below in ‘The universality of the revelation in Christ’ (pp. 21–24) when discussing the universal applicability of the revelation in Jesus Christ.  26 GD, p. 96; Unterricht I, p. 116.  27 GD, p. 96; Unterricht I, p. 117.  28 GD, p. 122; Unterricht I, 150. See also Johannes-Evangelium, p. 294.  23

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our knowledge of God is so sure, and the knowledge of God such a powerful and irresistible event.’29 After this exposition of some of the basic aspects of Barth’s understanding of revelation, it seems self-evident that the doctrine of revelation will claim a pivotal role as a foundational theme in his Church Dogmatics. Indeed, Barth begins his Church Dogmatics with establishing the ‘Word of God’ as criterion of dogmatics in Chapter 1. The Word of God is thereby understood as having a threefold character: It is the proclaimed, the written and the revealed Word of God.30 Afterwards, Barth moves in Chapter 2 of Church Dogmatics to the question of ‘The Revelation of God.’ Again, Barth understands revelation in a Trinitarian fashion: ‘the revelation attested in Holy Scripture is the revelation of the God who, as the Lord, is the Father from whom it proceeds, the Son who fulfils it objectively (for us), and the Holy Spirit who fulfils it subjectively (in us).’31 Jesus Christ is thereby the ‘objective reality of revelation,’ i.e. the way Jesus Christ has been revealed in Scripture32 as well as the ‘objective possibility of revelation,’ i.e. the way this reality has the possibility to become revelation to man.33 Furthermore, the Holy Spirit is of importance with regard to the subjective reality and possibility of revelation (Church Dogmatics, §16.1 and §16.2). For our purpose in this context, a dialectical relationship is established: Keeping in mind that ‘the Holy Spirit is not a dialectician,’34 God, through the work of the Holy Spirit, is the one to make revelation possible. The Trinitarian CD II/1, p. 67; KD II/1, p. 72. CD I/1, pp. 88–124; KD I/1, pp. 89–128.  31 CD I/2, p. 1. KD I/2, p. 1. For the interconnected relationship between revelation and the Trinity, see also CD I/1, pp. 295–347; KD I/1, pp. 311–67. For the relationship between the Trinity and the doctrine of revelation, see Barth’s outline in CD I/1, pp. 311–14; KD I/1, pp. 328–31, particularly: ‘We are not saying, then, that revelation is the basis of the Trinity, as though God were the triune God only in His revelation and only for the sake of His revelation. What we are saying is that revelation is the basis of the doctrine of the Trinity; the doctrine of the Trinity has no other basis apart from this. We arrive at the doctrine of the Trinity by no other way than that of an analysis of the concept of revelation’ (CD I/1, p.  312; KD I/1, p.  329). For the Trinitarian shape of Karl Barth’s theology in general, see: Eberhard Jüngel, God’s Being is in Becoming – The Trinitarian Being of God in the Theology of Karl Barth (trans. and intro. John B. Webster; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001). While the study as a whole provides helpful insights into the Trinitarian character of Barth’s theology, special attention to Barth’s doctrine of revelation is given in Chapter 1 (pp. 13–53).  32 See CD I/2, p. 15; KD I/2, pp.  16–17. On the notion of how God in Jesus Christ remains the ‘subject’ of revelation, see the first and second point above and Johannes-Evangelium, particularly pp. 111–15.  33 ‘How far has the reality Jesus Christ the power (potestas, virtus, δύναμις) to be the reality of revelation?’ (CD I/2, p. 27; KD I/2, p. 30).  34 CD I/2, p. 246; KD I/2, p. 268.  29  30



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dimension of revelation can therefore be summed up: ‘It is Christ, the Word of God, brought to the hearing of man by the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, who is man’s possibility of being the recipient of divine revelation. Therefore this receiving, this revealedness of God for us, is really itself revelation. In no less a sense than the incarnation of the Word in Christ, it is the divine act of lordship, the mystery and the miracle of the existence of God among us, the triumph of free grace.’35 To summarize further: ‘Our own freedom and possibility to be encountered (Widerfahrnis) by revelation must be completely talked out of us; talked out of us so that this being encountered (Widerfahrnis) may be possible. To become free for God, we must be convicted (überführt) of the fact that we are not free already. Room must be made for the miracle of the knowledge of the Word of God.’36 The activity of the Holy Spirit is once more an illustration of the first point made: In revelation, God is supremely subject. Consequently, revelation is God’s sovereign act in freedom. For the revelatory event, there are no anthropological Anknüpfungspunkte;37 the human being is only free for revelation as determined by the freedom of God.

Revelation replacing sin? A conversation with Gustaf Wingren Building on this last summary statement, this section will critically examine the starting point of revelation in Barth. According to the Lutheran theologian Gustaf Wingren, this argument for revelation ‘from above’ is not convincing. Wingren’s core criticism is the antithetical set-up between God and man,38 and CD I/2, p. 249; KD I/2, p. 272. This truly Trinitarian dimension gets lost in Greggs’ recent study on universal salvation in Barth. (Tom Greggs, Barth, Origen, and Universal Salvation [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009]). Greggs discusses revelation only in the context of Barth’s pneumatology (particularly pp. 128–32). The very organization of the book (Part I, ‘Universalism in the Son’; Part 2, ‘Particularity through the Holy Spirit’) seems not to heed the warning issued by Barth in this context: ‘Where the Holy Spirit is sundered from Christ, sooner or later He is always transmuted into quite a different spirit, the spirit of the religious man, and finally the human spirit in general’ (CD I/2, p. 251; KD I/2, p. 273).  36 CD I/2, p. 258 rev.; KD I/2, p. 281. The word ‘meeting,’ which is here mistakenly used to translate widerfahren is an example of the importance of the correct word used in translation. For example, in Dogmatics in Outline, ‘meeting’ is used correctly to translate the German word Begegnung. ‘In Christian faith, we are concerned quite decisively with a meeting’ (Dogmatics in Outline, 7). The original reads: ‘Es handelt sich im christlichen Glauben ja entscheidend um eine Begegnung’ (Dogmatik im Grundriß, 17). Had the word ‘meeting’ been used in both contexts, a parallel would have been established between revelation and faith, which does not seem to be correct.  37 CD I/2, pp. 263–65; KD I/2, pp. 287–89.  38 This is a criticism that he shares with others such as Hans Urs von Balthasar. Von Balthasar points to an hourglass, and considers Barth’s theology as the point ‘where the two contiguous vessels (God and creature) meet only at the narrow passage through the center: where they both encounter each  35

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the fact that Barth does not seem to allow a human component to influence his theological starting point: ‘By refusing to start either with religion or piety, and instead [beginning] with the Word directed to man, which is God’s address to man, and which never can become man’s possession or a quality in himself,’ Wingren argues: ‘Barth wants to make God the center of theology.’39 In Wingren’s opinion, this has devastating results: ‘“revelation” stands in the place where “justification,” or “forgiveness of sins,” i.e., the gospel in the essential meaning of that word, ought to stand.’40 The question becomes: Does Barth’s grounding of his dogmatic thought in the doctrine of revelation deny the theological enterprise any room for human growth and responsibility? Before answering the question, it should be noted at this point that there is a certain tension inherent to the setup of Wingren’s criticism. Kelsey says about Wingren’s argument: ‘This is an inappropriate way to start critical analyses of theological positions because it trades on a very misleading picture of how such positions are organized. It supposes that a theological position is held together by, or indeed consists in, one long overarching argument.’41 As it has been pointed out, Wingren does not always do justice to Barth in all matters;42 however, the question at the heart of Wingren’s criticism of whether Barth’s emphasis on God’s action makes any human involvement really superfluous still holds. We have already pointed out that Barth saw the failure of Neo-Protestantism in its starting point in the human rather than with God. This will become evident later on in Chapter 2 when discussing the theme of religion, but also in the context of theological anthropology in Chapter 3. However, Wingren’s criticism that revelation is replacing sin, justification and, in fact, the Gospel,

other in Jesus Christ… just as the sand flows only from top to bottom, so too God’s revelation is one-sided, flowing from his gracious decision alone’ (von Balthasar, The Theology of Karl Barth, p. 197). Von Balthasar’s critique of Barth is useful, yet for the present purpose less appropriate, as it takes a different angle from Wingren’s.  39 Gustaf Wingren, Theology in Conflict – Nygren, Barth, Bultmann (trans. Eric H. Walstrom; Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1958), p. 25.  40 Ibid., pp. 28–29. We are here primarily interested in the part of Wingren’s argument that concerns revelation. We will turn to Barth’s understanding of sin in more detail in Chapter 3.  41 David H. Kelsey, The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology (London: SCM Press, 1975), p. 136. Kelsey continues: ‘It suggests that the discussions of all other theological loci are fairly tightly controlled by what is said on the locus with which the system “begins.”’  42 See Rowan D. Williams, ‘Barth on the Triune God,’ in S. W. Sykes (ed.), Karl Barth: Studies of his Theological Method (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), pp.  147–93. Williams discusses Wingren especially on pp. 172–76.



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will need a response. Put differently, we need to examine whether Barth’s strong emphasis on divine initiative in revelation does not result in too negative a view of the human being, which makes revelation superfluous. Two things will have to be noted here: First, a tension arises with regard to the human reaction to revelation. On the one hand, for Barth, revelation would not be revelation without an addressee, i.e. somebody who would recognize it as such and react to it accordingly. The revelation of God does not happen in or to an empty void; God, in perfect freedom has decided to be in relationship with the human race. On the other hand, Barth is very clear that revelation cannot be made dependent on this human response. This has already been seen in the corresponding ethic to Barth’s dogmatic thought.43 All that can be said about Barth’s doctrine of revelation will have to be seen against the background of God’s freedom, and not the human ability to receive this revelation. Secondly, this argument against Wingren should not be understood as denying a strong relationship between revelation and election and justification in Barth’s theology. This will become important again in the context of the doctrine of election in Chapter 4; indeed, there is much to be said about grace as the overarching theme of God’s actions. God’s gracious decision to reveal Godself to humanity does nowhere eliminate sin as a concept and action: ‘The doctrine of election is the sum of the Gospel because of all words that can be said or heard it is the best; that God elects man; that God is for man too the One who loves in freedom. It is grounded in the knowledge of Jesus Christ because He is both the electing God and elected man in One.’44 With regard to Wingren’s charge that ‘there is in Barth’s theology no active power of sin, no tyrannical, demonic power that subjects man to slavery and which God destroys in his work of redemption,’45 the following has to be noted: Not only does Barth give a subsection of §69 of Church Dogmatics the title ‘Jesus is Victor,’ but he also engages with the concept of the nature of this victory throughout the paragraph as a whole.46 It is in the context of this section that Barth reacts to precisely this charge with a certain degree of See GD, p. 191; Unterricht I, p. 236. CD II/2, p. 3; KD II/2, p. 1. See Chapter 3 on Barth’s doctrine of sin and Chapter 4 for the motif of grace in his doctrine of election.  45 Wingren, Theology in Conflict, p. 25.  46 See e.g. CD IV/3.1, pp. 168–72. KD IV/3.1, pp. 192–97.  43  44

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dismay: Barth intentionally does not deal with evil as it does not belong to God and God’s creation: ‘Thinking and speaking about the devil can only result – except when we have a handy ink-pot to throw at him – in our turning our backs on him… He cannot really be given a proper place or locus in theology, just because he has to be reckoned with so seriously.’47 It is therefore neither helpful nor accurate to confuse the starting point of revelation with a move of revelation replacing sin, justification or the Gospel. While it is certainly true that Barth’s doctrine of revelation shapes his approach to these areas, this should at no point be seen as replacing them and not a ‘lack of concern with human growth.’48 Instead, Barth’s starting point in revelation is an approach that sees the theological work being rooted in the question of who God is – and takes all the implications of this starting point as a subsequent step. For Barth, it is therefore completely possible to have his theological system starting with revelation.49 Barth maintains an antithetical relationship between God and the human being in the sense that revelation is something that comes to the human being from God. However, Barth does not stop here. The revelatory event, while happening clearly extra nos, does also have consequences pro nobis and in nobis. This means, on the one hand, that Barth avoids a solution ‘according to which the in nobis, the liberation of the human itself would be understood as a dependent (unselbständiger) addition, as mere reflection of the act of liberation which was achieved in Jesus Christ and his story, i.e. extra nos.’50 On the other hand, Barth also argues against an approach ‘according to which, by contrast, Jesus Christ and what has happened in His CD IV/3.1, p. 261; KD IV/3.1, pp. 300–1. Barth concludes his assessment of Wingren as follows: ‘And I must simply accept it as best I can if G. Wingren really thinks that he fails to find him [the devil] at all in my theology. He has many other ideas concerning me at which I can only shake my head in astonishment’ (CD IV/3.1, p. 261; KD IV/3.1, p. 301). Barth therefore refuses to concede to Wingren’s charge to examine an evil power in his theology. As it will be seen in Chapter 3, a similar move occurs in Barth’s understanding of sin as nothingness.  48 This is the point on which Rowan Williams finishes his analysis of Barth. Williams argues: ‘I consider Barth’s failure to be a certain lack of concern with human growth, human diversity, and human freedom of response – with the possibility and character of adult relationship with God…’ (Williams, ‘Barth on the Triune God,’ p. 192). The question of human freedom will be examined in more detail in other contexts, such as in Chapter 4 in the context of election, particularly pp. 138–41, as well as the concluding Chapter 7.  49 For this paragraph, see Barth’s detailed explanation of the processes involved here succinctly summarized in Karl Barth, ‘Extra nos – pro nobis – in nobis,’ in Helmut Gollwitzer and Hellmut Traub (eds), Hören und Handeln – Festschrift für Ernst Wolf zum 60. Geburtstag (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1962), pp. 15–27. Barth offers here a view of the Christian life based on revelation that avoids both anthropocentrism and Christomonism.  50 Ibid., p. 22.  47



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story extra nos, would be understood as mere predicative and vehicle, merely as key and symbol, even, of that what actually happened in reality only in nobis, as a story whose subject is nobody but the human himself.’51 Instead, Barth suggests that the starting point of revelation extra nos has happened indeed pro nobis, and has an ongoing impact in nobis as the human being is enabled to live her life in faithfulness to the Gospel.

The universality of the revelation in Christ The reference to the personal pronoun in the first person plural (nos – nobis) in the preceding paragraph deserves some attention. It is illustrative of one recurring theme of Barth’s theology, described in the context of the doctrine of revelation most clearly as the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ to all human beings – whether they have heard of this revelation or not.52 There are a number of aspects to this statement that deserve attention. First, it is important to note that the restrictive understanding of revelation in Jesus Christ is only properly understood when underlining its all-encompassing applicability. The fact that Barth takes this approach is illustrated for example in the following excerpt from a sermon, preached in the prison of Basel in 1957: For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all. Dear Brothers and Sisters! You might have noticed immediately that this is not a word that is that easy to understand. And I confess to you openly that I, having read during my rather long life again and again Paul’s Letter to the Romans, am still far from grasping many things that are in the Bible, including this word here. It gives me things to

Ibid., p. 23. For the following, see also Barth’s exegesis of John 1.4 in Johannes-Evangelium, pp.  43–53. Of particular importance for the context here is Barth’s argument that, independent from the variety of responses of the human being, the light of this revelation shines in the world: ‘The life was revealed to the world, put in front of their eyes and ears, in order that they might not forget it, not overlook it, not suppress their unrest and longing for it, not be able to deny the call that it meant for them. This life of salvation (Erlösungsleben) was – as v. 4b puts it, ἐν αὐτῷ, contained and represented in the Word of God – the light of humanity, the light of revelation that shone for them’ (p. 50). Throughout the exegesis of the whole prologue to the Gospel of John, Barth examines the implications of this, building on the scholarship available to him at this point.

 51  52

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Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions consider again and again. However, one thing is sure: that exactly in this word in a very hard shell, a wonderful, valuable core is hidden.53

The following can be deduced from this sermon: The revelation of Jesus Christ is relevant to all of humanity, whether they are aware of this revelation or not, ‘as Christ has been revealed to the world and not only to the Christians. He is the “Light of the world” [Jn 8.12].’54 This carries a number of ramifications: a) The historical moment of the revelation of Jesus Christ is an event fully in time. We noted this already in our list of characteristics of Barth’s doctrine of revelation in pages 11–17, yet it has the following consequence here: On the one hand, the event of Jesus Christ is a fixed moment in history (the moment of the extra nos). However, on the other hand, the implications of this in the form of the pro nobis and in nobis are ongoing. The truth of the revelation of Jesus Christ ‘is the fixed star which shines unchanged above all the clouds created by him [the human being], pursuing its own course without deviation.’55 It also provides b) the basis for Barth’s theory of lights (Lichterlehre) to which we turn in detail below in pages 31–40, as well as again in Chapter 2. The universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ makes it possible for other lights to be found scattered throughout creation. The Light of the revelation of Jesus Christ shines throughout the world. In this sense, the theory of lights will have to be read as an extension in complete consistency with the earlier teaching on revelation.56 Finally, it means c) that the proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ will always have to be done based on the universal applicability of See Karl Barth, ‘Alle! Römer 11,32 (1957),’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp.  81–89. Barth relates the simultaneity of ‘disobedience’ and ‘mercy,’ emphatically underlining that God’s actions are determined by mercy (‘The Lord is… not a destroyer,’ pp. 86–87). Additionally, Barth invites the listeners to accept that they are part of the ‘everyone’ (p. 83). The word of mercy God has spoken in Jesus Christ applies to all human beings, as reflected in the quote from Romans on which the sermon is based. The same is true of disobedience. By arguing that Jesus Christ is our Lord, Barth calls everyone, including himself, to acknowledge their disobedience. We will find a similar pairing when examining Barth’s doctrine of election in Chapter 4 and the simultaneous election and rejection in Jesus Christ. This sermon is one of the best examples of how Barth relates the revelation of Jesus Christ to his doctrine of election. It also illustrates how he saw his doctrinal thought being supported by Scripture.  54 Karl Barth, ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22./23.10.1967),’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28), (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 392–402 (400). Barth answers here a question to his theory of lights (Lichterlehre), to which we will turn in more detail below in ‘The theory of lights’ (pp. 31–40).  55 KD IV/3.1, p. 475; CD IV/3.1, p. 546.  56 This is in agreement with Jüngel’s interpretation to which I return below and is contrary to Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen’s understanding that the theory of lights is ‘a change of tone, if not opinion’ to earlier volumes of Church Dogmatics (Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Religious Pluralism – The Doctrine of the Trinity in Christian Theology of Religions [Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004], p. 17).  53



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this revelation of Jesus Christ. Those who are living their Christian life in the world are to do so with the conviction ‘that Christ, the Victor, the Kyrios of all peoples is already there where the one proclaiming the Good News arrives, that he who proclaims the Good News may with the objective right already address and consider the unfamiliar “worldview” in the light of Jesus Christ.’57 We will return to this point again in pages 40–43. Secondly, and linked to this previous point, the broader application of this is that the universal revelation of Jesus Christ carries with it various consequences which will also apply to everyone. Concretely, this means that the question of universalism, which is primarily a soteriological question, will find its foundation and an initial answer already in the doctrine of revelation. In the introduction, we defined universalism as a position that pairs an emphasis on God’s goodness with the proposition that, ultimately, all human beings will be saved. Revelation, as it has been outlined, relates thereby as follows: ‘the issue of hell and universalism is closely interconnected with other difficult and debated theological issues, such as predestination and free will, the validity of retributive punishment, the authority of the Bible, and (most centrally) the nature of God, the meaning of and the relationship between His love and His justice.’58 The universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ thus means that it is ‘the Word of His cross, the Word of God, the promise of the Spirit. Whether it pleases him [the human being] or not, whether it cheers or startles him, this is its substance, promise and claim. Wholly and utterly and in every respect it is his pardon which is declared by the true Witness of the truth.’59 We will develop this thought throughout the following chapters, particularly in Chapter 4 when dealing with the doctrine of election. For the moment, it remains to note that the inherent dynamic of this means that everyone is to be considered in the light of the revelation of Jesus Christ. To summarize this first section: We have developed a list of characteristics of Barth’s doctrine of revelation. Three main points are to be taken away: First, Hans Urs von Balthasar, ‘Christlicher Universalismus,’ in Antwort: Karl Barth zum siebzigsten Geburtstag (Zürich: Zollikon Evangelischer Verlag, 1956), pp. 237–48 (246).  58 Richard Bauckham, ‘Universalism: A Historical Survey,’ Themelios 4 (1978), pp. 48–54 (48).  59 CD IV/3.1, p. 464; KD IV/3.1, pp. 533–34. The German uses here a play on words, which is not translatable into English. The sentence ‘Whether it pleases him or not, whether it cheers or startles him, this is its substance, promise and claim’ reads in the original: ‘Ob es ihm gefalle oder nicht gefalle, ob es ihn ermuntere oder erschrecke: so wird der Mensch angesprochen, das wird ihm zugesprochen, dafür wird er in Anspruch genommen’ (my emphasis).  57

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God remains both subject and object in revelation. Secondly, the doctrine of revelation is the starting point of Barth’s theology, yet this should not be considered as eliminating other dogmatic aspects. Thirdly, and finally, the revelation of Jesus Christ has universal significance insofar as every human being is to be considered in the light of the revelation of Jesus Christ.

The one revelation of Jesus Christ and other revelations I am now turning to the differentiation between revelation and revelations. It has become obvious that, for Barth, the revelation of Jesus Christ is the one of sole importance. However, as this has universal significance, this is not the end of Barth’s argument; rather, it is only the beginning. This distinction between the one revelation in Jesus Christ and other revelations is most clearly to be found in Barth’s theory of lights (Lichterlehre) (Church Dogmatics, IV/3.1, §69), which I will examine in ‘The theory of lights’ (pp. 31–40). However, before this we will need to examine the historical background of this development, and for this purpose, one needs to look particularly at the Barmen Declaration (pp. 24–27), as well as Barth’s understanding of different media of revelation (pp. 27–31).

The Barmen Declaration Barth’s theory of lights is, according to Eberhard Jüngel, a ‘new teaching [which] is a positive extension of his old critique of religion and not a retraction of it.’60 Jüngel points in this context to Barth’s engagement with the first article of the Barmen Declaration, which reads: ‘We reject the false doctrine that the Church can and must, as the source of its proclamation, recognise other events and powers, forms and truths, as the revelation of God outside and alongside this one Word of God.’61 The Barmen Declaration, Jüngel, Karl Barth – A Theological Legacy, p. 50. Jüngel also refers here to Okko Herlyn, Religion oder Gebet – Karl Barths Bedeutung für ein ‘religionsloses Christentum’ (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1979). Herlyn’s book is a helpful resource that compares and contrasts Barth’s understanding of religion with his theology of prayer. We will discuss Herlyn’s work in Chapter 2.  61 See e.g. CD IV/3.1, p. 86; KD IV/3.1, pp. 95–96. For a full discussion of the article, see also CD II/1, pp.  172–78; KD II/1, pp.  194–200. For further material on the Barmen Declaration, see e.g. for the historical development towards the declaration: Christoph Barth, Bekenntnis im Werden  60



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drafted in 1934, was primarily a reaction against ‘the desire to retain the social and cultural prestige of the church at any price, and could bring to bear on the events of the Nazi takeover a startlingly clear theological position in which the church was wholly defined by its confession of Jesus Christ.’62 Barth’s emphasis on God as the simultaneous subject and object in revelation, underlined repeatedly in ‘Approaching the doctrine of revelation’ (pp. 10–21), is an illustration of the meaning of the first article of the Declaration. The emphasis on the unique revelation of Jesus Christ has to be seen in comparison to the earliest accounts of a teaching on revelation in Barth’s writings before Church Dogmatics. While these are not in opposition to everything that will be discussed on pages 24–40, there is nonetheless a degree of generosity regarding the lights and where they can appear, which might at first be lacking in the Barmen Declaration. Here, the sermons before the writings from pages 10–21 (i.e. the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion and the Erklärung des Johannesevangeliums) are of particular relevance. Out of the vast amount of these, the following sermon on Isaiah 60.19–2063 from the year 1922 will serve as an illustration.64 First, it has to be noted that Barth is dealing on the one hand with literal lights such as sun and moon. The statement, ‘the Lord will be your everlasting – Neue Quellen zur Entstehung der Barmer Erklärung (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1979). For statements by Karl Barth at the release of the Declaration and subsequent interviews regarding its importance, see Karl Barth, Texte zur Barmer Theologischen Erklärung (intro. Eberhard Jüngel and an edition-summary by Marting Rohkrämer; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 1984). For additional, unpublished material by Karl Barth in Church Dogmatics, see Karl Barth, Unveröffentlichte Texte zur Kirchlichen Dogmatik – Supplemente zur Gesamtausgabe. 1 (CD-ROM) (ed. Hans-Anton Drewes; Zürich: TVZ, 2005). This volume of the Barth Gesamtausgabe has only been released on CD-ROM, the material can be found on pages 9–13 of the PDF.  62 John B. Webster, ‘Introducing Barth,’ in John B. Webster (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 6.  63 ‘The sun shall no longer be your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you by night; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. Your sun shall no more go down, or your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended’ (Isa. 60.19–20, NRSV).  64 Karl Barth, ‘Das Ewige Licht, Jesaja 60, 19–20 – 7 Mai 1922, Reformierte Kirche Göttingen,’ in Predigten 1921–1935 (GA I.31) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich: TVZ, 1998), pp. 8–17. The sermon was preached in the Reformed Church in Göttingen on 7 May 1922. This sermon is after the publication of the second edition of Barth’s commentary on the letter to the Romans. The points made here can also be found scattered throughout this commentary usually used more often in scholarship. For our purpose here to contrast the light and the lights, this sermon provides a condensed version of what is said in Barth’s commentary on Romans at various instances (see, e.g. for the illustration of the light-darkness contrast, Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans [trans. Edwyn C. Hopkins; London: Oxford University Press, 1933], pp.  42–54; for the contrast of lights and light, ibid., pp. 47–48; for the universality of the Light, ibid., pp. 112–14; for the overcoming of the lights by the Light, ibid., pp. 104–07).

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light,’ has a twofold meaning: ‘first, all lights, also the largest and brightest, also sun and moon, must lose their splendour and brightness; another, incomparable light wants to take their place.’65 Together with this, ‘the sun of this one light will not go down, and the moon of this one light will not lose its brightness.’66 Barth takes this as a starting point to distinguish carefully between this one Light, and the lights. We notice here again the universal applicability of the one Light of the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, which we discussed on pages 21–24. Secondly, Barth stresses that the one Light is primarily in opposition to darkness, rather than the other lights. This includes the Christian community, who ‘often stand in the shadow of a deep godlessness.’67 Barth acknowledges that this might be due to and justifiable through the Christian religion; however, it is irreconcilable with the word of God.68 This will be one of our key thoughts when we are examining the relationship between revelation and religion in Chapter 2. In the light of the argument there, we will see that revelation works in a number of ways as the Aufhebung of religion with both positive and negative consequences for religion. Thirdly, with regard to the other lights, Barth affirms their existence, yet, against the one Light, these are ‘shining lights, which will disappear [and they] are the lights which God has kindled on the fourth day of creation.’69 While this goes back to the Creation account in the book of Genesis, Barth broadens the context of these lights, arguing that ‘nobody has the right to put out these lights by themselves, yet nobody has the right either to confuse these lights with God’s eternal light.’70 At a later point, Barth argues in volume I/2 of Church Dogmatics: ‘There is no independent standpoint from which we can survey and either approve or disapprove the ways of God (as though we could suggest other ways to God).’71 This last point is the background against which the first statement of the Barmen Declaration has to be read. As Eberhard Busch asserts correctly, the

Barth, ‘Das Ewige Licht,’ p. 9. Ibid. Ibid., p. 12.  68 Ibid.  69 Ibid., p. 15.  70 Ibid., p. 16.  71 CD I/2, p. 246, KD I/2, p. 269.  65  66  67



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first point of the Barmen Declaration ‘repudiated the German Christians who saw, alongside the revelation attested in Scripture, the “German Hour of 1933” as a kind of divine revelation.’72 Therefore, nothing that can be said about any revelations alongside the revelation of Jesus Christ will be able to contradict or diminish this one revelation. However, as will be seen, Barth allows from an early start the possibility of God using different media to communicate this revelation. From a historical point of view, the Barmen Declaration might be closer to the early volumes of Church Dogmatics (i.e. particularly the following pages 27–31, as well as Chapter 2 dealing with the question of revelation and religion) and only considered a necessary step given the historical context. However, Barth, on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of the declaration rejects such a purely historical interpretation in 1954: ‘It has always been a helpful measure when the Church has found itself forced by a threat from within or without to confess her faith. However, whenever she has done so, as she did in Barmen, she has always also expressed something binding and committing about her future.’73 Therefore, with the Barmen Declaration, a background is established for much that will be said in the following with regard to Barth’s doctrine of revelation in relation to other revelations. It is therefore not merely a historical document, but also of immense theological significance.74

Media of revelation – the God who may speak through ‘dead dogs’ So far, we have seen that in revelation, God remains subject and object in perfect sovereignty and freedom. ‘The Barmen Declaration’ (pp. 24–27) established the background of the Barmen Declaration that asserts the one revelation Eberhard Busch, The Great Passion – An Introduction to Karl Barth’s Theology (eds Darrell L. Guder and Judith J. Guder; trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmanns, 2004), p. 67.  73 Karl Barth, ‘Was bedeutet uns Barmen heute?’ in Karl Barth, ‘Der Götze wackelt:’ Zeitkritische Aufsätze, Reden und Briefe von 1930 bis 1960 (ed. Karl Kupisch; Berlin: Käthe Vogt Verlag, 1961), p. 163.  74 For another, later evaluation of the importance of the Barmen Declaration, see the publication on its fiftieth anniversary: Landessynode 1984 – Eröffnungspredigt, Bibelarbeit, Vorträge zum Thema ‘Barmen 1934–1984’ published by the Evangelical Church of the Rhineland (Evangelische Kirche im Rheinland). Of particular importance in the volume is the extensive evaluation by Eberhard Jüngel, ‘Die Bedeutung der Barmer Theologischen Erklärung für die Gegenwart und für den Auftrag der Kirche heute,’ pp. 81–118. Jüngel offers here a discussion of the individual articles of the Declaration, yet also argues for a continuing relevance of the different articles both for the relation of the Church to the State, as well as for the task of the Church.  72

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in Jesus Christ as the basis of the Church’s proclamation. Before reaching the point of discussing Barth’s Lichterlehre, one additional concept needs further attention, media of revelation. Against the background of the one revelation in Jesus Christ, the following quote from Church Dogmatics, I/1 might at first seem strange: ‘God may speak to us through Russian Communism, a flute concerto, a blossoming shrub, or a dead dog. We do well to listen to Him if He really does.’75 In the light of everything that has been said so far, how is this to be interpreted? Hart brushes over this statement by stating rather sceptically: ‘the relation between the two natures (or, correspondingly, the form and content of revelation) [cannot] be entirely arbitrary or merely tangential; otherwise, it would be a matter of sheer caprice for God to “reveal” himself in the man Jesus rather than Ivan the Terrible or a dead dog. That God could do so is not really the point.’76 While this might seem self-evident to Hart, the reality does not seem to be as straightforward.77 First, it would most certainly be safe to assume that God does not usually speak through dogs, not to mention dead ones. However, that does not mean that God is not able to do so and cannot use a dead dog as a medium of revelation. A thought experiment would, for example, take the following shape: A dead dog reminds me of the frailty of life, both animal and human. Consistent with the witness of the book of Ecclesiastes, it reminds me that, ultimately, we are dust, and to dust we shall return.78 It also reminds me that we, as human beings, are the sole bearers of the image of God and may lead me to examine my ways and ask how faithful I am to that on a day-to-day basis.79 Finally, it serves as a reminder of the eternal life that I have in Jesus Christ.80 In this sense, a dead dog can be a medium of revelation and God can

CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, p. 55. Hart, ‘Revelation,’ p. 52. Hart does not give a reference to Church Dogmatics here; the example of the dead dog obviously comes from the passage just quoted, whereas Ivan the Terrible is Hart’s own example.  77 Hart himself is far more cautious just a few pages before this previous quote: ‘Scripture as the prophetic and apostolic witness to God’s action in Christ, and the proclamation of the Christian church. Barth insists, though, that God cannot be bound to these media and that other vehicles for his speaking must be supposed effective for those who, by accident of history, are excluded from the sphere where these media operate. In such cases, however, we should be clear that it is the God known pre-eminently as Jesus Christ who acts and makes himself known in these other places’ (Ibid., p. 46).  78 Compare Eccl. 3.20.  79 Compare e.g. Lam. 3.40.  80 Compare Jn 3.15–16.  75

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speak through a dead dog.81 Concurrently, one will have to deny that being open to the possibility that God can speak through a dead dog leads necessarily to a ‘sacramentality’ of everything, including this dead dog.82 However, the primary purpose of asserting the existence of different media of revelation is to illustrate God’s sovereignty in all of creation. Hart’s assessment with which we started this examination is therefore incorrect insofar as the issue does not lie with divine capriciousness, yet more with divine sovereignty. This raises a second question: Does that mean that God speaks through anything and everything? One might argue that for Barth this is indeed possible, yet under no circumstances should this position be taken for granted or take centre stage. Indeed, God has spoken, according to the witness of the Scriptures, through a donkey, a gentle whisper, and it could be argued that God can speak through a pen or a Scottish castle in ruins. However, that does not mean that God does this by default, and it certainly does not mean that God does so all the time and, probably most importantly, it does not mean that we are called to proclaim this. Arguing that God speaks through everything at all times runs the risk of making God subject to the human ability to hear. Instead, I am suggesting that we can – and should – affirm that God can speak through all media. I do, however see a problem with stating that God indeed does so by default.83 The point is therefore more one of potential and capability, and less one of fact and self-evidence. In Barth’s own words, if God speaks through unfamiliar media, ‘we do well to listen to Him if He really does’84 – in This might at first seem like an arbitrary example, yet this also reminds me of a leaflet that an elderly gentleman handed me on a flight from Canada to the UK in 2009. Bearing the title ‘A faithful friend,’ the leaflet tells the story of a farmer who decides to drown his aging dog in a river. In the attempt, he accidentally falls into the river, yet is saved by the dog. The leaflet concludes ‘The faithful dog of our story turned round and saved his master’s life, but Jesus saves not for the time only but for all eternity; He gives eternal life to “whosoever will believe”’ (leaflet supplied by Gospel Truth Publications, Ottawa, Canada). It is not up to me to judge the theology or reasoning; all I am stating here is that this is obviously being distributed.  82 This is a term coined by David Brown and linked to his concept of divine generosity. Barth’s approach could be seen as undoubtedly ‘generous,’ yet through refusing the different possibilities of revelation to take the centre stage, Barth never loses sight of his central criterion against which all ‘revelations’ should be seen, Jesus Christ. (For the concept of sacramentality, see e.g. David Brown, God and the Enchantment of Place: Reclaiming Human Experience [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004], Chapter 1).  83 As suggested in David Brown, Tradition and Imagination – Revelation and Change (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999): ‘God defies our desire for tidy categories, and so in trying to tell the revelatory story we need to recognize a God at work everywhere in his world in helping to shape our comprehension of his purposes’ (p. 374). Brown acknowledges that God might not be at work equally everywhere, yet the emphasis remains on this ‘everywhere.’  84 CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, p. 55.  81

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the light of Hart’s criticism with which we started this section, one might add here, be it ever so capricious to our eyes.85 However, it seems equally clear that ‘there can be no doubt that, together with the commission which it may seek to obey by listening and responding in these other functions, the Church known to us has a special commission of proclamation, and therefore not merely of listening and response but decisively of talk about God both to men and for them, and that it neglects this commission if it seeks to proclaim what it has no commission to do or where it has no commission to do so.’86 For the Christian community, may our response always be one of awe and gratitude to and for and the proclamation of this God who in His sovereignty can use unfamiliar media to speak to us. In all this, while affirming different media of revelation, Barth decisively rejects the idea of revelation being possible apart from the triune God of Jesus Christ. In revelation, ‘the Word becomes the occasion for self-communication, self-disclosure, and self-revelation.’87 It is in this sense that Barth affirms different media of revelation, while maintaining that the subject and object of this revelation always remain the same. There is a subtle, but crucial difference between ‘God may be known through a dead dog’ and ‘God may make Godself known through a dead dog.’ The former has primarily epistemological consequences for the human, and would be rejected by Barth. The latter expresses an ontological truth about God that has subsequent consequences for the human being, and is a way to describe Barth’s approach. This subsection has illustrated that Barth allows different media of revelation within his doctrine of revelation. This is not to distract from the fact that throughout this, God remains both subject and object of revelation. We are now in the position to move to Barth’s doctrine of lights, which compares and contrasts the one revelation of Jesus Christ with other revelations.

In Chapter 2, we will return to a variation on this theme, examining Barth’s subsequent statement: ‘God may speak to us through a pagan or an atheist, and thus give us to understand that the boundary between the Church and the secular world can still take at any time a different course from that which we think we discern’ (CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, p. 56).  86 CD I/1, pp. 55–56; KD I/1, p. 56.  87 Eberhard Jüngel, Justification – The Heart of the Christian Faith – A Theological Study with an Ecumenical Purpose (trans. Jeffrey F. Cayzer; intro. John B. Webster; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001), p. 201.  85



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The theory of lights (Lichterlehre) In the context of the doctrine of reconciliation, i.e. in §69 of his Church Dogmatics Barth continues his exposition of the centrality of the person of Jesus Christ with regard to revelation in his theory of lights (Lichterlehre).88 The link to what has been said in the previous sections is the Barmen Declaration, to which Barth returns here.89 Reconciliation means God’s undivided and irreversible Yes to humanity, ‘it is the overcoming, in God’s omnipotent mercy, of the No, the contradiction, the opposition, the disruption in which man, if he were left to achieve it, would necessarily destroy his relationship to God and his fellows, and therefore himself. God does not permit him to execute this No of his, this contradiction and opposition.’90 With Jesus becoming man, the human No is swallowed up in the divine Yes, illustrating once more God’s sovereignty over creation.91 Jesus Christ is introduced as the Light of life: We have now to speak of the ‘light of life,’ of the light which life itself radiates because it is itself light. As Jesus Christ lives, He also shines out, not with an alien light which falls upon Him from without and illuminates Him, but with His own light proceeding from Himself. He lives as the source of light whose

The Lichterlehre is one of the sections which recent scholarship has incorporated into the exposition of Barth’s understanding of religion, and rightly so (e.g. Joseph A. DiNoia, ‘Religion and the Religions,’ in John B. Webster (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000], pp. 243–57). While there is an inherent link between §69 and §17 on the question of revelation and religion to which we return in Chapter 2, we are here interested in the theory of lights under the broad heading of ‘revelation.’    While scholarship is very often aware of the section, there is only a very limited amount of materials that deal with §69 specifically and in more detail. These include: Hans-Joachim Kraus, ‘Logos und Sophia – Biblisch-theologische Grundlegung und Konkretisierung zum Thema “Das Licht und die Lichter”’ and Hendrik Berkhof, ‘Barths Lichterlehre im Rahmen der heutigen Theologie, Kirche und Welt,’ both in Hendrik Berkhof and Hans-Joachim Kraus, Karl Barths Lichterlehre (Theologische Studien 123; Zürich: TVZ, 1978); Henry Mottu, ‘La lumière et les lumières – Christ et le monde selon le dernier Barth,’ Bulletin du Centre protestant d’études 40:5 (November 1988), pp.  39–54; K.-F. Wiggermann, ‘“Ein eigentümlich beschatteter Bereich’ Die Neuzeit in Karl Barths “Lichterlehre”,’ Zeitschrift für Dialektische Theologie 52:2 (2009), pp. 119–38. Reference to all these studies will be made in this section where appropriate.  89 George Hunsinger in his introduction to Karl Barth has a chapter on one aspect of §69, namely the existence of secular parables of the truth (George Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth – The Shape of his Theology [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991], pp. 234–80). His discussion lacks the historical context of the Barmen Declaration (which is only mentioned in passing on the second page of the chapter, p. 235) and focuses more on the distinction between words and Word, which is narrower than our discussion here. Furthermore, the chapter tries to bring together many aspects of Hunsinger’s book, which slightly obscure the discussion of the theory of lights.  90 CD IV/3.1, p. 3; KD IV/3.1, p. 1.  91 See also Humanity of God, pp. 59–60; Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 22. It becomes obvious here again that the examination of universalism requires the discussion of the doctrine of revelation. See also Chapter 4 on the issue of election.

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Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions shining gives light without. He does not need to receive light from without, from men, the world, or the faith of His community. On the contrary, as He lives He is Himself the light which shines on men, in His community and over the world, revealing Him to men, and men to themselves and also the world to men. As He lives, He is the light which comes and gives sight to all the eyes which as such are created and destined to see Him and everything which He discloses.92

The issue for Barth is therefore not that this ‘Light of life’ is one among other lights, but that ‘in His [Jesus Christ’s] human person there encounters us the fulness which invades the vacuum which we do not yet know, the light which falls upon the darkness of which we are not yet aware. In His person which is not ours – this necessarily means that there is revealed and made known what is not accessible to any self-understanding as such, namely, our being in a vacuum and walking in darkness.’93 Recognizing this vacuum and darkness can only occur when being encountered by this Light. To stress the uniqueness of the revelation of this Light of Jesus Christ, Barth continues to underline: ‘we must make a conscious because necessary application of the definite article. Jesus Christ is the light of life. To underline the “the” is to say that He is the one and only light of life. Positively, this means that He is the light of life in all its fulness, in perfect adequacy; and negatively, it means that there is no other light of life outside or alongside His, outside or alongside the light which He is.’94 Barth acknowledges this as being a difficult claim, which invites controversy and discussion: ‘the whole difficulty would be removed if we could be content with the mere assertion that Jesus Christ is one light of life, one word of God, the clearest perhaps; a particularly important one, and of great urgency for us; but only one of the many testimonies to the truth which have been given by others and which have also to be studied and assessed together with His.’95 However, what if we are not to subscribe to this view? Barth sees no other way than to understand the confession of Christ in such narrowness. According to Barth, even the Roman Catholic Church has done her part in distracting from this central confession in a ‘great attempt to secure the

CD IV/3.1, p. 46; KD IV/3.1, p. 49. CD IV/3.1, p. 84; KD IV/3.1, p. 93.  94 CD IV/3.1, p. 86; KD IV/3.1, p. 95.  95 CD IV/3.1, p. 87; KD IV/3.1, p. 96.  92  93



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existence of the Church in the world by a comprehensive combination of the truth of Jesus Christ with other comparatively independent truths, such as those concerning Mary, tradition and the teaching office in a first class, the truths of nature and reason in a second, and various political truths in a third and fourth, the essential statement being put under a bushel instead of on a candlestick.’96 According to Barth, though, ‘we have no option in this matter. Christian freedom is really the freedom of the confession of Jesus Christ as the one and only Prophet, light of life, and Word of God.’97 One notices that this entails a claim about who Jesus Christ is. It also coincides with the worthwhile reminder that revelation is never considered a commodity, but remains even here the event when God reveals Godself to humanity in creation. In this sense, ‘Christian freedom’ is saying as much if not even more about Jesus Christ as it does about the individuals and the community subscribing to the claim.98 However, an important insertion is made at this point: ‘the fact that Jesus Christ is the one Word of God does not mean that in the Bible, the Church and the world there are not other words which are quite notable in their way, other lights which are quite clear and other revelations (Offenbarungen) which are quite real.’99 It would be a limitation of God’s freedom to restrict the capacity of revelation only to the Church, to Scripture, to the Apostles and prophets: ‘if the whole world of creation and history is the realm of the lordship of the God at whose right hand Jesus Christ is seated, so that He exercises authority in this outer as well as the inner sphere and is free to attest Himself or to cause Himself to be attested in it.’100 The relationship between the lights and the Light of Christ is multifaceted, yet it becomes more complex when turning to CD IV/3.1, p.  88; KD IV/3.1, p.  98. Barth also acknowledges that, in this context, this is only of ‘exemplary importance’ (exemplarische Bedeutung), yet it also reflects a different approach to revelation (i.e. one that is not as opposed to natural theology as Barth suggests). For further engagement with this comment, see Chapter 2 for the context of religion.  97 CD IV/3.1, p. 90; KD IV/3.1, p. 99. Regarding the question of human freedom, see Chapter 4.  98 The same idea will be encountered again in Chapter 4 when discussing Barth’s doctrine of election and the move from election of Jesus, to election of the Church, to election of the individual.  99 CD IV/3.1, p. 97; KD IV/3.1, p. 107. The German indeed uses the term Offenbarungen for the translated term ‘revelations.’ This is not contrary to Barth’s restrictive understanding of revelation, but is a direct result of the universal applicability of the one revelation in Jesus Christ, which we examined on pages 21–24. 100 Ibid. See also CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, p. 55. (‘God may speak to us through Russian Communism, a flute concerto, a blossoming shrub, or a dead dog. We do well to listen to Him if He really does.’). See also in this context on the relation between divine freedom and sovereignty CD II/1, pp. 505–15; KD II/1, pp. 568–79.  96

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the written attestations (words) about Jesus Christ (the Word of God).101 The question becomes ‘whether there really are other words which in this sense are true in relation to the one Word of God.’102 Barth had already at the very early stages of Church Dogmatics established the threefold character of the Word of God ‘as revealed, written and proclaimed,’103 and now only applies this to the very specific questions raised in this context. He establishes the concept of circles around the centre of Jesus as the Word of God; there are three more spheres that circle around this centre – the Bible as the written Word of God, the Church and the world. About the Church and the world, Barth says: ‘In both spheres there are human words which are good because they are spoken with the commission and in the service of God. In both spheres there are words which are illuminating and helpful to the degree that God Himself gives it to them to be illuminating and helpful as such words.’104 Yet, are they ‘truth’ in the same sense that Jesus is? Negatively, Barth responds that they cannot be elevated to the same level as Jesus, who is and remains the one Word of God and Light of life. Positively, by contrast, Barth encourages the Christian community to be attentive to these words; in fact, he asks them to ‘be grateful to receive it also from without, in very different human words, in a secular parable,’105 while remaining ‘grounded in and ruled by the biblical, propheticoapostolic witness to this one Word.’106 For Barth, there is then no reason for the Christian community to display arrogance by turning away from the worldly sphere: ‘We must thus be prepared to see His sovereignty at work in these other spheres, even though we cannot see or understand it. We must be prepared to hear, even in secular occurrence, not as alien sounds but as segments of that periphery concretely orientated from its centre and towards its totality, as signs and attestations of the lordship of the one prophecy of Jesus Christ, true words which we must receive as such even though they come from this source.’107 This is consistent One needs to note here that the context of §69 is examining Jesus Christ’s ‘Prophetic Office’ (munus Christi propheticum) (see e.g. CD IV/3.1, p. 14; KD IV/3.1, p. 13). Jesus Christ is not only a prophet, but indeed, the prophet (CD IV/3.1, p. 49; KD IV/3.1, p. 53). 102 CD IV/3.1, p. 113; KD IV/3.1, p. 126. 103 CD IV/3.1, p. 114; KD IV/3.1, p. 127. 104 CD IV/3.1, p. 97; KD IV/3.1, p. 108. 105 CD IV/3.1, p. 115; KD IV/3.1, p. 128. 106 Ibid. 107 CD IV/3.1, p. 124; KD IV/3.1, p. 139. 101



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with and made possible through the argument on pages 21–24 that stressed the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ. Certainly, Barth argues against blind trust to receive revelation in the secular sphere and there will always be some fear and reservations, yet ‘in no case must they be stronger than our confidence, not in the potentialities of world history, nor in individual men, but in the sovereignty of Jesus Christ [under which those in the worldly sphere also stand]. In no case must it be stronger than the readiness to hear, and to test whether what is heard is perhaps a true word which Christianity cannot ignore as such.’108 For the Christian community, therefore, Barth encourages openness to other lights – yet these will only be recognized as such after encountering the Light of life that is the one source of light.109 Importantly, though, Barth argues for the rejection of those words that stand in any contradiction to the Word of God.110 The relationship between Jesus as the Light of life and the lights of the world is therefore one of reciprocity: These lights of the world are only to be interpreted as light because they are pointers to the Light of life. They also only shine as light because they are illuminated by the Light of life. The common denominator of all the lights is their being part of creation, of the theatrum gloriae Dei, ‘the theatre and setting, the location and background, of the ordinary and extraordinary mediation of His life and work,’111 made possible through the universal relevance of the one Light of life, the revelation of Jesus Christ. In contrast to the media of revelation from the previous sections, these lights will always be a reflection of the Light of life. Kraus is, thus, correct in arguing that ‘everything that can be said on the topic of “The Light and the lights,” can only be seen under the augury of the recognition of faith (Glaubenserkenntnis), and must not be diverted into a force field of Christian gnosis, howsoever it might be shaped.’112 Within his Lichterlehre,

CD IV/3.1, p. 124, rev.; KD IV/3.1, p. 139. See Kraus, ‘Logos und Sophia,’ p. 11. (‘Not the topic “the Light and the lights,” but “The Light and the darkness,” stands at the beginning.’) 110 See CD IV/3.1, p. 115. KD IV/3.1, p. 128. See also Berkhof, ‘Barths Lichterlehre,’ p. 47. 111 CD IV/3.1, p. 137; KD IV/3.1, p. 154. Barth introduces this point by stating that ‘this was foreseen in the eternal election of Jesus Christ.’ 112 Kraus, ‘Logos und Sophia,’ p. 26. Kraus is further correct to point at this point to Martin Luther’s Treatise ‘Von den guten Werken,’ which states that ‘good works’ (gute Werke) are also to be found in non-Christian believers, yet this is not what sets Christians apart, but only God who works in the believer’s heart. 108 109

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Barth therefore never loses sight of the centre, Jesus Christ, the revelation of God. The existence of these lights will need some further probing here: The question becomes whether these lights have any illuminating power of their own. In a discussion after the publication of the corresponding volume of Church Dogmatics, Barth resolves the question in the following way: You see, to find the presence of such cosmological proofs within the surroundings of nature and history presupposes God’s revelation where he has revealed himself directly, and presupposes then, also man’s place in it. I think of the reflectors on the highways where the cars are going back and forth. These reflectors in themselves are dark, but when cars shine their headlights, then these reflectors shine, also. You see a revelation only in the event of their encounter. There is a relation between God’s actual and unique work in Jesus Christ and such possibilities within the cosmos that may become reflecting lights.113

From this excerpt, it might be delineated that these lights do not have any independent revelatory power, but the issue is not that easy. At a later point, Barth elaborates further: You have to realize that I wrote this section [of Church Dogmatics, i.e. §69] in 1956, in the Mozart Centenary. And I was very close at that point to name Mozart explicitly in this context: he is such a light! However, I was very much on my guard against doing that … Well, in the dogmatic context, I actually did not want to give any names at all, but only wanted to suggest: According to the New Testament, such lights also exist in the world. There are not only exceptional spiritual gifts, but also secular parables of the kingdom of heaven.114

Barth recalls a conversation with Sartre that was such a light for him, and continues: If one notices such a light, one is glad. However, I have to warn against all temptations to set up equations here and to build an ethic on their foundations. Whether one discovers such parables in more conservative or more revolutionary figures … one is never allowed to turn parables (Gleichnisse) into equations (Gleichungen). Instead, what is required is a Christian openness for

Karl Barth, ‘Podiumsdiskussion in Chicago [Englisch],’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp. 452–89 (463–64). The conversation was held in English, for a German translation, see the same volume, pp. 246–47. 114 Barth, ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22/23.10.1967),’ p. 400. 113



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the following: factual and practical, there are also brothers out there. There is no theoretical response in this matter, but always only a practical one.115

Consequently, an obvious tension arises in Barth’s thought regarding the universal and the particular: On the one hand, Barth affirms the universal existence of such lights and parables of the kingdom. On the other hand, Barth warns against assigning universal significance to any of these lights that will always remain particular. The only one revelation that remains of universal significance is the one revelation of God in Jesus Christ. One would have desired some more clarification from Barth in this context. Who can recognize these lights? What is the role of these lights in creation? In absence of a clear application from Barth, I am proposing the following resolution: Theoretically, everyone can recognize these lights; however, their existence as lights will only be acknowledgeable after encountering the one Light of Jesus Christ. The Lichterlehre is not a reformulation of natural theology in Barth’s language. Revelation still means not to grasp, but to be grasped.116 Putting it concisely, Barth argues: ‘Always when man has tried to read the truth from sun, moon and stars or from himself, the result has been an idol. But when God has been known (erkannt) and then known again (wiedererkannt) in the world, so that the result was a joyful praise of God in creation, that is because He is to be sought and found by us in Jesus Christ.’117 The existence of lights is no problem at all if it is seen against the background of God’s sovereignty over creation and God’s freedom. The lights become then an epistemological a posteriori because they exhibit an ontological a priori. This has the following implications. First, the Christian community is in no position to be a judge over these lights. This is a twofold statement: On the one hand, the Christian community cannot be judge over the setting of the light, an idea that will become of crucial importance again in the context of how revelation relates to Christian and non-Christian religion, which we will discuss in greater detail in Chapter 2. On the other hand, the call for the Christian community is constantly to be Ibid., pp. 400–01. GD, p. 196; Unterricht I, p. 242. 117 Dogmatics in Outline, p.  43, rev.; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p.  60. Barth continues in this context: ‘By becoming man in Jesus Christ, the fact that has also become plain and credible that God is the Creator of the world. We have no alternative source of revelation’ (ibid.). 115 116

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the brightest reflection of the light. We are arriving here at one of recurring themes to which we will return at different points in this and the following chapters: Barth is not interested in becoming the judge over the lights, nor does he invite the Christian Church to do so. In fact, quite the opposite is the case. Barth encourages the members of the Christian community to be introspective and to ask themselves: Are we as the Christian Church faithful to our calling, i.e. in this case, of being a light? Different variations on this question will be found in the context of religion in Chapter 2, and in the question of election in Chapter 4, but also most centrally in the concluding Chapter 7. Secondly, we have to return to the question of the characteristics of the lights. Do the lights have independent lighting power? Barth’s use of the reflector image would suggest that this is not the case. However, if one takes God’s sovereignty over creation seriously, one will not be able to deny the potentiality for anything to become a light. It is absolutely crucial here to remember the distinction between lights and media of revelation. The axiom of ‘Media of Revelation’ (pp. 27–31) claimed that God may speak through a dead dog or Russian Communism. There, we concluded that anything could be a medium of revelation. What we encounter in the context of the theory of lights is a variation on the theme developed there, yet it is not the same. The limits of this will become evident with the following example: When taking into account what was said on pages 24–27 on the Barmen Declaration, one could go as far as saying that the rise of the Nazi regime served as a ‘medium of revelation’ for Barth and his fellow drafters of the Barmen Declaration.118 It might possibly be said that God could indeed – in the narrowest sense possible – ‘speak’ through the rise of the Nazi regime. It functions as a medium of revelation insofar as it causes Barth to oppose it and draft the Barmen Declaration to counter the support of the Nazi regime among German Christians. Such a statement would most certainly have to be made most carefully, yet it is an example I am aware of the controversial nature of this example, yet this is very close to what Berkhof says in his examination of Barth’s Lichterlehre when comparing the context of the Barmen Declaration and a similar statement of 93 intellectuals from the year 1914: ‘The battle against the secularised reality is now [in 1934] fought with new, more up-to-date weapons. Barth cannot help but see that God has now lost his last sphere of self-evidence which He seemingly still had in “religion.” The “divine darkness” (Gottesfinsternis) is now even more tangible than it had been before 1914’ (Berkhof, ‘Barths Lichterlehre,’ p. 39). For background information on the declaration of the 93 intellectuals from the year 1914, see e.g. Wilfried Härle, ‘Der Aufruf der 93 Intellektuellen und Karl Barths Bruch mit der liberalen Theologie,’ Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 72:2 (1975), pp. 207–24.

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that touches upon the very boundaries of what this point of view entails. In this stark example, it would clearly be impossible, and even heretical, to say that the Nazi regime had an independent lighting power of its own. The Nazi regime is clearly not a ‘light.’ However, the subsequent drafting of the Barmen Declaration might very well be considered a light that shines in the utter darkness of the rise of the Nazi regime, because it points to the one Light of Jesus Christ: ‘in this theology [of the Barmen Declaration], in the midst of the growing destruction the German Christian Church’s (Christenheit) soul crying out for fresh water – “one probably puts it best: in the form of a cry of need and joy” – was making itself heard.’119 Therefore, one might argue that the rise of the Nazi regime was a medium of revelation leading to the Barmen Declaration without being a light itself. The Barmen Declaration, by contrast, was one of these lights that pointed to the one Light of Jesus Christ.120 The complexity of the relation of the lights and the Light is therefore established. What can be concluded from this section are the following aspects: First, the one revelation of Jesus Christ remains the one of sole importance to Barth. God is both subject and object in revelation and God may use different media to speak of this revelation. Secondly, as this one revelation is of universal significance, the one revelation means that there could possibly be other revelations and lights in the world. These, however, are not at equal level with the one revelation of Jesus Christ; nobody will be able to come to the knowledge of God through one of these lights without having been encountered by the revelation of Jesus Christ. Speaking more broadly, we will also need to clarify the relation of the lights, the one Light and media of revelations. The stark example of the Nazi regime illustrates that anything could be considered a medium of revelation, but the understanding of lights will have to be narrower than the definition of media of revelation. Hart’s earlier criticism121 of the capriciousness is therefore applicable to the lights, which will always stand in a relationship to the one Light of Jesus Christ, yet, as we have shown, is not applicable to the media of revelation. In Chapter 2, we will revisit this distinction in the context of Jüngel, ‘Die Bedeutung der Barmer Theologischen Erklärung,’ p. 82. The internal quote is from KD II/1, p. 198. 120 One can take this further and argue that the Barmen Declaration also functioned as a medium of revelation, and still does so today. 121 See n. 76 above. 119

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religion.122 The following section will conclude this discussion by turning to the question of proclamation with regard to the lights and the Light of Jesus Christ.

Implications of revelation for church proclamation The previous sections in ‘The one revelation of Jesus Christ and other revelations’ have pointed to the boundaries of Barth’s distinction between the one revelation of Jesus Christ and other revelations. In continuation to ‘Approaching the doctrine of revelation’ (pp. 10–23), Barth argues for God being subject and object in revelation; however, his theory of lights and the assertion of different media of revelation allow for other revelations to enter into a relationship with the one Light of Jesus Christ. To conclude our discussion, it seems appropriate to clarify what Barth did not intend to achieve with his theory of lights. For this purpose, this section compares and contrasts Barth’s approach to different revelations with that of his contemporary Paul Tillich. The discussion with Tillich will also provide a helpful bridge to Chapter 2, as it introduces the topic of religion in the context of revelation. Tillich criticized Barth on account of having his doctrine of revelation so strongly rooted in the threefold Word of God (i.e. the Word of God as revealed, written and preached).123 Instead, Tillich allowed for different revelatory bases, most certainly also in different religions. Tillich’s concept of revelation is undoubtedly a complex question, not in the least for reasons of the unusual language used to describe it. In his Systematic Theology, revelation is a ‘mystery,’ always accompanied by ‘ecstasy’ and ‘miracle.’124 In sum, ‘revelation is the manifestation of what concerns us ultimately. The mystery which is revealed is of ultimate concern to us because it is the ground of our being.’125 Tillich moves on to distinguish between the subject of revelation (‘the revealer’) and the medium of revelation. The revealer is the ‘ground of A similar example will be found throughout Chapter 2 in the context of religion. The justification by faith taught in Amida Buddhism can be called a light with independent lighting power. See pp. 74–79. 123 Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology, Volume One (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1951), p.  122, hereafter abbreviated as ST I. 124 See Tillich, ST I, pp. 108–18. 125 ST I, p. 110. 122



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being,’ the answer to what is, to religious questions.126 Considering revelation from the standpoint of religion, Tillich claims: ‘All religion is based on revelatory experiences, even the lowest sacramental ones … at the same time, every religion is a distortion of the revelation on which they are based.’127 For our discussion, there are two aspects of particular relevance: First, we can now revisit the uniqueness of the revelation in Christ, and secondly, and related to this, the different media of revelation. First, Tillich understands the Word of God as symbol, and argues that Barth’s starting point leads to a doctrine, in which ‘“word” must either be identified with revelation and the term “word” must be used with such a wide meaning that every divine self-manifestation can be subsumed under revelation, or revelation must be restricted to the spoken word and the “Word of God” taken literally instead of symbolically.’128 As we have just seen, for Tillich, revelation entails a much broader definition: ‘revelation is the manifestation of what concerns us ultimately.’129 Tillich maintains that experiences of revelation are present in all religions; it is a universal experience that the Christian religion cannot claim exclusively for itself.130 On this statement, Barth turns the tables, as will be seen more closely in Chapter 2. Revelation in Barth is not bound to the Christian religion; however, any “light” will have to be tested in relation to the one Light of Jesus Christ, a point that we have seen above in the question of the theory of lights. We also note that Tillich introduces a ‘dynamic typology,’ a typological undertaking in active tension that ‘drives both to conflicts and beyond the conflicts to possible unions of the polar elements.’131 Tillich’s critique serves here as an illumination of the universal character of the revelation in Jesus Christ, which we pointed to on pages 21–24. Consequently, the emphasis on the unique character of the revelation of Jesus Christ is only properly understood when also considering the all-encompassing quality of this revelation. Paul Tillich, Theology of Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959), p. 12. Ibid., p. 70. 128 Ibid. 129 Ibid., p. 110. One should also note that in Tillich, revelation reveals something, and not someone as in Barth. 130 Paul Tillich, ‘Christian and non-Christian Revelation,’ in Paul Tillich, The Encounter of Religions and Quasi-Religions (ed. Terence Thomas; Toronto Studies in Theology 37; Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1990), pp. 57–72 (72). 131 Tillich, ‘Christianity and the Encounter of the World Religions,’ p. 310. 126 127

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Secondly, regarding the medium of revelation, Tillich says: ‘there is no reality, thing, or event which cannot become a bearer of the mystery of being and enter into a revelatory correlation.’132 In a different context, Tillich argues: ‘media of revelation are those things and happenings in the history of religion which have been considered holy, holy object, holy person, holy book, holy word and so on.’133 Against the background of our examination of Barth’s theory of lights, this points to an interesting implication of Barth’s approach to revelation. On the one hand, Barth affirms the possibility that anything can function as a medium of revelation – we have seen this previously in the case of the dead dog. Barth’s concern in this elaboration is to avoid a human restriction imposed upon God’s freedom should one deny God the possibility to speak through a dead dog. However, on the other hand, Barth’s emphasis on the supremacy of the revelation in Christ keeps him from saying that the knowledge of God can be gained through revelations other than Christ. Tillich takes the step against which Barth warned in the immediate context of the example of the dead dog: He moves on to ‘proclaim’ that God speaks, to stay with our earlier example, through dead dogs.134 Put differently, Tillich starts from the epistemological question of ‘how can God be known?’ whereas Barth begins with the ontological question of ‘where does God make Godself known?’ The comparison between Barth and Tillich serves to illustrate Barth’s unwavering emphasis on the centrality of Jesus Christ. While both Barth and Tillich allow in their individual ways room with regard to the media of revelation, Barth is determined not to move from his subject of revelation in Jesus Christ that is applicable to everyone. For Barth, the subject of the proclamation of the Church can only be Jesus Christ. The result is thereby less one of Tillich losing, Barth winning,135 but more one of different emphasis and using Tillich’s theology to shed further light on a particular aspect of Barth’s Tillich, ST I, p. 118. Tillich, ‘Christian and non-Christian Revelation,’ p. 66. 134 CD I/1, pp. 55–56; KD I/1, p. 56. 135 As argued by Bruce McCormack, ‘Why should Theology be Christocentric? Christology and Metaphysics in Paul Tillich and Karl Barth,’ Wesleyan Theological Journal 45:1 (Spring 2010), pp.  42–80. McCormack offers a comparison in the theological approaches in Barth and Tillich and concludes that Barth’s theology ‘by not attaching itself to any one philosophy or psychological model, has proven to have greater staying power’ (p. 80). For our purpose here, however, Tillich has served to shed further light on the shape of Barth’s doctrine of revelation. 132 133



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theology. The comparison illustrates that the key question Barth asks in his doctrine of revelation is of an ontological nature, rather than an epistemological one.

Conclusion This chapter has served a number of purposes. We have delineated aspects of Barth’s doctrine of revelation insofar as they are important for our topic of developing a theology of religion. For that purpose, we stressed in the first part that Barth emphasizes the unique character of the revelation of Jesus Christ, an event in perfect freedom and sovereignty with universal significance for all of humanity. The second part examined in detail Barth’s complex system of different media of revelation and the difference between revelations in creation and their relationship to the one revelation in Jesus Christ. Throughout this chapter, we have discovered certain pointers to other areas of theology, such as the question of justification, the doctrine of sin or questions of ecclesiology as they are reflected in and find their starting point in the doctrine of revelation. Therefore, by reaching the end of this chapter, we can now turn to other aspects of Barth’s theology and their application for a theology of religion.

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Barth’s Understanding of Revelation and Religion

In this chapter, we turn to the concrete context of religion. What is Barth’s understanding of religion? The task before us is to resolve the question whether Barth has been correctly portrayed in scholarship as a defendant of the Christian religion as the sole bearer of truth.1 For this purpose, this chapter will first give an overview of the interpretation of Barth’s position on the question of religion (pp. 45–53). Secondly, we will turn to an analysis of §17 of Church Dogmatics, which has been misinterpreted particularly in English-speaking scholarship (pp. 53–74). As will be seen, §17 cannot and should not be used as a basis for claims of the exclusive truth of Christianity. In the third section (pp. 74–79), we will revisit the question of revelation in the context of religion and return to Barth’s theory of lights.

Approaching Barth’s understanding of religion The question of religion is at no point of central importance to Barth’s theology. In a representative fashion, one might be reminded of the following quote from the year 1938: ‘Shall I say something about the change in my thinking about religion in the last ten years? Then let me say first of all that my thinking in any event remains at one point the same as ever. It is unchanged in this, that not so-called “religion” is its object, its source, and its criterion,

As a paradigmatic example, see here Paul J. Griffiths, Problems of Religious Diversity (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 2001), pp. 151–53.

  1

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but rather, as far as it can be my intention, the Word of God.’2 While this is an easy statement to make, it remains to be examined what kind of implications this carries for the development of a theology of non-Christian religions. Undeniably, the brief quotation that stays with readers of Barth’s works is usually that Barth refers to religion as ‘unbelief … the one great concern of godless man.’3 It would be a grave mistake, though, to interpret this as an end to the conversation on the development of a theology of religion.

A historical overview Consistent with Chapter 1, let us start by giving a historical background to what follows. In this case when speaking about religion, this will be done more briefly as the task has been fulfilled elsewhere.4 Continuing a tradition that originated in the rise of modernity and which saw one of its climaxes in the nineteenth century, Barth worked in the first two decades of the twentieth century in a context that gave rise to the study of religion, particularly in the German-speaking context. The key question that will underlie the present chapter and to which Barth will return repeatedly is whether human religiosity and religious activities are ‘indeed identical with the subjective possibility of revelation.’5 Any attempt at correct contextualization and application of §17 of Church Dogmatics hinges on this background. Strauss formulated the issue at stake as follows: ‘The Christian religion which is solely determined by the revelation of God in Jesus Christ and which is presented as “true religion” by Barth in the early volumes of his Church Dogmatics does not at all represent Barth, How I Changed My Mind, p. 37. CD I/2, pp. 299–300; KD I/2, p. 327.   4 For the best overview of Barth’s position on ‘religion’ in his early writings, see Hans-Joachim Kraus, Theologische Religionskritik (Neukirchener Beiträge zur Systematischen Theologie 2; NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1982), pp. 4–16. For Barth’s criticism of pietism as part of religiosity in his early writings, see the landmark study by Eberhard Busch, Karl Barth und die Pietisten – Die Pietismuskritik des jungen Karl Barth und ihre Erwiderung (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1978). For overviews in English, see e.g. for Barth’s understanding of religion in his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, Garrett Green, ‘Challenging the Religious Studies Canon: Karl Barth’s Theory of Religion,’ The Journal of Religion 75:4 (October 1995), pp.  473–86, particularly pp.  475–76. See also Glenn A. Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype – The Theology of Karl Barth as a Resource for Inter-religious Encounter in a European Context (Religions and Discourse 48; Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2010), particularly pp. 16–22. Chestnutt relies heavily on the work of previously published (Englishspeaking) studies, yet offers a good overview of some of the key texts.   5 Karl Barth, Die Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf – Erster Band – Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes – Prolegomena zur Christlichen Dogmatik 1927 (GA II.14) (ed. Gerhard Sauer; Zürich: TVZ, 1982), p. 402.   2   3



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a critique of all religions on the same level, but much rather the crisis of all human religiosity.’6 This raises the question to which we will have to return in the concluding section of this chapter: To what extent, if at all, should §17 of Church Dogmatics be used in developing a theology of non-Christian religions? A number of shorter writings by Barth further illustrate the questions at stake here: In many ways the most useful in this regard might be the collection of three lectures delivered in Paris in 1934, entitled ‘Revelation, Church, Theology.’7 While religion plays a subordinate role in these lectures, the three topics could be considered three of the key terms in which Barth will pursue his discussion of ‘religion.’ The lecture on revelation is a condensed outline of the characteristics of what would become Barth’s doctrine of revelation and which we have discussed at length in Chapter 1. The second lecture is of particular interest here as it corrects misunderstandings of the Church, which ‘magnify it by placing too great a trust in man, and they minimize it by trusting God too little.’8 Barth emphasizes here the listening to God as the decisive characteristic of the Church9 – a main idea that plays a significant role in the argument towards ‘true religion’ in Church Dogmatics. The third lecture on ‘theology’ forms the background to the first section of §17 – theology, too, will always have to be done in relation to the revelation of God: ‘The task of theology consists in again and again reminding the people in the Church, both preachers and congregations, that the life and work of the Church are under the authority of the gospel and the law, that God should be heard.’10 The ‘theology’ of §17 of Church Dogmatics will fulfil precisely this purpose in the concrete context of ‘religion.’ Other writings in preparation for the problem that is addressed with §17 of Church Dogmatics include for example the historical overview Barth offers in Hans Strauss, ‘Krisis der Religion oder Kritik der Religionen?!?’ in Eberhard Busch, Jürgen Fangmeier, and Max Geiger (eds), Parrhesia – Karl Barth zum 80. Geburtstag (Zürich: EVZ, 1966), pp. 305–20 (306).   7 In English translation, this text is recorded in Karl Barth, God in Action – Theological Addresses (trans. E. G. Homrighausen and Karl J. Ernst; intro. Josias Friedli; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936), pp.  3–57 (abbreviated in the following as GiA). The German text is available in the chapter, ‘Offenbarung, Kirche, Theologie,’ in Karl Barth, Theologische Fragen und Antworten, Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 158–84 (abbreviated in the following as OKT).   8 GiA, p. 22; OKT, p. 167.   9 See GiA, p. 26; OKT, p. 169.  10 GiA, p. 50; OKT, p. 180.   6

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the lecture, ‘Das Wort in der Theologie von Schleiermacher bis Ritschl’ [The Word in theology from Schleiermacher to Ritschl], from the year 1927.11 Of particular interest in this text is Barth’s critical exposition of the importance of the Word of God in preaching, as well as Christian theology in general within this historical framework. Barth here introduces two main criteria to determine whether theology is dependent on revelation or vice versa: Whether ‘the human being stands in front of the truth of God as a truth which always has to come to him, i.e. as a human being who is confronted with the truth of God again and again each morning as someone not-knowing, and thus as someone who listens … [and secondly,] whether the truth of God really is a reality that approaches the human being who can never gain or secure its knowledge?’12 Barth concludes in this context that the shortcoming of the theology of the early nineteenth century that he examines is precisely the question of grace, ‘the problem of the Word is decided in the question of grace,’13 and Barth will return again to this theme in the context of §17 of Church Dogmatics. Finally, the problem of revelation and religion features also prominently in Barth’s second14 attempt at developing a dogmatic work, Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, from Barth’s time in Münster. Here, Barth turns in §18 to ‘Grace and Religion.’15 The paragraph offers an interesting background to what would become later §17 in Church Dogmatics, with the subsections being ‘“The term religion” (1), “The great mistake (Schleiermacher)” (2), and “God and religion” (3).’ The key question that is already addressed here is the relation of revelation and religion, particularly in light of Friedrich Schleiermacher’s equation of religion and the subjective possibility of revelation.16 Barth develops this thought in much greater detail in Church Dogmatics Karl Barth, ‘Das Wort in der Theologie von Schleiermacher bis Ritschl,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–1930 (GA III.24) (ed. Hermann Schmidt; Zürich: TVZ, 1994), pp. 183–214.  12 Ibid., p. 187.  13 Ibid., p. 214.  14 Contrary to Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype, pp.  20–22, I am referring to the Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf as the ‘second’ dogmatic effort, as the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion [the ‘Göttingen Dogmatics’] is clearly Barth’s first dogmatic effort (following the three distinct dogmatic cycles as outlined e.g. in the introduction to Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf that distinguishes between the Unterricht from Barth’s time in Göttingen, 1924–25, the Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf from his time in Münster in 1926–27, and then finally, the Kirchliche Dogmatik. See introduction in Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, XI).  15 Barth, Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, pp. 396–417.  16 Barth, Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, p. 402.  11



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by examining the relation between revelation and religion, and focuses his criticism on the Modernist position that takes revelation for granted in the context of religion. Let us now turn to Church Dogmatics: The title of §17 reads ‘The Revelation of God as Aufhebung of Religion.’17 Before making any further step of exposition, we need to pause here and capture the correct meaning of the title: First, it now becomes clear why we started in Chapter 1 with Barth’s doctrine of revelation, rather than with his understanding of religion. The subject in the question of the relationship between revelation and religion is revelation – and, by extension, God who is the subject of revelation – and the object in this relationship is religion. §17 is a reaction against the Modernist and Neo-Protestant position that put ‘religion’ centre stage. Barth said about the meaning of the paragraph: ‘When I am talking about religion, I am mostly thinking of Schleiermacher and his consequences.’18 More specifically, Barth sets the historical context of §17 even earlier than the nineteenth century, arguing that this approach was first visible in the work of Salomon van Til and Johann Franz Buddeus. Barth reacts to Neo-Protestant developments that considered religion as a neutral and self-standing concept: religion, the relationship with God which we can and actually do have apart from revelation, is not an unknown but a very well-known quantity both in form and content, and as such it is something which has to be reckoned with, as having a central importance for all theological thinking. It constitutes, in fact, the presupposition, the criterion, the necessary framework for an understanding of revelation.19

Instead, Barth’s agenda with §17 of Church Dogmatics is to divert the focus of theology from the question of religion back to the subject of theology – God: ‘There is an obvious difference between regarding religion as the problem of theology and regarding it as only one problem in theology.’20 Secondly, this also means that nothing that will be said in this chapter should contradict the characteristics of the doctrine of revelation, which we

CD I/2, p. 280; KD I/2, p. 304. We will return to the word Aufhebung below. Karl Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol, Südwestfunk (5.5.1964),’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 131–66 (145).  19 CD I/2, p. 289; KD I/2, p. 315.  20 CD I/2, p. 284; KD I/2, p. 309.  17  18

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emphasized in Chapter 1: God will still be the subject and object of revelation in the context of religion, this act of revelation occurs in perfect freedom of God, and the revelation of God in Jesus Christ has universal significance. Concretely, this means that religion is understood as a vain human attempt to ‘grasp’ God, instead of allowing ‘to be grasped’ by God in the event of revelation. Keeping in mind some of the issues that were already relevant for the discussion in Chapter 1, we will therefore need a certain awareness of the question of human responsibility and action when examining the relationship between religion and revelation. Thirdly, and finally, it has to be kept in mind that §17 is not a self-standing entity in a vacuum. §17 stands within the section of Church Dogmatics entitled ‘The outpouring of the Holy Spirit’ (§§16–18), which is the third section of the second chapter of Church Dogmatics, ‘The Revelation of God.’ §17 is preceded by ‘The Freedom of Man for God’ (§16) and is followed by ‘The Life of the Children of God’ (§18). While §16 deals with the subjective reality and possibility of revelation, §18 is an extended commentary on what it means to be ‘children of God.’21 It is here where the Trinitarian framework of Barth’s theology shines through, as the wider context of §17 deals with the reality of God working through the Holy Spirit in the world. Therefore, the broader context of §17 does not support an argument for the superiority of the Christian religion compared to non-Christian religions.

Translation matters Before embarking on the development of the main argument of this chapter, a short note is necessary on some language issues that pertain to §17 in particular. First, as noted in the previous section, the term Aufhebung from the title provides a severe hurdle in the correct interpretation of the paragraph. It is of crucial importance to clarify Barth’s use of the word in this context. So far, it has been intentional not to use the word used in the English translation of Church Dogmatics to translate Aufhebung. Especially §18 could thus be seen as further evidence of the ‘Church community’ reading of §17, which I will be suggesting in this chapter. More on this will be found throughout the remainder of this project, but particularly in the concluding Chapter 7.

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The English edition of Church Dogmatics uses the term ‘abolition’ in the title of the paragraph to translate the word Aufhebung, and this has greatly contributed to the reception of Barth as an exclusivist. ‘Abolition’ as translation of Aufhebung has rightly been under scrutiny in recent years. John Webster suggests the pairing of ‘abrogation/preservation’ in his introduction to Barth’s thought, yet leaves the term in the actual title untranslated.22 Garrett Green in his new edition of §17 speaks to the translation problem, stating that ‘the most important reason for retranslating §17 of the Church Dogmatics is … an egregious error in the title and leading concept of the section.’23 Green decides on ‘sublimation’ as translation of Aufhebung, reminding his readers that there is both a negative and positive meaning attached to the term. The term itself is probably most closely associated with G. W. F. Hegel’s philosophy of logic, yet, as Green reminds us, Barth, while adopting the term, ‘cannot accept Hegel’s interpretation of religion and Christianity in terms of a dialectical philosophy of history.’24 Here, we need to take one step back to grasp Barth’s understanding of the concept. When introducing the Word of God in its threefold form at the beginning of his doctrine of revelation, Barth speaks in the context of the relation of the revealed Word of God to the written and proclaimed Word of God to the three senses of Aufhebung or aufgehoben:25 In this event of God’s grace, proclamation and the Bible are ‘held’ (aufgehoben) in the three senses of the term: (1) ‘held up on high,’ (aufgehoben) singled out, made visible and familiar, to the degree that the Bible seeks to bear witness to this event and proclamation seeks to repeat this attestation, to the degree that in the Bible and proclamation this event is what is really meant in the human talk; (2) ‘held in place,’ (aufgehoben) relativised, limited, to the degree that this event is also the boundary of what proclamation and the Bible can try to accomplish in and of themselves, the boundary which we obviously cannot think is John B. Webster, Barth (London: Continuum, 2000), p. 64. Karl Barth, On Religion – The Revelation of God as the Sublimation of Religion (trans. and intro. Garrett Green; London: T&T Clark, 2006), p. viii.  24 Green in his introduction to Barth, On Religion, p. 6. Thus, Barth’s use of the term merely asserts that he borrows the term from Hegel. For an overview of Hegel’s use of the word Aufhebung, see e.g. David Gray Carlson, A Commentary to Hegel’s Science of Logic (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), particularly pp. 30–31.  25 The English translation of Church Dogmatics does not capture the cognates Aufhebung (a verbal noun), and aufheben (the verb) or aufgehoben (the perfect participle) in the passage that I am referring to here. For this purpose, the quote here and the remainder of this section give the term every time it occurs in the German.  22  23

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Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions set aside by what men wanted and want to say; and (3) ‘held in store,’ (aufgehoben) preserved, secured, to the degree that this event is the confirmation and ratification, the fulfilment of what proclamation and the Bible achieve in and of themselves, the presence of what is meant in the human word of the Bible and proclamation. Precisely in view of revelation, or on the basis of it, one may thus say of proclamation and the Bible that they are God’s Word, that they continually become God’s Word.26

Transferring this elaboration, revelation as the Aufhebung of religion means therefore the following three27 processes: (1) Revelation will single out religion insofar as it bears witness to the name of Jesus Christ (this will be Barth’s argument particularly in the third section of §17 on the true religion). (2) Revelation will restrain or suspend religion in order to ensure that it is aware that it cannot stand on its own (this will be Barth’s argument particularly in the second section of §17 on religion being unbelief). (3) Revelation will uphold and preserve religion insofar as it is true to the revelation in Jesus Christ (this is slightly different from the first point as this is more an ongoing process, also evident in the third section of §17, but one of the central concerns of Church Dogmatics as a whole).28

All of these three senses of Aufhebung are encountered in the context of §17.29 Secondly, there is a less noticeable problem with the English term ‘Christianity’ and its use to translate Christenheit and Christentum, and to complicate matters even further, the term ‘Christian religion’ and Christliche Religion. Green’s new translation of §17 does not pay attention to this distinction, which is, by contrast,

CD I/1, pp. 117–18; KD I/1, pp. 120–21. As said in the previous paragraph, recent engagement with Barth’s use of the word Aufhebung points to two main meanings, a negative and a positive side (e.g. Green, ‘Challenging the Religious Studies Canon,’ pp. 473–86, as well as his ‘Introduction’ in Barth, On Religion; the same applies to Paul S. Chung, Karl Barth – God’s Word in Action [Cambridge: James Clarke & Co, 2008], pp.  459–60). While this is true – and most certainly an improvement to just understand it as ‘abolition’ – I am suggesting here, in light of Barth’s own approach, an even more nuanced understanding that entails an immediate positive aspect (my point (1)), as well as an ongoing positive impact (my point (3)), together with a more negative understanding (my point (2)).  28 The distinction between the first and third sense could possibly be made most clearly when using the analogy of justification, i.e. the moment of a believer being justified, and the more gradual process of justification. Both of these are part of Barth’s argument in the third section of §17.  29 Against the background of this explanation, the attempts to decide on one English term to translate Aufhebung seem, despite all their undeniable earnestness, futile. For the remainder of this section, I will give the German together with the corresponding English whenever the word occurs.  26  27



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a standard feature of German-speaking Barth scholarship.30 As Annelore Siller argues correctly: ‘He [Barth] distinguishes between “Christendom” and the “Christian religion” on the one hand, and what he calls “Church,” “Community” or “God’s people” on the other hand.’31 This distinction will become of crucial importance below when I argue – particularly when examining section 3 of §17 – against the understanding that Barth defends the absoluteness of the Christian religion. It is my contention that nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, I will be suggesting below that Barth argues for a critical attitude towards religion as such – first and foremost this applies to Christian religion – and his argument in §17 is in fact against the ‘Christian religion’ when it is seen as a human activity (Christentum). Christentum espouses anthropocentrism and would be dismissed by Barth as a wrong turn within the theological framework, simply because it stands in direct contradiction to divine revelation. By contrast, the ‘Christian Church’ (Christenheit), i.e. those who are continuously recalling their dependence as branches on the vine called Jesus Christ can display ‘true religion’ whenever they recall this dependency and are called to extend grace and mercy to all those who do not know the name of Jesus Christ. As it will be argued below, one could even go so far as to say that Christenheit – by listening to the divine revelation – becomes ever more aware of how their Christentum really is unbelief. It is therefore very obvious that using ‘Christianity’ as a translation for both Christentum and Christenheit will do nothing but hinder this crucial distinction.

Analysis of §17 of Church Dogmatics We are now turning to the question of how revelation relates to the sphere of religion. Nothing that can be said in this section will contradict anything that This distinction lies at the heart of Herlyn, Religion oder Gebet. For the distinction in the context of theology, see Wolf Krötke, Der Mensch und die Religion nach Karl Barth (Theologische Studien 125; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1981), particularly pp. 13–16. For an assessment of the practical implications of the critique of religion for the Church, see Michael Weinrich, ‘Die religiöse Verlegenheit der Kirche – Religion und christliches Leben als Problem der Dogmatik bei Karl Barth,’ in Peter Eicher and Michael Weinrich, Der gute Widerspruch – Das unbegriffene Zeugnis von Karl Barth (Düsseldorf: Patmos Verlag, 1986), pp. 76–160.  31 Annelore Siller, Kirche für die Welt – Karl Barths Lehre vom prophetischen Amt Jesu Christi in ihrer Bedeutung für das Verhältnis von Kirche und Welt unter den Bedingungen der Moderne (Zürich: TVZ, 2009), p. 75.  30

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I have concluded with regard to revelation in Chapter 1. As will be seen, the case of religion is to a certain extent just another case of the ‘created’ world – particular, maybe because of its nature, yet at the same time not any different from the world as a whole. Barth turns to the nature of revelation in the context of religion in §17, ‘The Revelation of God as the Aufhebung of Religion.’32 It offers a basis for answering the question where revelation is possible within the religious context and whether revelation discriminates one religion over another. The purpose of the paragraph is thereby not to put the different religions of the world into conversation with one another and then to argue for the exclusive truth of the Christian religion, but rather to react against the Modernist and Neo-Protestant position that put ‘religion’ centre stage. Further to our introductory remarks regarding the importance of the paragraph as a reaction to Neo-Protestantism, Barth also said about the meaning of the paragraph: ‘I don’t know much or nothing at all about Hinduism or Buddhism. I do not know these religions – I have never been there – apart from maybe through my son who lives in Indonesia. I do not want to embarrass myself there with incompetent statements.’33 With regard to the way §17 has been used as the basis for an exclusive claim of Christianity, Barth says that these attempts are: all a bit juvenile. It was not intended in this way. I have said explicitly that great care and mercy is necessary in the theological appreciation of all religion; that all conflict between the religious activities (Religionstümern), including the Christian one, is false; that, once the proclamation of the grace of God towards all religious activities (Religionstümern) appears, this does precisely not result in religious fanaticism or religious propaganda, but in something completely different: grace itself. God’s Word – revelation, in which God reveals and represents Himself and reconciles the human being with God out of and through grace. Then, also the religions, precisely the religion as unbelief and as

Whenever I use the term Aufhebung in the following, I am mindful of the threefold meaning of this term that I just outlined. Just as Webster uses the term Aufhebung in the title of §17 with the concession that it functions as both abrogation and preservation (Webster, Barth, p. 64), or Green urges his readers to add the ‘dialectical pole of negation’ to his term sublimation (Green in Barth, On Religion, p. ix), I put this disclaimer here.  33 Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol,’ p. 145. I will return to Barth’s engagement with these two religions below on pages 67–74.  32



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the concern of the godless human being, is then coming under judgement and brought to an end.34

It should be noted, thus, that one of the standard approaches to Barth’s understanding of Christianity and how it relates to non-Christian religions is explicitly denied as an intended outcome by Barth himself. This chapter will suggest an alternative to this interpretation of Barth as an exclusivist.

‘The problem of religion in theology’ (§17.1) In the first section of §17, Barth addresses the question of the relation of theology and religion. Many interpreters setting out to detect Barth’s theology of religion have given the introductory section to §17 less attention than it deserves.35 Barth introduces here the core of the problem that he addresses in this paragraph, the relation of religion and theology. Building on what we said in Chapter 1, we are reminded of Barth’s understanding of revelation: Revelation is God’s free and deliberate self-manifestation, ‘an event which encounters man [and] this event represents a self-enclosed circle.’36 It does, however, have a human element, which ‘can be grasped historically and psychologically.’37 This is what can be understood as ‘Christian religion.’38 The Christian religion is the ‘human face’ of revelation, a point to which we return in due course. Barth maintains: ‘we would have to deny revelation as such if we Ibid., p. 146. The passage that Barth thinks of here when saying that mercy and patience should be extended to all religions could be CD I/2, p. 297; KD I/2, p. 324. We will see in Chapter 3 that this does not only concern different religions, but indeed other human beings who do not share the Christian faith (see Chapter 3, pp. 96–104).  35 For example, Paul F. Knitter (No Other Name? – A Critical Survey of Christian Attitudes Toward the World Religions [London: SCM Press, 1985], pp.  80–96) does not mention it at all. James L. Fredericks (Faith among Faiths – Christian Theology and Non-Christian Religions, [New York: Paulist Press, 1999]) moves directly to Barth’s theology of revelation (p. 16). DiNoia (‘Religion and the Religions’), who has to be commended for giving §69 its right attention, also moves directly to section 2 of §17. One notable exception is Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen (An Introduction to the Theology of Religions – Biblical, Historical & Contemporary Perspectives [Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2003], pp. 174–80), who at least dedicates one paragraph (178) to this section.  36 CD I/2, p. 280; KD I/2, p. 304.  37 CD I/2, p. 281. KD I/2, p. 305.  38 John G. Flett’s otherwise excellent study of mission as core characteristic of Barth’s theology shows here some gaps. Due to the fact that religion ‘is the popular entrance point for missiologists, and a superficial treatment would potentially encourage a return to the intellectual ruts and binary positions that I am trying to challenge with this work,’ Flett decides not to pursue the area of religion at all. (John G. Flett, The Witness of God – The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of the Christian Community [Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2010], p. 165, n. 4). While I can sympathize with Flett’s concern to leave the topic of ‘religion’ untouched, the fact that it is not pursued further also entails a decision which I would consider a drawback of his approach.  34

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tried to deny that it is also Christianity (Christentum), that it has this human [face] (menschliche Gesicht), that from this standpoint it can be compared with other human things.’39 This means that Barth’s approach to religion should at no point be understood as parallel to that of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his argument for a ‘religionless’ Christianity, where ‘religion is only a garment of Christianity … [and where] we speak of God – without religion.’40 Barth takes a critical stance towards religion, which is, in Bonhoeffer’s words, ‘his really great merit’;41 however, Barth does not pursue an argument for the dismissal of religion: ‘If we are going to know and acknowledge the revelation of God as revelation, then there is this general human element [i.e. the Christian religion] which we cannot avoid or call by any other name.’42 Furthermore, it seems also appropriate to point to the immediate context of §17. This paragraph – as well as the vast majority of the writings examined in this study – is part of Barth’s arguably most important work – Church Dogmatics. The emphasis in this context has to be put on the word Church: ‘Barth has written Church Dogmatics – not a Christian dogmatic, or a Glaubenslehre.’43 Put differently: ‘Barth’s theology is theology for the church, but not church theology. His theology serves the church, precisely by forcing her critically again and again to give testimony to her words and deeds.’44 Ignoring this basic characteristic of Church Dogmatics has contributed to the misinterpretation of Barth’s approach in this paragraph and will be an underlying feature of the examination of §17. Barth continues by arguing that the ‘Christian religion’ is ‘only a particular instance of the universal which is called religion,’45 and in this way, Christianity exhibits special features, peculiar to that articulation of the phenomenon religion, yet it is not unique simply based on the fact of being religion. Green speaks to this tension by arguing that ‘as such, Christianity is surely “peculiar” CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306. For an analysis of the term ‘human face of revelation,’ see Christian Link, ‘Das menschliche Gesicht der Offenbarung – Bemerkungen zum Religionsverständnis Karl Barths,’ Kerygma und Dogma – Zeitschrift für theologische Forschung und kirchliche Lehre 26 (1980), pp. 277–302.  40 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (ed. Eberhard Bethge; London: SCM Press, 1999), p. 280.  41 Ibid., p. 286.  42 CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306.  43 Siller, Kirche für die Welt, p. 77.  44 Weinrich, ‘Die religiöse Verlegenheit der Kirche,’ p. 77, emphasis in original.  45 Ibid.  39



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(eigenartig) but not “unique” (einizigartig).’46 Instead, Barth emphasizes that ‘the elements and problems in the basic outlook of all religions [are] the same as those of Christian doctrine: the world’s beginning and end, the origin and nature of man, moral and religious law, sin and redemption.’47 The fact that God’s revelation also occurs in the religious sphere, together with the existence of different religions raises the question ‘whether theology as theology, whether the church as church, and finally, whether faith as faith are willing to take themselves or rather the basis of themselves seriously, and are capable thereof.’48 It forms the foundation of Barth’s argument in favour of interpreting religion in light of revelation and not vice versa as it had been suggested by proponents of Neo-Protestantism. Building on what we have said about revelation in Chapter 1, the next step is crucial. Barth states explicitly that Jesus Christ is the revelation against which all other revelations have to be tested. Using the language of the theory of lights that we discussed in Chapter 1 (pp. 31–40), the Light of Jesus Christ is the one light of importance – and, by extension, it also shines on the sphere of religion. Taking Barth at his word, one cannot help but conclude that this must mean that there are quite possibly other lights in any religion, a point to which I return below in ‘Revisiting revelation in the context of religion’ (pp. 74–79).49 This statement, although not made explicit, is supported by the fact that the first and second section of §17 is not referring to any particular religion at all. We have to remember: revelation is not open for discussion, it Green, ‘Introduction: Barth as Theorist of Religion,’ in Barth, On Religion, p. 13. This is self-evident as Green suggests that the Christian religion is one religion among others, and not the ‘only’ religion. See also his note 37 at the end of the sentence: ‘The translation in the Church Dogmatics – “singular, perhaps, but not unique” – is misleading since “singular” like “unique,” means one of a kind. It also misses Barth’s confident tone: he says not “perhaps” but “to be sure” (zwar … aber doch nicht)’ (p. 130).  47 CD I/2, p. 282. KD I/2, p. 307. Barth’s affirmation here that the basic elements are the same across religions does not mean that the religions have the same ‘ends,’ an aspect that will become important in the discussion with John Hick in Chapter 6, as well as in the concluding Chapter 7.  48 CD I/2, p. 283, rev.; KD I/2, p. 308, Green’s translation (see Barth, On Religion, p. 36) comes much closer to the original by the repetition of ‘theology as theology … church as church … faith as faith,’ yet misses Barth’s argument for a common basis (Grund) of theology, Church and faith, reflected in the plural reflexive pronoun (sich/ihrer selbst).  49 One might argue here that this is an extension of Bruce McCormack’s argument for a transfoundationalist epistemology in Barth. See Bruce McCormack, ‘Revelation and History in Transfoundationalist Perspective: Karl Barth’s Theological Epistemology in Conversation with a Schleiermacherian Tradition,’ The Journal of Religion 78:1 (January 1998), pp. 18–37. McCormack traces the relationship between history and revelation, and sees revelation as indebted to Christology (p. 33), with particular attention to Barth’s earlier writings. What I am suggesting here is similar, but compares the later theory of lights with the earlier approach to religion.  46

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is ‘God’s sovereign action upon man or it is not revelation.’50 However, this does not completely negate human engagement with revelation – as argued above, religion is the ‘human face of revelation.’ Furthermore, ‘the concept “sovereign” – and in the context of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit we can presuppose this as “self-evident” (although not at all self-evidently) – indicates that God is not at all alone, that therefore, if revelation is to be understood, man must not be overlooked or eliminated.’51 The statement of revelation as Aufhebung of religion is only possible because of the revelation in Jesus Christ: ‘It is because we remember and apply the Christological doctrine of the assumptio carnis that we speak of revelation as the Aufhebung of religion.’52 There are two key issues at hand here – the question of the ‘human face of revelation as well as the doctrine of the assumptio carnis. Let us take a look at the implications of each. As has already been argued, the Christian religion is the human face of revelation. Barth argues: ‘we would have to deny revelation as such if we tried to deny that it is also Christianity (Christentum), that it has this human [face] (menschliche Gesicht), that from this standpoint it can be compared with other human things.’53 There are, thus, a number of points that we have to draw attention to: First, Barth does not pursue an argument for the complete dismissal of religion: ‘If we are going to know and acknowledge the revelation of God as revelation, then there is this general human element [i.e. the Christian religion] which we cannot avoid or call by any other name.’54 Barth never sees a world without religion as attainable or even desirable. Secondly, this serves to underline that religion truly is part of the created world. This point is intimately connected to Barth’s Christology and particularly to the incarnation: Barth argues that the statement of revelation as Aufhebung of religion is only possible because of the revelation in Jesus Christ: ‘It is because we remember and apply the Christological doctrine of the assumptio carnis that we speak of revelation as the Aufhebung of religion.’55 The

CD I/2, p. 295; KD I/2, p. 322. CD I/2, p. 295–96; KD I/2, p. 322. CD I/2, p. 297; KD I/2, p. 324.  53 CD I/2, p. 281, rev.; KD I/2, p. 306. For an analysis of the term ‘human face of revelation,’ see Link, ‘Das menschliche Gesicht,’ pp. 277–302.  54 CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306.  55 CD I/2, p. 297; KD I/2, p. 324.  50  51  52



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analogical reference to the assumptio carnis56 here is intriguing. In the absence of a more precise explanation from Barth in this context, I am suggesting that the analogy reformulates the idea of the human face of revelation, which was just discussed above. The Christian Church is called to point to and reflect the revelation of God in Jesus Christ.57 Yet, even more so, it is a call to the Christian Church and her members to be a new creation ‘in Christ.’ This point has been made very clearly by Christian Link: When God is showing Himself in the area of the non-divine, when God is becoming ‘objective’ (gegenständlich), He is undoubtedly handing Himself over to the representational sphere of the religions, however – and everything hinges on this distinction! – He is not doing so by being completely absorbed in it! What has been revealed through the ‘incarnation of the Word’ is precisely not a horizon of a general, a priori fixed determination of the ‘natura hominis,’ i.e. a role, which Christ in His being as a human being represents, but much rather a fundamentally new possibility to be human, which is outside of any thinkable role and which is in and of itself fundamentally beyond the possibilities how we realize our being human.58

Consequently, this first section of §17 has served the following purposes: It has introduced the question of religion, put the question of religion into the right perspective in relation to revelation, and, therefore, maintained the relationship between God and the human being that we have seen in Chapter 1. Aptly, Barth states at the end of this first section: In His revelation God is present in the world of human religion. But what we have to discern is that this means that God is present. Our basic task is so to order the concepts revelation and religion that the connexion between the two can again be seen as identical with that event between God and man in which God is God, i.e., the Lord and Master of man, who Himself judges and alone Barth does not offer an extended discussion of the precise meaning of this doctrine in this context here. Nonetheless, Barth’s approach can be found at an earlier stage in the same volume of CD in the context of the exposition of the meaning of the hypostatic union of Christ (see CD I/2, pp. 163–71; KD I/2, pp.  178–87). For an earlier explicit discussion of assumptio carnis, see Barth, Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, pp. 347–64.  57 The doctrine of assumptio carnis, originally an essential part of the Christological doctrine extra calvinisticum, would later be considered more critically by Barth as too speculative (compare CD IV/1, pp. 179–83; KD IV/1, pp. 196–99). Nonetheless, I am arguing that the analogy still holds for the Church, as Barth calls the Christian Church in the later volumes of Church Dogmatics to be one of the lights that reflect the Light of Christ – which is the same idea I am suggesting here when interpreting the analogy of the assumptio carnis.  58 Link, ‘Das menschliche Gesicht,’ p. 292.  56

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‘Religion as unbelief ’ (§17.2) Against this background, Barth moves to his second section arguing that ‘religion is unbelief.’ It is essential to remember that Barth has neither dismissed a particular religion up to this point, nor turned to a discussion of any religion in particular. Continuing with this approach, he now asks the question of how a theological interpretation of the religious enterprise should be shaped. Succinctly, Barth summarizes: A theological evaluation of religion and religions must be characterised primarily by the great cautiousness and charity of its assessment and judgements. [It will view and understand and take seriously the human being as the subject of religion not as separate from God, not as a human ‘in-itself,’ but rather as the human being (whether he knows it or not) for whom Jesus Christ was born, died and rose again; the human being who (whether he has heard it or not) is spoken about in the Word of God; the human being who (again, whether he knows it or not), has his Lord in Jesus Christ.]60

With a quote like this, I fail to see how John Hick can come to his assessment of Barth that ‘such sublime bigotry could only be possible for one who had no real interest in or awareness of the wider religious life of mankind.’61 At an earlier stage, Barth puts this thought more generally: Theology ‘will not try to search heaven with a flashlight on earth pointing upwards; much rather, it will seek to see and understand the world in the light of heaven.’62 Religion belongs strictly to this ‘world,’ the sphere of the human being, it is ‘a vital utterance and activity of this man.’63 Indeed, Barth goes as far as refusing to find criteria, ‘which [one] can then use as a gauge to weigh and balance one human thing against another, distinguishing the “higher” religion from the “lower,” the “living” from the CD I/2, p. 297; KD I/2, p. 324. CD I/2, p. 297, rev.; KD I/2, p. 324.  61 John Hick, God Has Many Names [US] (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1982), p.  90. I will return to the pluralist critique again below when engaging with Knitter below, as well as in ‘Revisiting revelation in the context of religion’ (pp. 74–79). For the conversation with pluralism in general, see also Chapter 6.  62 Karl Barth, ‘Das erste Gebot als theologisches Axiom,’ in Theologische Fragen und Antworten, Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 127–43 (139).  63 Ibid.  59  60



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“decomposed,” the “calculable” from the “incalculable”.’64 This is one of the criticisms Barth raised at a later stage regarding Nostra Aetate, the Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions from the Second Vatican Council. In that context, Barth asked: ‘On what grounds does the Declaration (2ff.) continue the distinction, long since outgrown in the study of comparative religion, between the so-called “higher religions” and the primitive religions, when the opposition of the former to the message of the cross is much more obvious and dangerous?’65 The truth of any religion will always depend solely on the ‘grace of revelation’ and ‘through grace the Church lives by grace, and to that extent it is the locus of true religion,’66 but even that ‘does not mean that the Christian religion as such is the fulfilled nature of human religion.’67 It should be noted in this context that Barth denies emphatically that he is judging different religions. Ignoring this leads to an error that Keith Ward commits in his assessment of Barth’s doctrine of revelation when arguing that ‘Barth and Brunner are not merely of no help; they are a positive hindrance. They insist that reason cannot judge revelation, though they themselves judge all revelations and decide that the Christian is alone true.’68 Positively, one needs to support Ward’s assessment that for Barth, human reason is unable to judge revelation, and that he considers the Christian revelation to be true. However, particularly against what has been said in ‘The theory of lights’ (pp. 31–40), when we examined Barth’s theory of lights, it seems problematic to consider Barth as judge of all revelations, and to maintain that ‘they [Barth and Brunner] claim that religion is a work of human arrogance, though they themselves display what seems very like arrogance in claiming to know the only truth, without even studying other claims thoroughly.’69 This would be a step to fundamentally misunderstand Barth’s distinction between religion and revelation, as outlined above.70 In Barth, there is no arrogance with regard CD I/2, p. 298, rev.; KD I/2, p. 324. Karl Barth, Ad Limina Apostolorum – An Appraisal of Vatican II (trans. Keith R. Crim; Edinburgh: The Saint Andrews Press, 1969), p. 36.  66 Ibid.  67 CD I/2, p. 298; KD I/2, p. 325.  68 Keith Ward, Religion and Revelation – A Theology of Revelation in the World’s Religions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), p.  21. Ward pairs Barth and Brunner in this examination; we are in the present context only interested in what Ward has to say about Barth.  69 Ibid.  70 See particularly the argument that religion and revelation are antithetical in CD I/2, pp. 302–03; KD I/2, p. 330.  64  65

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to the truth of the Christian religion – it is a human construct and unbelief just as any religion. However, God’s revelation, which is the only decisive source of judgement, chose to sanctify the Christian religion insofar as it is true to the revelation of God in Jesus Christ. It is therefore not Barth who is assessing revelation and religion – the judgement belongs to God alone, and God in freedom chooses to be revealed in Jesus Christ and elects the Christian religion as the medium insofar as it stays true to the name of Jesus Christ. The reminder is worthwhile at this point again: Barth does not give a carte blanche to Christian religion as a whole – the judgement regarding the truth of the Christian religion belongs to God, and the call for the Christian Church as the visible form of the Christian Community will always have to re-examine herself how far it is true to the revelation in Jesus Christ. At the very outset, Barth also dismisses a form of deism that the eighteenthcentury German author Gotthold Ephraim Lessing suggested. Religious conflict in this approach is overcome by ‘each … striving after his love, which he will, of course, always regard as uncorrupted and unprejudiced.’71 Barth sees this as just another variation of starting the examination of religion from religion itself, rather than revelation. Concurrently, Barth approves of Lessing’s position ‘to the extent that the mutual rivalry between religions is half-hearted and insincere.’72 However, this serves Barth only to illustrate that the real crisis of religion will only come from without rather than within. Barth, thus, turns to the exposition of the argument to examine religion in the light of revelation. The statement with which Barth started the paragraph is now repeated: ‘We begin by stating that religion is unbelief. It is a concern, indeed, we must say that it is the one great concern, of godless man.’73 Immediately, Barth qualifies this statement: ‘this proposition is not in any sense a negative value-judgement. It is not a judgement of religious science or philosophy based upon some prior negative judgement concerned with the nature of religion. It does not affect only other men with

CD I/2, p. 298; KD I/2, p. 325. One still finds this approach in contemporary theology such as in Karl Josef Kuschel, ‘Jud, Christ und Muselmann vereinigt?’ – Lessings ‘Nathan der Weise’ (München: Patmos, 2004).  72 Ibid.  73 CD I/2, pp. 299–300; KD I/2, p. 327.  71



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their religion. Above all it affects ourselves also as adherents of the Christian religion.’74 A fundamental distinction has to be drawn, thus, between divine and human judgement. The statement that religion is unbelief is a divine judgement concerning all religions.75 However, ‘we cannot, as it were, translate the divine judgement that religion is unbelief into human terms, into the form of definite devaluations and negations.’76 A few years before the publication of the first volume of Church Dogmatics, Barth formulated his position as follows: The mission amongst the religions would have to begin with the confession of ‘Christendom’ that it knows what those proclaiming religions do not know: that the human being following the one true God is a poor person who has not discovered God and will never do so, a person who can only wait for God to discover him. In knowledge of this poverty, Christians would have to know themselves as in solidarity with Communists, Fascists and all other religions… Whosoever believes in God’s revelation believes and knows, therefore, that he has to hear and God has to speak, is therefore automatically in fellowship with all humanity: he will recognize in the foreign religion the common need and question of which the other is not aware.77

To repeat it once more: the statement that religion is unbelief is a divine judgement that does not and should not translate into a human judgement, especially not if the divine judgement of religion could be confused with the individual. Contrary to Paul F. Knitter’s assessment that, according to Barth, ‘in no way may theologians or missionaries seek a relationship between Christian revelation and the religions,’78 the awareness of the divine judgement on all religions is the impetus for the human solidarity with all of humanity, crossing the boundaries of different religions. Knitter continues: ‘The relationship between the Christian message and the religions is an “either-or.” The “slightest deviation [from], the slightest concession” to the

CD I/2, p. 300; KD I/2, p. 327. DiNoia is correct in stressing this, but, in my opinion, does not follow the argument through in the sense that there is no link at all between the divine and human judgement. See DiNoia, ‘Religion and the Religions,’ particularly pp. 250–51.  76 CD I/2, p. 300; KD I/2, p. 328.  77 Karl Barth, ‘Fragen an das “Christentum”,’ in Theologische Fragen und Antworten –, Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 93–99.  78 Knitter, No Other Name?, p. 84. The fact that Knitter does also mix revelation and religion in this statement adds further to the faulty approach.  74  75

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religions violates the Gospel. “We have here an exclusive contradiction.”’79 However, on closer reading, the ‘exclusive contradiction’ that Knitter wants to establish here between the ‘Christian message’ and the ‘religions’ proves to be misunderstood: The exclusive contradiction (auschließenden Widerspruch) that Barth has in mind here is that ‘in religion man bolts and bars himself against revelation by providing a substitute, by taking away in advance the very thing which has to be given by God.’80 Therefore, Knitter’s interpretation of Barth seeing the Christian message as contradiction to religions is mistaken. Furthermore, Greggs suggests an approach that brings ‘Barth’s critique of religion to the inter-faith table.’81 Greggs is correct in cautioning that ‘religion is not revelation. Nor is religion God. Religion seeks to be both of these things and fails because it is idolatrous,’82 and so is his conclusion that the critique of religion should start with one’s own religion; however, if one probes into Barth’s argument, one finds Greggs’ approach still lacking. Barth argues that revelation acts as divine impetus for the Aufhebung of religion, which leads to a critical attitude to religion, starting with one’s own. Thus, in this case, the Christian community is called to point away from themselves and to revelation in order to be the human face of that revelation that has reconciled the human being together with his or her religion to God in Jesus Christ, a point to which I return below. As will be seen in Chapter 3, Barth, thus, calls Christians to look beyond the individuals’ religion and see themselves as in solidarity with them and as their neighbours. Two main points support the thesis that religion is unbelief: First, Barth returns to his argument of revelation being a necessary precondition for religion. Without revelation, human beings are unable to recognize God; it is a process of God’s ‘coming to us,’ meeting people in the attempt to know God for themselves as ‘religious’ beings.83 In this sense, religion is an attempt at self-justification. Once more, we are close here to one of the core characteristics of the doctrine of revelation from Chapter 1: God’s revelation occurs Ibid. Knitter’s endnote references here CD I/2, pp. 295–96, p. 303, as well as pp. 280–94. CD I/2, p. 303, rev.; KD I/2, pp. 330–31. The change here entails a change in punctuation with the addition of the colon after ‘exclusive contradiction,’ which might contribute indirectly to Knitter’s mistake.  81 Tom Greggs, ‘Bringing Barth’s Critique of Religion to the Inter-faith Table,’ Journal of Religion 88:1 (2008), pp. 75–94.  82 Ibid., p. 85.  83 See CD I/2, p. 301; KD I/2, p. 329.  79  80



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in perfect freedom – religion is the attempt to take from God what can only be given, grace. Returning to the motif of Aufhebung, Barth establishes the relationship between religion and revelation once more: ‘Revelation does not link up with [the] human religion which is already present and practised. It contradicts it, just as religion previously contradicted revelation. It displaces it (hebt sie auf), just as religion previously displaced (aufhob) revelation; just as faith cannot link up with a mistaken faith, but must contradict and displace (aufheben) it as unbelief, as an act of contradiction.’84 Secondly, religion is the human being’s attempt to make for herself an image of God. It is the endeavour to tame and try to ‘anticipate God, to foist a human product into the place of His Word, to make our own images of the One who is known only where He gives Himself to be known.’85 Barth’s reference to idolatry is remarkable: Religion is just another step in the long history that Barth traces throughout the body of Old and New Testament Scripture.86 It provides the opportunity to introduce the revelation of God in Jesus Christ as the deciding factor: ‘it is the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, and this revelation only, through which this characterisation of religion as idolatry and self-justification and thus its exposure as unbelief is undertaken.’87 Again, we need to pause here and clarify: What is Barth saying? First, it has to be noted that it is the revelation of God that is acting as the qualification of religion as unbelief. Again, we have to remember here the differentiation between divine and human judgement. There is, Barth is clear on this, also a human judgement on religion – ‘an observation which we can more or less clearly verify from the history and phenomenology of every religion that the religious man does not at all face up to his theoretico-practical aims’88 – yet this will not function as proof that religion is unbelief. Despite the realization that religion is in fact unbelief, a true ‘crisis’ of religion will only be possible when encountered by revelation. Barth points to mysticism and atheism, both of which have provided this challenge in part throughout history, yet they will CD I/2, p. 303; KD I/2, p. 331. CD I/2, p. 308; KD I/2, pp. 336–37.  86 See CD I/2, pp. 303–7; KD I/2, pp. 330–35.  87 CD I/2, p. 314, rev.; KD I/2, p. 343. A faulty English translation might have contributed here to a misinterpretation. The English implies that the revelation in Jesus Christ allows us to call religion unbelief – and this goes against the distinction between human and divine judgement that we have stressed above. The ‘subject’ of this exposure of religion as unbelief is the revelation of God – not us.  88 CD I/2, p. 314; KD I/2, p. 343.  84  85

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ultimately be just as unable to challenge religion,89 or, to use Barth’s phrase, to contribute to the Aufhebung of religion: ‘But the Aufhebung which is a genuine and dangerous attack on religion is to be found in another book, beside which the books of mysticism and atheism can only be described as completely harmless.’90 This is the revelation of Jesus Christ, in whom ‘God has reconciled to Himself godless man [together with his] religion.’91 This leads to the second point in this context: It is the revelation of God in Jesus Christ that Barth sees as the sole driving force behind the proof of religion being unbelief. Importantly, Barth puts the emphasis here on revelation rather than Jesus Christ.92 Here, we can now return to Chapter 1 and apply this in the context of religion: God remains sovereign in the act of revelation, yet there exists a vast array of means of revelation (cf. the dead dog), and the lights that point to the one revelation in Jesus Christ. We will return to the question of Barth’s theory of lights in the context of religion again in ‘Revisiting revelation in the context of religion’ (pp. 74–79). Consequently, this is what can be taken away from the analysis so far: God’s revelation serves as Aufhebung of religion as such by proving that religion is indeed unbelief. It is a divine judgement of religion that does not – indeed, must not – carry with it a corresponding human judgement to the same extent. One can further delineate from this discussion that Barth’s doctrine of revelation emphatically stresses the divine initiative of this revelation; without God, there would not be a revelatory event. In the broader context of how Christianity should relate to other religions, Christopher Sinkinson has argued that a parallel outside influence is missing in defendants of religious pluralism such as Hick: ‘there is no specific, divine activity that he [Hick] refers to. Revelation is a constant possibility depending not on divine grace, but only on inner experience.’93 This is not what Barth is saying here. His doctrine of revelation, the emphasis on God being subject and object of CD I/2, pp. 315–25. KD I/2, pp. 343–56. CD I/2, p. 325; KD I/2, p. 356. This ‘book’ (Buch) is the revelation of God, which, as suggested by the title of the paragraph, functions as this sublimation.  91 CD I/2, p. 299, rev.; KD I/2, p. 326.  92 This is not done in CD I/2, p. 314, but follows the emphasis according to KD I/2, p. 343, as quoted above.  93 Christopher Sinkinson, The Universe of Faiths – A Critical Study of John Hick’s Religious Pluralism (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2001), p.  145. We are reminded here as well of Paul Tillich’s understanding of revelation (see pp. 40–43). I develop this argument further in conversation with Hick and the pluralist paradigm in Chapter 6, particularly pp. 191–96, 196–200.  89  90



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revelation emphatically stresses the divine initiative. One might argue that this constitutes an early version of Barth’s theory of lights, centred on the one Light of Jesus Christ.94 Seamlessly, Barth now turns to the question of how and to what extent Christianity can be called ‘the true religion.’95

‘The true religion’ (§17.3) Barth introduces the sole criterion of relevance, which he had mentioned in the previous section only in passing: ‘we can speak of “true” religion only in the sense in which we speak of a “justified sinner.”’96 This requires some immediate explanations: First, the revelation of God works in this particular context in a positive way in the Aufhebung of religion: ‘Religion can … be (wohl aufgehoben) in revelation, even though the judgement [of religion being unbelief] still stands. It [religion] can be upheld by it [revelation] and concealed in it [revelation]. It [religion] can be justified by it [revelation], and – we must at once add – sanctified. Revelation can adopt religion and mark it off as true religion.’97 I am suggesting that Barth speaks of Aufhebung in the third sense; revelation can be ‘held secure’ in revelation, as this is more of an ongoing process rather than a one-time move. The faith of the Christian believer, the acknowledgement and repentance of sin is thereby only a symptom of the truth of the Christian religion: It is not in and of itself proof of what sets it apart.98 Secondly, the verification that the Christian religion can be seen differently will have to be undertaken from without rather than from within: This is supported by Eberhard Jüngel’s assessment of the theory of lights as ‘a positive extension of his old critique of religion and not a retraction of it’ (Jüngel, Karl Barth – A Theological Legacy, p. 50).  95 CD I/2, p. 325, rev.; KD I/2, p. 356. The addition of the definite article is debatable in this context as the German use of the definite article covers both the reasons in favour and against it. Reasons in favour of doing so are mainly because the German original has the definite article with the noun as title of the subsection 3 (‘Die Wahre Religion’). The distinction is important because it shifts the emphasis of the argument from finding ‘true religion’ (which is only the first step in Barth’s argument) to proving how, in a qualified sense, Christianity can be called the true religion (which is Barth’s second step). This change has been taken up by the revised and updated translation of §17 by Green (see Barth, On Religion, p. 85). However, the argument can be made that adding the definite article might be mistaken as giving the Christian religion a blank cheque, and this, as it has been argued above, and will be stressed again in this section, is not Barth’s intention.  96 Ibid.  97 CD I/2, p. 326, rev.; KD I/2, p. 357. The German goes back to the initial concept of Aufhebung here, but stresses the adverb wohl; the meaning will be ‘Religion can be … well kept in revelation.’ Green’s translation here does not capture this well (‘Religion can be … happily sublimated in revelation,’ Barth, On Religion, p. 85).  98 See CD I/2, p. 338; KD I/2, p. 370.  94

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‘The proposition that the Christian religion is the true religion, if it is to be a substantive proposition, may be ventured only in listening to God’s revelation.’99 Crucially, Barth says about the declaration that the Christian religion is the true religion: ‘A proposition of faith (Glaubenssatz), however, must be a proposition conceived and uttered in faith and from faith, but that means in acknowledgement of and with regard to that which is said to us through divine revelation.’100 Therefore, the judgement that Christianity is unbelief still applies. Christianity does not fare any better than any other religion. Indeed, ‘it is our business as Christians to apply this judgement first and most acutely to ourselves: and to others, the non-Christians, only in so far as we recognise ourselves in them, i.e. only as we see in them the truth of this judgement of revelation which concerns us, in the solidarity, therefore, in which, anticipating them in both repentance and hope, we accept this judgement to participate in the promise of revelation.’101 The negative aspects of religion as a human endeavour, which we outlined in the preceding section, are thus still just as visible in the case of Christianity. Thirdly, we have to stress that, according to Barth, ‘no religion is true. It can only become true, i.e., according to that which it purports to be and for which it [wants to be taken].’102 Considering that the same paragraph ends on ‘we need have no hesitation in saying that the Christian religion is the true religion,’103 what does this mean? While Hart stresses that patience should be extended to all religions, he also states that ‘Barth has no qualms about referring to Christianity as the only “true” religion.’104 Just as Green’s equation of ‘“The True Religion,” namely the Christian religion,’105 Hart’s statement seems overly hasty, as it ignores the dialectical negation of this statement Barth, On Religion, p.  86. See CD I/2, p.  326; KD I/2, p.  357. Green’s translation is here to be preferred because he does not turn to the personal pronoun ‘we.’ The English edition of CD states: ‘If the statement is to have any content, we can dare to state that the Christian religion is the true one only as we listen to the divine revelation’ (my emphasis). 100 Barth, On Religion, p.  86. See CD I/2, p.  326; KD I/2, p.  357. Again, Green’s translation is to be preferred for the same reason as in the previous sentence. The English edition of CD states: ‘a statement which we dare to make as we listen to the divine revelation can only be a statement of faith. And a statement of faith is necessarily a statement which is thought and expressed in faith and from faith, i.e., in recognition and respect of what we are told by revelation’ (my emphasis). 101 CD I/2, p. 327; KD I/2, p. 358. 102 CD I/2, p. 325, rev.; KD I/2, p. 356. 103 CD I/2, p. 326; KD I/2, p. 357. 104 Trevor Hart, ‘Truth, the Trinity and Pluralism,’ in Trevor Hart, Regarding Karl Barth – Essays Toward a Reading of his Theology (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1999), pp. 117–38 (134). 105 Green in Barth, On Religion, p. ix, emphasis in original.  99



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that no religion in and of itself ‘is true.’ Neither Hart nor Green make it clear that Barth only makes the statement that the Christian religion is true in a qualified manner. Put differently, the declaration regarding the truth of the Christian religion is only to be made by following the analogy of the justified sinner. The key here is to understand that ‘true religion’ is, just like justified sinners, a creature of grace (Geschöpf der Gnade), i.e. we are now dealing with the concrete application of a theological perspective on religion from the first section of §17. What are the implications of this qualified statement of faith (Glaubenssatz) that Christianity can display true religion? The question now becomes how other religions should be understood and interpreted, and how this relates to Barth’s doctrine of revelation. Barth first turns to the complex process of relativism and its impacts upon Christianity. The criterion of relativism comes for Barth from within, rather than from without: The presence of other religions, all of them as human constructs with their rites and visible acts of worship, are to be considered as ‘unbelief,’ and are to be seen on the same level as Christianity in that regard; this existence does not relativize them.106 Instead, it is God’s revelation that sets Christianity apart from the other religions, and forms and shapes the Christian self-understanding. We have to remember again – this is divine judgement through revelation without a corresponding human judgement. By this, revelation ensures that the Christian religion as religion is protected from the assumption that it can stand on its own.107 In an intriguing survey of history, Barth points to three stages in history in which the Christian religion lost its faithfulness to the divine revelation and clouded its demonstration of ‘true religion’ – in antiquity, in the time of Constantine, and in modernity.108 It is in this context that the second sense of Aufhebung becomes most evident, i.e. religion is dependent upon revelation, not vice versa. Furthermore, it becomes also apparent that the assessment of any religion needs to be understood against the background of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ: ‘The religion of revelation is indeed bound up with the revelation of God: but the revelation

See CD I/2, pp. 327–31; KD I/2, pp. 358–62. See CD I/2, pp. 331–38; KD I/2, pp. 362–71. See CD I/2, pp. 333–37; KD I/2, pp. 365–69.

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of God is not bound up with the religion of revelation.’109 Put differently, the revelation of Jesus Christ is the Light that shines in the sphere of human religion and nothing that can be said about religion can be separated from this light. True religion is aware of this light of grace: ‘In this knowledge of grace, in the knowledge that it is the justification of the ungodly, that it is grace [also and precisely] for the enemies of grace, the Christian faith attains to its knowledge of the truth of the Christian religion.’110 We are here close to the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ that we stressed in Chapter 1 (pp. 21–24), yet also through the coordination of the terms Christian faith and Christian religion at a point which will become important in our discussion below. Secondly, Barth turns to concrete examples of why symptoms of truth (Symptome) are not verifiers of truth, i.e. why aspects of religion such as repentance or justification by faith are not enough in themselves to make a religion true. The argument pursued in this context is to show that no religion can make exclusive truth claims from within about itself, a reminder of the introductory statement that religion never is true, but can only become true.111 He discusses, among other examples, Amida Buddhism, a form of Buddhism that also exemplifies a doctrine of grace and justified sinners, both of which can be considered as symptoms of truth.112 Concretely, this means the following: Barth acknowledges in the example of Amida Buddhism the concept of justification by faith that it teaches. For our context, it is important to emphasize that Barth recognizes this astonishing parallel and invites his Christian readers to admit this doctrinal similarity. However, this is only illustrative of the fact that the Christian religion cannot be the religion to which ‘belongs the truth per se.’113 Amida Buddhism, or even more precisely, the teaching of justification by faith in Amida Buddhism, is just one of the lights that are reciprocally pointing to Jesus Christ,114 and for the Christian community, this parallel CD I/2, p. 329; KD I/2, p. 360. Barth here refers to the religion of Israel in an exemplary fashion. CD I/2, p. 338, rev.; KD I/2, p. 370. 111 See CD I/2, p. 325; KD I/2, p. 356. 112 Barth also discusses in this context Bhakti Hinduism, yet in less detail. 113 CD I/2, p. 342; KD I/2, p. 375. 114 For further engagement with the parallels in Amida Buddhism, see Gempo Hoshino, ‘Das Verhältnis des buddhistischen Denkens zu Karl Barth,’ in Antwort: Karl Barth zum siebzigsten Geburtstag (Zürich: EVZ, 1956), pp. 423–34. Hoshino argues that the reason why Barth’s doctrinal thought has been received warmly in Japan is due to the fact that his work is truly theological and centred on God. Of course, he acknowledges that there are differences, yet he comes to the 109 110



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is to be accepted: ‘Our knowledge, and the life and churchmanship which correspond to it so badly, genuinely distinguish us from the heathen only to the extent they are at any rate symptoms of the grace and truth which is only Jesus Christ Himself and therefore the name of Jesus Christ for us.’115 We will examine this point below when re-applying Barth’s theory of lights (Lichterlehre) from pages 31–40. Barth dismisses these parallels by arguing that ‘in its historical form, as a mode of doctrine, life and order, the Christian religion cannot be the one to which the truth belongs per se.’116 Yes, truth can be found in this concept of grace; however, ‘the Christian-Protestant religion of grace is not the true religion because it is a religion of grace.’117 The one ultimately decisive factor can only come from without; for Barth, this factor is the revelation of God in Jesus Christ.118 There is nothing that the human side can add to its own existence of being truth, ‘in the relationship between the name of Jesus Christ and the Christian religion we have to do with an act of the divine election. The Christian religion did not possess any reality of its own. Considered in and for itself it never can. It is a mere possibility among a host of others.’119 Just as the sun shines on one part of the earth during daytime and leaves the other part in the darkness of night, so the Light of Christ shines on Christianity as true religion insofar as it is true to its calling to listen to God’s revelation. This Light is one of grace, but also of judgement. It is a process that has been decided once and for all, yet will need to be proclaimed and asserted continuously. Barth concludes: ‘The name of Jesus Christ justifies the Christian religion, without conclusion: ‘To learn from Barth means: to live like Barth. For in him, living and thinking are inseparably linked together. When Buddhism lives and thinks like Barth, it will be granted to come to new life again and will be able to meet the challenge of our times’ (p. 434). See also Chapter 7 for a discussion of the comparative theology of Francis Clooney, which will discuss this kind of dialogical engagement further. 115 CD I/2, p. 343; KD I/2, p. 376. The full context of this quote is: ‘… the heathen, too, can in their own way teach and even live and represent as a church. Yet, that does not mean that they are any the less heathen, poor, and utterly lost. Our knowledge, and the life and churchmanship which correspond to it so badly, genuinely distinguish us from the heathen only to the extent they are at any rate symptoms of the grace and truth which is only Jesus Christ Himself and therefore the name of Jesus Christ for us – only to the extent that they are absolutely conditioned by this One and no other, and therefore tied to this name, their goal and content determined and fixed by it, strengthened and preserved by it.’ 116 CD I/2, p. 342; KD I/2, p. 375. 117 CD I/2, p. 343; KD I/2, p. 376. 118 ‘It is actually enclosed in all the formal simplicity of this name as the very heart of the divine reality of revelation, which alone constitutes the truth of our religion’ (ibid.). 119 CD I/2, p. 348. KD I/2, p. 382. See Chapter 4 for the dimensions of election.

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it being able to make even the slightest contribution to its justification as a human religion … It is perfectly true that Christians are sinners and that the Church is a Church of sinners. But if they are justified sinners – as Christians are – then in virtue of the same Word and Spirit which justifies them, they are also sanctified sinners.’120 The name of Jesus Christ, and only this, is what makes Christianity the true religion, but only insofar as it stays close to this name. The Christian religion is only true insofar as it continuously reminds itself of this basis: ‘In this knowledge of grace, in the knowledge that it is the justification of the ungodly, that it is grace [also and exactly] for the enemies of grace, the Christian faith attains to its knowledge of the truth of the Christian religion.’121 Some implications of this paragraph seem now unavoidable. These do primarily concern the Christian religion, rather than ‘other’ religions. First, the Christian religion is only ‘the true religion’ insofar as it is in obedience to the revelation of Jesus Christ. As has been argued above, Barth is not writing a blank cheque to ‘Christian religion’; instead his argument for true religion is primarily self-critical and encouraging the Christian community to look at the revelation of Jesus Christ at all times to examine whether they are still faithful to this revelation. The ramifications of this statement are obvious: When speaking about ‘true religion,’ Barth is concerned with the Church (Christenheit) rather than Christian religion (Christentum). Illustrative in this context is for example the reminder within the section on Christianity as true religion that not the whole of Christianity is named the true religion. Drawing on Jesus’ discourse on the vine and the branches in the Gospel of John 15, Barth clarifies: ‘that “in the vine” must not be overlooked, the reminder “without me ye can do nothing” must not be suppressed, when in their [the Apostles in the Book of Acts] person Christianity confronts the false religions of the Jews and the heathen as the religion which is unequivocally true. However, it is not their person, but their office which is characterised in CD I/2, p. 360; KD I/2, p. 396. CD I/2, p. 338; KD I/2, p. 370. In continuation, Barth points here to Jacob’s struggle with God at Peniel in Gen. 32 as illustration that the Christian religion also has to become such a place: ‘The place where there is knowledge of the truth of the Christian religion will have to be such a Peniel, and it can be such a Peniel only where a man stands wholly and utterly against God, and in this resistance against God he is marked by God, and therefore cannot make any other request than: “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me,” and in this very prayer of his he is heard and blessed, and in this very blessing he sees the face of God and in it he knows the truth’ (CD I/2, p. 339; KD I/2, p. 371).

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this way.’122 It becomes apparent that the Christian religion is only true insofar as it constantly reminds itself of Jesus Christ, or, in the imagery of John 15, that those professing the Christian faith are branches that have to remain in the vine. Secondly, the Christian religion is the true religion at no point in history in a static sense. To clarify: At the beginning of the section on true religion, Barth states: ‘No religion is true. It can only become true, i.e., according to that which it purports to be and for which it is [wants to be taken]. And it can become true only in the way in which man is justified, from without; i.e., not of its own nature and being, but only in virtue of a reckoning and adopting and separating which are foreign to its own nature and being, which are quite inconceivable from its own standpoint, which come to it quite apart from any qualifications or merits.’123 We are here dealing with a dynamic understanding of revelation and religion and are speaking most clearly to the third sense of Aufhebung. It is evident that Barth here has the ongoing commitment and continuous renewal of the Church community in mind. In the analysis of the characteristics of ‘true religion,’ this is probably most clearly reflected in the analysis of the ongoing ‘sanctification’ of the Christian religion. Barth argues: ‘Both in general and in particular, Christianity (christliche Religion) as an historical form is readiness for the Lord, by whose name those who profess this religion, and [by way of their professing] the religion itself, are created and elected and justified.’124The continuous recalling of the divine revelation therefore makes human participation in the Christian faith absolutely essential: That is why the problems of the nature and form of this religion are serious problems: the question of canon and dogma, the question of creed, cultus and Church order, the question of correct theology and piety and ethics. They are not serious problems in the sense that to win through to certain answers would enable Christianity (christliche Religion) to justify itself as the true religion. But they are serious problems in the sense that by the answers made to them it is decided whether Christianity (christliche Religion) is here and now ready for the Lord who justified it long ago, whether it really is justified and therefore the true

CD I/2, p. 330, rev.; KD I/2, p. 362. CD I/2, pp. 325–26, rev.; KD I/2, p. 356. CD I/2, p. 360, rev.; KD I/2, p. 396.

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Therefore, this is Barth’s very final step in the analysis of the truth of the Christian religion. It is not a question of ‘acquiring and maintaining an advantage when Christians and Christianity (Christenheit) seek the truth concerning the visible nature and form of their religion, suffer and fight for the truth when it is known’126 – this has been the argument all throughout the chapter that Barth’s view has nothing to do with arrogance towards other religions, but is a call to faithful self-examination. Aptly, Barth finishes with a call to faith to the Christian community: It all amounts to this, that as they have to keep on breathing for animal life, so they have continually to struggle for their existence as Christians and Christianity (Christenheit), to be those who already have the advantage of knowing the name of Jesus Christ, and of being named after Him … But the sanctification, to which they are subject in this exercise and repetition, is quite beyond their own striving and its successes and failures. No less than their justification, it is the work of Him for whose sake they are called Christians and Christianity (Christenheit).127

Against this background, Barth moves in §18 to what it means to be ‘children of God.’

Revisiting revelation in the context of religion In Chapter 1, I argued for the following interpretation of Barth’s doctrine of revelation: God, in the event of revealing Godself in the person of Jesus Christ, acts in perfect freedom and sovereignty. However, we also saw that, within the sovereignty of this act, there is a wide range of media of revelation through which God can speak, as well as pointers to the one revelation of Jesus Christ. We can now return to this point in the concrete context of religion. As a starting point, let us return to one of the key quotes from the examination of the Lichterlehre (pp. 31–40): ‘the fact that Jesus Christ is the one CD I/2, pp. 360–61; KD I/2, p. 396. CD I/2, p. 361; KD I/2, pp. 396–97. CD I/2, p. 361; KD I/2, p. 397.

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Word of God does not mean that in the Bible, the Church and the world there are not other words which are quite notable in their way, other lights which are quite clear and other revelations (Offenbarungen) which are quite real.’128 This was written in the context of Barth’s doctrine of reconciliation, and, more specifically, within the examination of the prophetic office of Jesus Christ. In line with the argument of Jesus Christ being the one revelation of God of importance, Barth defines Jesus as ‘the “light of life,” of the light which life itself radiates because it is itself light. As Jesus Christ lives, He also shines out, not with an alien light that falls upon Him from without and illuminates Him, but with His own light proceeding from Himself. He lives as the source of light whose shining gives light without.’129 What does this mean against the background of religion? In order to answer this question, I will be using three key terms from the first statement: Other words (Worte), other lights (Lichter), and other revelations (Offenbarungen). First, let us turn to words.130 Barth affirms that there are other ‘true words’ that have to be heard within the worldly sphere. ‘There are no good grounds,’ Barth states, ‘not to accept the fact that such good words may also be spoken extra muros ecclesiae either through those who have not yet received any effective witness to Jesus Christ, and cannot therefore be reckoned with the believers who for their part attest Him, or through more or less admitted Christians who are not, however, engaged in direct confession, or direct activity as members of the Christian community, but in the discharge of a function in world society and its orders and tasks.’131 Therefore, while it might come as a surprise to have true words spoken in these kinds of spheres, Barth nonetheless affirms their existence, and they should be listened to. Certainly, Barth always returns to the ‘Word of God’ in its threefold form – revealed, written, proclaimed – that is to be taken here as the measurement. Clearly, these words are not truth to the same extent ‘as these different human words they cannot and will not and must not say anything [different] on their part but the one Word of God, and that it must be by this one Word of God CD IV/3.1, p. 97; KD IV/3.1, p. 107. CD IV/3.1, p. 46; KD IV/3.1, p. 49. 130 For the following, see the discussion by Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth, particularly pp. 247–71. Hunsinger’s emphasis is, however, not to speak specifically to the question of Christian/ non-Christian religion that we are addressing here, but the dialogue with culture. 131 CD IV/3.1, p. 110; KD IV/3.1, pp. 122–23. 128 129

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that they are impelled, ordained and fashioned for this function of bearing testimony to it.’132 We are advised here to remember the distinction between media of revelation and lights that we stressed in Chapter 1,133 and even the most abstract medium of revelation could thus be containing a ‘true word.’ Just as Barth did not attempt to judge different religions in §17, Barth warns here against dismissing any words because of the context in which they are received: ‘what is seen and heard must be tested. This is a duty which is not to be evaded. In this sphere, too, we have to reckon with human pride, sloth and falsehood, with an optimism and pessimism which are terribly far from the truth, with unconscious blindness and only too conscious hypocrisy. But these are encountered intra muros as well. In neither case should we be too summary in our judgements.’134 These words, therefore, should never be judged because of the context on which they are received – the revelation of God in Jesus Christ will be determinative in this context. Secondly, this leads to the related issue of the lights. In the illustration above I already referred to the justification by faith of Amida Buddhism as one of the lights in the concrete context of religion. We have to remember that Barth argued in that context that this – like any – symptom of the truth is not a verifier of the truth of religion. How can the justification by faith in Amida Buddhism then be understood as a light? A number of aspects will contribute to an answer to this question. First, we have to remember that there is an inherent link between lights in the world and the one Light of Jesus Christ. Barth, when asked about the nature of the lights, states: ‘Whether one discovers such parables in more conservative or more revolutionary figures … one is never allowed to turn parables (Gleichnisse) into equations (Gleichungen). Instead, what is required is a Christian openness for the following: factual and practical, there are also brothers out there. There is no theoretical response in this matter, but always only a practical one.’135 This means that an approach that affirms truth in an unfamiliar source will have to be accepted for the truth (practical response), yet cannot be turned into source of truth (theoretical response).136 CD IV/3.1, p. 112, rev.; KD IV/3.1, p. 124. See particularly ‘Media of revelation’ (pp. 27–31) and ‘The theory of lights’ (pp. 31–40). 134 CD IV/3.1, p. 125; CD IV/3.1, pp. 140–41. 135 Barth, ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22./23.10.1967),’ pp. 400–01. 136 See Chapter 1, pp. 24–27, and 40–43 and Barth’s warning there against becoming prophets of media of revelation. 132 133



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This seems to be the danger of Glenn A. Chestnutt’s suggestion that encourages the Christian Church to engage with the work of Tariq Ramadan as it ‘speaks to the Church about its own life and purpose by emerging as a “secular” word of the Kingdom of God.’137 It is certainly not to be denied that there is truth to be found in Ramadan’s work – any other claim would be a denial of God’s freedom. This is particularly true if one examines the work of Ramadan under terms such as ‘gender equality,’138 ‘social and economic justice,’139 or ‘the war against terrorism.’140 Nonetheless, Barth’s warning should be heard here as well: It remains a ‘parable’ (Gleichnis) and should not be turned into an ‘equation’ (Gleichung). Thirdly, and finally, let us examine the concept of different revelations. The term itself incorporates to some extent both the words and lights from the previous two points while not being exactly the same. In order to conclude this section, a discussion of how this might be interpreted as Barth somehow allowing religious pluralism through the back door seems necessary. It is important in this context to remember that the key sentence that links this passage to earlier volumes of Church Dogmatics is the first article of the Barmen Declaration that rejected any revelation of God outside the one Word of God.141 Nonetheless, Paul S. Chung has recently taken this, among other factors, as evidence for a possible softening of Barth’s Christocentrism of his earlier work: ‘Barth’s position implies an inclusive-universalist tone with a radical openness to forms of secularism or pluralistic truth claims, even in spite of their sinful origin.’142 Is Chung’s reading of Barth convincing? While Chung is correct in defending Barth against the pluralist criticism of bigotry and intolerance, I am more interested here in the development of the process. Chung develops his argument that ‘Barth’s theology presents within itself a structure of radical openness toward the world. This aspect has been overlooked and thus his christocentrism has been unilaterally misunderstood as an antireligious and anti-cultural stronghold.’143 The openness to other Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype, p. 249. Ibid., pp. 216–17. 139 Ibid., pp. 217–24. 140 Ibid., pp. 224–27. 141 For this, see Chapter 1, pp. 24–27. 142 Paul S. Chung, ‘Karl Barth’s Theology of Reconciliation in Dialogue with a Theology of Religions,’ Mission Studies 25 (2008), pp. 211–28 (215). 143 Chung, ‘Karl Barth’s Theology of Reconciliation,’ p. 213. 137 138

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lights and words outside the Christian realm is therefore to be contrasted with the focus on Jesus Christ from §17 which is, according to Chung, a result from the fact that ‘[in CD I/2], K. Barth was confronted with Nazi Germany and exponents of its nature theology. What is of special significance to him at this period is not the Christianity as a form of religion, but the revelation, which means the name of Jesus Christ, Urfaktum Immanuel.’144 Yet, that argument seems to give too much credit to a theology developed against the immediate context. Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen is critical of Chung’s method; however, his criticism takes the wrong approach, arguing that ‘it is important to note that not only in later parts, but already in the first, programmatic volume of the Church Dogmatics … Barth acknowledges that God can speak to us in surprising ways, be it through Russian communism.’145 The problem here is that Kärkkäinen equates the media of revelation with the lights. Following my discussion of these different elements in Chapter 1 (pp. 31–40), this step is not correct, as there is an inherent link between lights and the Light of Christ, whereas this does not have to occur in the case of the media of revelation. Chung’s mistake, by contrast, is to assume that the theory of lights somehow supersedes the Christological argument of §17 and earlier volumes of Church Dogmatics. But this seems incorrect on two accounts: On the one hand, even in §17, Barth already argues for great mercy and patience to be extended towards all religious communities, implying precisely the worldopen theology that Chung only sees arising with the theory of lights in §69.146 On the other hand, the Christocentrism in §69 is in fact maintained, precisely through the return to the first article of the Barmen Declaration.147 We can conclude, thus, that there is nothing fundamentally different in the context of §69 about religion that adds or changes what has been said about religion in §17. Barth repeats his focus on the revelation of Jesus Christ, yet, as for the question of how the Christian community relates to non-Christian Paul S. Chung, ‘Karl Barth and Inter-religious Dialogue – An Attempt to Bring Karl Barth to Dialogue with Religious Pluralism,’ Asia Journal of Theology 15:2 (2001), pp. 232–46 (240). The term ‘Urfaktum Immanuel’ here is borrowed from Katsumi Takizawa. 145 Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, ‘Karl Barth and the Theology of Religions,’ in Sung Wook Chung (ed.), Karl Barth and Evangelical Theology – Convergences and Divergences (Milton Keynes: Paternoster Press, 2006), pp. 236–57 (250). 146 See Chung, Karl Barth – God’s Word in Action, pp. 480–83. 147 For the explicit reference to the first article of the Barmen Declaration in this context, see CD IV/3.1, p. 86; KD IV/3.1, p. 95. 144



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religions, only examples of clarification have been added – the same approach that entails the solidarity in the Light of Jesus Christ is also found in §69.

Conclusion Following the analysis of one of the core paragraphs of Church Dogmatics when examining Barth’s stance on non-Christian religions, some conclusions are now to be drawn, first specifically to the interpretation of §17, and then more broadly, with regard to the further development of a theology of non-Christian religions. First, let us turn again to the question that we raised at a very early stage in this chapter: To what extent should §17 be used in approaching non-Christian religions? It has been one of the main purposes of this chapter to show that an exclusive focus on §17 for the purpose of examining Barth’s theology of religions is misled. While it is certainly correct that this section of Church Dogmatics is one of the key passages discussing religion, Barth’s main purpose here is to engage with the movement represented by Friedrich Schleiermacher that drew religion to centre stage in Christian theology – and not to dismiss all religions that are not called ‘Christianity.’ Nonetheless, the mention of different religions makes the taking up of this paragraph into the interpretative staple of readings on the subject understandable. However, on closer examination, one will have to realize that Barth engages nowhere with a religion qua religion. The rare references to specific religions, particularly in the third section of §17, serve illustrative purposes – yet they are not of a condemning nature, they instead underline the main argument that religion in and of itself should never be at the heart of theology. Therefore, §17 cannot be the core text when examining Barth’s position on the non-Christian religions. Nonetheless, the question also remains whether it should not also be considered a problem if scholars approaching Barth’s work come to some hardly flattering conclusions. The works by Hick, Knitter and Ward on Barth’s approach to non-Christian religions resemble each other in their criticism, which has been shown to be misplaced. Consequently, this raises the question whether Barth could not have improved his argument in order to avoid this kind of confusion. It remains to be seen whether the more moderate approach

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that I have been suggesting throughout this chapter will be able to redeem this. Secondly, we have to stress once more that there is a distinction between divine and human judgement. It is worthwhile to re-emphasize here again: The sentence ‘religion is unbelief ’ is a divine judgement that does not result in a corresponding human judgement. By contrast, the proposition that ‘Christianity is the true religion’ is a statement of faith (Glaubenssatz) that anyone can utter only in fear and trembling in the awareness of the grace that this statement carries. While the efforts of Greggs’ recent work to ‘bring Barth’s critique of Religion to the inter-faith table’148 are to be applauded in their well-meant intentions, this raises the problem of mingling the divine judgement through revelation of religion and Barth’s argument of a crisis of religiosity and this crucial distinction is utterly lost in the argument.149 This leads us to our third point, which needs to stress the continuous distinction between Christentum and Christenheit. This is only part of the more important issue that speaks more favourably of the Christian Church as the locus of true religion insofar as it listens to God’s revelation, and does not give a blank cheque to Christianity as such.150 I have been arguing throughout this chapter for a distinction between the Christian faith and Christian religion. One might ask whether Barth by favouring the former over the latter espouses an early form of arguing for people being ‘spiritual, but not religious.’151 On closer examination, nothing seems further from the truth. Those calling themselves ‘spiritual, but not religious’ draw a distinction that ‘began to associate genuine faith with “private” realm of personal experience rather than the “public” realm of institutions, creeds, and rituals. The word spiritual gradually came to be associated with the private realm of thought and experience while the word religious came to be connected with the public realm of membership in religious institutions.’152 This distinction would be Greggs, ‘Inter-faith Table.’ This is an odd conclusion because the distinction is obvious in the article itself. See ibid., particularly pp. 84–85, where the solidarity with other religions is explicitly linked to the revelation of God. 150 To return to Greggs once more: It is rather incomprehensible to me how Greggs can ignore this differentiation, considering that he clearly states: ‘for all of his criticism of “religion,” he [Barth] is prepared to conclude his paragraph by speaking of the church as the locus of “True Religion”’ (Greggs, ‘Inter-faith Table,’ p. 77). 151 For a valuable introduction to this phenomenon, see e.g. Robert C. Fuller, Spiritual, but not Religious – Understanding Unchurched America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 152 Ibid., p. 5. 148 149



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foreign to Barth. While he remains critical of religion as a human endeavour, he would not accept a private Christianity as a valid option to live the Christian faith. Indeed, this also raises the question of the proper position of the ‘Christian Church’ in Church Dogmatics and Barth’s theology as a whole. This will be a question to which we will return again in Chapter 4, particularly when discussing the election of the community, but will also be one of the key issues in our concluding chapter. For the time being, it shall suffice to emphasize that the Christian Church is called to be a community that listens to God’s revelation. By following the analogy of the assumptio carnis introduced by Barth, it has to be emphasized that this does not make it a passive community of people but entails the call to actively contribute to be the ‘human face’ of revelation. §17 serves the purpose to show that the Christian community finds its true strength in the humility resulting from having its unbelief exposed by the revelation of God. This is true because the Church, without stopping being a religious community too, constantly points away from that which is religion to the God who through God’s revelation exalts her (hebt sie auf) and in the process might reveal God’s grace to all of God’s creation by speaking true words and becoming a light that points to the Light of Jesus Christ.

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After the examination of revelation and revelation as it relates to religion, this chapter will give insights into the nature of Barth’s theological anthropology. There are a number of reasons for doing this: First, it is a necessary consequence of one of the main arguments of Chapter 2, i.e. religion as the ‘human face of revelation’ (pp. 55–60). In light of this, it is therefore only feasible to ask the question: ‘who is the human being?’ Secondly, Barth’s theological anthropology will provide a necessary background for the doctrine of election, which will be the topic of Chapter 4. Some of the findings of this chapter will prove to be indispensable throughout the remainder of this work. Thirdly, and finally, it will become clear that the development of Barth’s approach to those who do not have a Christian faith is deeply rooted in his theological anthropology, and, thus, in the person of Jesus Christ. This is, in part, linked to Barth’s critical approach to the term ‘religion’ that we saw repeatedly in Chapter 2 and his understanding of it as a human construct, unless it stays close to divine revelation. However, as will be seen, this is not a weakness, but much rather a different mode of emphasis: While the approach suggested here is undoubtedly arguing from the perspective of Christian faith, it provides an indispensable element in the development of a Christian theology of religions using Barth’s thought. There are a number of notoriously difficult terms that we are dealing with in this chapter. First, an obvious problem which we encountered already at earlier stages is the use of the term ‘man’ to translate the word ‘Mensch,’ particularly when working from the English translation of Church Dogmatics, but also when using English translations of writings by Barth’s contemporaries. In the

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context of this chapter, I will maintain the original translation, stating at the outset here that ‘man’ in these cases is to be understood as referring to ‘human being’ in both male and female form, unless explicitly stated otherwise. In my own text, I will change the term ‘man’ to ‘human being,’ yet maintain the male personal pronoun (rather than replacing it with ‘it’). Secondly, there is an array of issues relating to the pairing of ‘human/ humane’ and the corresponding noun for both these terms ‘humanity.’ This is probably best illustrated with an example: In §45, ‘[The Human Being] in his determination as the Covenant-partner of God,’ Barth introduces these terms. Compare and contrast the following: In the original German, Barth asks: ‘Was ist Menschlichkeit, Humanität, menschliche Geschöpflichkeit?’1 By contrast, the English translation renders this: ‘What is humanity, human creatureliness?’2 Even without any knowledge of German, one notices that there are three terms in the question in German, whereas the English translation only uses two. The difficulty, thus, does not lie with the term ‘human creatureliness,’ but precisely with the key term ‘humanity.’ The term Menschlichkeit incorporates both the sense of being human, as well as being or acting humane, while obviously not referring to the same.3 This is of crucial importance, as Barth continues to differentiate between ‘Humanität’ and ‘Menschlichkeit,’ especially throughout §45 of Church Dogmatics. This difference will be highlighted whenever necessary throughout this chapter. I will begin with my engagement with Barth’s theological anthropology. After delineating some core characteristics (pp. 85–89), I will focus on Barth’s understanding of the human being as the creature of God (pp. 89–96) and then moving to the understanding of the human being as a being in relationship, both with God and with other human beings (pp. 96–104). The chapter will in the second part (pp. 104–10) turn to Barth’s doctrine of sin, providing, thus, a bridge to the doctrine of election, which will be the topic of Chapter 4.

KD III/2, p. 269. CD III/2, p. 225.   3 Compare here the entry on ‘Menschlichkeit’ in Duden – Deutsches Universalwörterbuch (Mannheim: Dudenverlag/Bibliographisches Institut, 6th edn, 2006): ‘Menschlichkeit … a) das Sein, Dasein als Mensch, als menschliches Wesen … b) menschliche [tolerant, nachsichtig, human] Haltung und Gesinnung.’   1   2



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Approaching Barth’s theological anthropology What then does it mean to be a human being in Barth’s thought? This section will examine Barth’s development of his theological anthropology, first in the early form in the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion, and, subsequently, in the context of his doctrine of creation in volume III/2 of Church Dogmatics, referring to other material as appropriate.4

Theological anthropology as part of Barth’s theological thought What does it mean to be human? How is the human being to be understood? Barth’s answer to these questions plays certainly a subordinate role in his overall theological project – the emphasis remains that doing theology concerns itself first and primarily with God, and God’s action in the world. Nonetheless, the question of the human being will have to be answered. It is a direct result of one of the facts that we delineated in Chapter 1: Revelation does not occur to an empty void, it is addressed to someone; the human being is the recipient of divine revelation. This is precisely the point where Barth begins his first development of a theological anthropology in the context of his first dogmatic effort, the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion: ‘Addressed by God, man recognizes himself amongst all other creatures as one of them, but simultaneously as the creature in which God’s purpose for the whole world shall be revealed.’5 Doing theological anthropology, Barth affirms from the beginning that the human being will be considered in his relationship to God. Put more sharply: ‘addressed by God, man recognizes himself as this particular creature who stands in this particular situation and nature to be developed here.’6 The first point, thus, is to note that Barth approaches the question of anthropology from the perspective of what God has to say about the human being. Secondly, Barth emphasizes that the human being is created in the image of God. Immediately, this raises the question of human sinfulness and its Space does not allow to focus on the other parts of Barth’s doctrine of creation, yet it is also more pressing an issue to focus on the main issues linked to theological anthropology that are discussed here in detail, namely: The human being as created in the image of God and the human being as a being in relationship with God and with other human beings.   5 Unterricht II, p. 344.   6 Ibid.   4

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contradiction to bearing the image of God. While we will return to the question of sin again below when discussing Barth’s doctrine of sin (pp. 104–10), when discussing this issue, it has to be noted at this point that Barth distinguishes between the original creation and human acts displaying sinfulness: ‘Man is not originally evil … man is originally good, and this is then in a word the teaching of the original state (Urstand), of the imago Dei. This leads us to another qualification: The original state is not a state of neutrality, of indifference, of equilibrium between good and evil, for or against God. It is the act of the decision for God.’7 We will return to this in more detail below, particularly when discussing Barth’s criticism of Emil Brunner’s favouring of a state of neutrality in the human being. Thirdly, Barth introduces the idea of the covenant as a determining factor in the relationship between God and the human being. This aspect points beyond the first and second aspect, which have just been outlined, as revelation ‘consists in the promise given to man, that he might complete his race as creature in the sharing of the eternal life of his Creator, as well as the demand directed towards to him, which is to be worthy of this eternal life and to be faithful to the calling that has been given to him.’8 The link is established here with the doctrine of election; in this context, Barth underlines the temporality (Vorläufigkeit) of the human existence, basing this not only in the creatureliness of the human being,9 but also the fact that the human being is created in God’s image.10 Barth relates this to the reality of revelation, the human being ‘is only fully described if one recognizes him as candidate and heir of eternal life in community with God. He is addressed as such in revelation in … the covenant established by God between God and man.’11 Importantly, this covenant goes beyond human sin – ‘the whole man, also disregarding sin, in the same way is taken to account by God, in need of God, bound to God’12 – a point to which we will return in the context of Barth’s doctrine of sin (pp. 104–10). In the context of Church Dogmatics, we find these themes developed further. Barth begins his examination of theological anthropology by asking Unterricht II, p. 366. Unterricht II, p. 381.   9 Unterricht II, pp. 385–86.  10 Unterricht II, pp. 387–88.  11 Unterricht II, p. 388.  12 Unterricht II, p. 395.   7   8



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for the role of theological anthropology within dogmatic thought. First, it has to be noted that the human being only becomes an issue in the theological endeavour by the awareness to the Word of God and the fact that the relationship between God and the human being is central to the Scriptures. Secondly, theological anthropology has the task to explicate ‘the knowledge of man which is made possible and needful by the fact that man stands in the light of the Word of God. The Word of God is thus its foundation. We hasten to add that for this very reason it expounds the truth about man.’13 This is what distinguishes theological anthropology from other approaches to anthropology: The starting point is God’s revelation; theological anthropology has to begin from this perspective. This starting point for the development of a theological anthropology is certainly not without its critics. Barth reacts, similarly to what we saw in Chapter 2 in the context of religion (pp. 55–60), to those who want to put the human being centre stage. This is contrary to Brunner’s assessment that Barth’s theological anthropology in Church Dogmatics is displaying a completely ‘new Barth,’14 which moves beyond the categorical distinction between God and the human being. Instead, as will be seen, Barth here develops and sharpens some of the themes from the time of the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion. Refusing to put the human being centre stage, for example, has been a concern for Barth since the 1920s. In a response to a study entitled, ‘Of God in the human’ (Vom Gott im Menschen), Barth refutes the approach suggested in the book Barth is discussing ‘to understand God from the human.’15 What unites Barth’s doctrine of revelation and his theological anthropology is therefore a perspective that starts with God, and only subsequently moves to the human being. We note here, thus, the necessity of turning to the question of theological anthropology in the overall endeavour. For Barth as a Christian theologian, the question of what it means to be a human being has to be understood in the light of revelation, the topic which we discussed in Chapter 1. From that context, we remind CD III/2, p. 20; KD III/2, p. 21. Emil Brunner, ‘The New Barth – Observations on Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Man,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 4:2 (1951), pp. 123–35 (124).  15 Karl Barth, ‘Polemisches Nachwort – Stellungnahme zu der Schrift von Wilhelm Bruhn, Vom Gott im Menschen,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–30 (GA III.24) (ed. Hermann Schmidt; Zürich: TVZ, 1994), pp. 44–56; p. 51.  13  14

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ourselves that God acts in revelation as both subject and object. Formulating this more sharply in the present context, this means that in the light of revelation, we can look to Jesus Christ, the Son of God, fully God and fully human in order to know what it means to be human (and, also what we can know about God). Just as in the case in the development of the doctrine of revelation, we will note, in the comparison to the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion, a Christological sharpening of Barth’s theological anthropology in Church Dogmatics. By contrast, it will become obvious in Chapter 4 when discussing the question of election that it stands in reciprocal relationship to Barth’s understanding of what it means to be human. This concerns the issue of covenant, which will be one of the recurring themes in the present chapter. The covenant that is displayed in the relationship between the Godhead and God the Son is opened up to all human beings, while establishing a covenantal relationship between all human beings. This concept will prove to be foundational to the doctrine of election when it is discussed there. Consequently, the two opposing poles between which the human being has to be considered are: the human being as a creature of sin and as a creature of God. For Barth, the key to understanding this in the light of the Word of God is to understand the human being as ‘the partner in the covenant which God has made with him, of man as the object of the eternal grace of his Creator and Lord.’16 Approaching theological anthropology in this way means that the human being will, despite his sinfulness, never be considered as a creature apart from God: ‘Man belongs to God, not to Satan, nor to himself nor any one else.’17 These points allow Barth to reformulate the question of theological anthropology in the following way: If we want to understand what it means to be human, we have to consider the human being Jesus Christ: ‘What is the creaturely nature of man to the extent that, looking to the revealed grace of God and concretely to the man Jesus, we can see in it a continuum unbroken by sin, an essence which even sin does not and cannot change?’18 This is the question that Barth is addressing in this section of Church Dogmatics. Barth builds his theological anthropology, thus, on Christology – while firmly asserting that they are not the same – in order to deduce what it means CD III/2, p. 31; KD III/2, pp. 34–35. CD III/2, p. 34; KD III/2, p. 39. CD III/2, p. 43; KD III/2, p. 50.

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to be human from what Scripture says about Jesus. ‘So long as we select any other starting point for our study,’ Barth argues, ‘we shall reach only the phenomena of the human. We are condemned to abstractions so long as our attention is riveted as it were on other men, or rather on man in general.’19 As Mikkelsen reminds us: ‘the real man is used as an eschatological category in which the human being sees itself under the final judgement and grace of God, both of which are fulfilled in Christ.’20 In the following two sections, we will explicate these general characteristics further under the two broad headings of ‘The human being as a creature of God’ (pp. 89–96) and ‘The human being as being in relationship’ (pp. 96–104). As will be seen, the human being portrayed in Barth’s theological anthropology will always be interpreted from the perspective of God, independent from human categories such as gender, nationality or religion.

The human being as a creature of God When speaking about the human being, Barth suggests that the starting point should be looking at the human being Jesus Christ. The final and last word about God but also about man is spoken in Him [Jesus Christ]. Whoever hears this word, knows man – NB: not only himself, personally, but together with knowing himself, also his fellow human being who might not hear this word yet or not yet accurately – everybody, all human beings, man in and of himself. In this word, it becomes visible like in a mirror, who and what man was as God’s creature and in his human nature and secretly still is; and who and what man will be as a child of God in the completion of God’s work and secretly already is.21

At the very outset, this has far-reaching consequences regarding the scope of taking this approach. When starting with Jesus Christ, ‘it says of all other men – those who were before Him and those who were after Him, those who knew Him and those who did not know Him or did so only indirectly, those who accepted Him and those who rejected Him – at least that they were and are CD III/2, p. 132; KD III/2, p. 158. Hans Vium Mikkelsen, Reconciled Humanity – Karl Barth in Dialogue (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2010), p. 96.  21 Das Christliche Leben, p. 28.  19  20

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creaturely beings whom this man is like for all His unlikeness, and in whose sphere and fellowship and history this one man also existed in likeness with them.’22 Webster is, thus, correct in asserting that ‘in his anthropology, [Barth] is not simply talking of the being of the Christian or of the religious person, but of humanity as such.’23 We saw this point being made from a different angle in the context of the doctrine of revelation. In Chapter 1 (pp. 21–24), I argued for the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ for all human beings, no matter whether they have encountered this revelation or not. What was said there about the scope of revelation is now examined in the context of anthropology: ‘The question whether and to what extent he knows this Neighbour [Jesus Christ], and what attitude he adopts to Him, is no doubt important, but it is secondary to that which has already been decided, namely, whether he can be a man at all without this Neighbour. Once for all, this question has been decided in the negative for every man. We cannot break free from this Neighbour. He is definitively our Neighbour.’24 As will be seen in Chapter 4 (pp. 118–30), this will form a central aspect of the argument in the context of the doctrine of election. Barth is undoubtedly aware of the fact that this starting point is open to attack. Against the biblical evidence, however, he sees it as an inescapable consequence: ‘every man as such is the fellow-man of Jesus. The biblical message to which we must keep is neither timid nor distracted in this respect … the existence of this one man concerns every other man as such, and that the fact that He too is a man is the ground on which every other man is to be addressed and to which every other man is to be kept.’25 This leads to a positive view of the human being as such; despite his sinfulness and rebellion against God, the human being is seen as bearer of the image of God, as revealed in the person of Jesus Christ. Barth’s engagement with Brunner’s theological anthropology is in many ways instructive, both in the aspects that Barth wants to focus on in his project and the issues that he disagrees with. It is worthwhile here to engage with the

CD III/2, p. 133; KD III/2, p. 159. John B. Webster, Karl Barth (London: Continuum, 2nd edn, 2004), p. 100.  24 CD III/2, p. 133; KD III/2, p. 159.  25 CD III/2, p. 134; KD III/2, pp. 159–60.  22  23



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passage in Church Dogmatics where Barth discusses Brunner’s work,26 as well as to turn to Brunner’s writings.27 At the heart of Barth’s criticism of Brunner is that Brunner argues for human neutrality towards God, despite arguing (with Barth) for the human being made in the image of God and as God’s covenant partner. Brunner’s approach is ‘to understand the being of man as positively determined and filled in relationship to God; to keep the concept of human freedom, rationality, responsibility, personality, historicity and capacity for decision clear of any confusion occasioned by an implicit neutrality; to describe man as the creature of God unequivocally as man in covenant with God; and therefore not to regard the possibility of sin as one of the possibilities given in human creatureliness.’28 Barth bases this interpretation on a range of passages from Brunner’s Man in Revolt;29 in a representative fashion, one might point to Brunner’s statement that ‘what Christ has done governs the perspective of all that becomes the subject of Christian thought. From the point of view of this world-decision alone does the whole of human life gain its quality of decision.’30 In his Dogmatics, Brunner would later formulate this as follows: ‘As a creature “I” belong wholly to God; I am not independent and free, but I am a being who is derived from, and made for, God.’31 Barth criticizes the basis for a positive view of the human being in the human being’s creatureliness, yet precisely this basis is not clarified by Brunner: ‘That there is also bondage (Unfreiheit), irrationality, irresponsibility, and therefore apostasy not only from God but also from man’s true being, and therefore – not as a possibility but as an impossibility – sin; all this seems to be for Brunner a foreseen possibility within the rationality and responsibility given to man with his creation,

CD III/2, pp. 128–32; KD III/2, pp. 153–57. Emil Brunner, Der Mensch im Widerspruch – Die Christliche Lehre vom wahren und wirklichen Menschen (Berlin: Furche Verlag, 1937). English Translation: Emil Brunner, Man in Revolt – A Christian Anthropology (trans. Olive Wyon; London: Lutterworth Press, 1939). All quotes in this section will refer to the German edition followed by the English edition in brackets. Another helpful book on Brunner’s thought is the second volume of his dogmatics: Emil Brunner, The Christian Doctrine of Creation and Redemption – Dogmatics Vol. II (trans. Olive Wyon; London: Lutterworth Press, 1952).  28 CD III/2, p. 155; KD III/2, p. 130.  29 For the full list of references to Brunner given by Barth, see the paragraph CD III/2, pp. 129–30; KD III/2, pp. 153–54.  30 Brunner, Mensch im Widerspruch, p. 458 [p. 442].  31 Brunner, The Christian Doctrine of Creation and Redemption, p. 55.  26  27

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and therefore in some sense to have its root in the Word of God in which man has his being.’32 We arrive here at a theme that will play a role again in Chapter 4 when discussing Barth’s doctrine of election: human freedom. Barth’s criticism of Brunner is that he tries to maintain the interpretation of the human being from God, while trying to give the human being power and the right to exercise his freedom together with or without God: ‘As Brunner sees it, man seems to be free to realise his being either in loyalty or disloyalty to God, to choose as his master either God, [or] himself or the devil, either to confirm or to deny his creatureliness and therefore his being in the Word of God.’33 By contrast, Brunner raises this issue as one of his questions that he has for Barth: ‘In brief, because every man in virtue of his creation is in Christ, everyone has therefore a share in the redemption whether he believes or not, everyone is “a member in the Body of the Head”.’34 We will have to return to this issue in due course; however, we note that Barth’s interpretation of Brunner shows that there is an apparent tension in Barth’s anthropology: Does Barth’s theological anthropology leave no space for human involvement and human freedom? By way of conclusion for our discussion on Brunner’s work, we will answer this question. The key to understanding Barth’s approach seems to be, once more, his concern for Church proclamation and interpreting his writing as that of a pastoral theologian. When turning to his doctrine of sin below (pp. 104–10), it will become clear that he does not have the intention to dismiss the gravity of sin or the need for active participation in the gift from God. However, Barth is interested in encouraging the Church to represent and to proclaim that human nature ‘does not consist in the freedom of a heart closed to the fellowman, but in that of a heart open to the fellow-man.’35 Barth sees a danger in proclaiming anything else apart from the close proximity of the human being and God: ‘in preaching, instruction and the cure of souls a picture of man is used which does not correspond to the reality, but to an erroneous figment of the imagination.’36 Precisely in the context CD III/2, pp. 130–31, rev.; KD III/2, p. 156. CD III/2, p. 131; KD III/2, p. 156.  34 Brunner, ‘The New Barth,’ p. 134.  35 CD III/2, p. 278; KD III/2, p. 335.  36 Ibid.  32  33



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of the Church though, one cannot afford to work with an approach that is ambiguous or unclear: ‘He [the human being] will then either not hear at all the new and different thing which he ought to be told as that which is Christian, or he will not receive it as such, and either way he cannot take up the corresponding attitude in relation to it.’37 For Barth, everything hinges on this: Pointing continuously and unswervingly to Jesus Christ has to be preferred to taking the opportunity that ‘from the pulpit an attempt is made to blacken even that which is human in him for all his wickedness, and with a more or less clear awareness of the truth.’38 Taking this route is disastrous as ‘he [man listening] is forced to resist this attack. How can he accept a serious accusation in this respect, as the message of the Christian Church seems to demand? He will rightly defend himself against what he is told. He will not be convicted of his sin if he is uncharitably – and, [to put it plainly,] falsely – addressed concerning his humanity.’39 Precisely the opposite is the case, and for our overall project, it is essential to note: ‘there is a humanity common to the Christian and non-Christian to which [the Christian Church] must relate itself, which it must presuppose, which it must take into account in its message, with which it must contrast its message, and which it must above all know and take seriously as such.’40 This is the promised human nature that the Church is called to proclaim, as it has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ; this is the divine Yes God has spoken to all human beings in the person of Jesus Christ.41 It is also to be noted that Barth maintains the dialectical relationship between God and the human being from his doctrine of revelation (see Chapter 1, pp. 11–17). In Jesus Christ, ‘in the person of this One, [we are put in front of our divine counterpart].’42 Yet, just as in revelation, this does not mean a one-way directionality, but also a dialogical relationship between God and the human being. It means that, despite the starting point remaining God, theological anthropology is not a clear one-way street, but desires the CD III/2, p. 279; KD III/2, p. 336. This is exactly the same approach that Barth takes when speaking for the proclamation of election not being paired with a proclamation of reprobation (see most clearly, CD II/2, p. 18; KD II/2, p. 17). This will be discussed further, see pp. 118–30).  38 Ibid.  39 CD III/2, p. 279, rev.; KD III/2, p. 336.  40 CD III/2, p. 279, rev.; KD III/2, p. 336.  41 This is the positive note that I addressed in the context of religion, which argued that the human being has been reconciled together with his or her religion (CD I/2, p.  299; KD I/2, p.  326) (see Chapter 2, pp. 60–67), and will be a major theme in the concluding Chapter 7.  42 CD III/2, p. 134, rev.; KD III/2, p. 160.  37

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involvement of the human being, asks for participation, demands a response.43 While not dismissing the importance of the human being, the determining factor in doing theological anthropology remains, thus, God: Being human means therefore, fundamentally and comprehensively: being, together with God. What the human being is in this Counterpart, that is obviously the fundamental and comprehensive determination of his own being. Whatever else he is or is additionally to that: he is that on the ground of being together with Jesus and, thus, with God … With this basic determination, we have already reached the point in which the reality of the human being has its origin, in which the whole creaturely being of the human being is summarized, beyond which we can never go, from which we will never be allowed to abstract when considering the specific determination of his being.44

It means, therefore, that the human being – any human being – is to be considered in the light of his or her relationship to God. Based on what was said regarding the Christocentric theological anthropology that Barth suggests, looking at any human being will include looking at Jesus Christ, and seeing the fellow human being in the Light of Christ. We will return to this point in greater detail below when examining the human being in relation to God, as well as their fellow human beings. Before moving to the next section, a final comment is necessary on the general nature of Barth’s starting point in theological anthropology. Reflecting on the development of his approach at a later stage, Barth argued for an understanding of his project as ‘theoanthropology’ that sees at its core ‘the free love of God that evokes the response of free love.’45 What can this term tell us about Barth’s method? First, it has to be noted that Barth remains firmly convinced that theology has to remain theology and cannot become anthropology. Consistent with what we have seen in the introductory comments on theological anthropology, Barth See the following section (pp. 96–104) and the idea of God and the human being as ‘partners’ developed there, as well as the phrase coined by Jüngel, ‘Gott spricht, der Mensch entspricht’ (‘God speaks, man corresponds’) (n. 70). Finally, for an early account of Barth’s exposition of a dialogical approach to divine-human correspondence, see Karl Barth, ‘Kirche und Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1922–1925 (GA III.19) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich TVZ, 1990), pp. 644–82, particularly pp.  668–75. Here, Barth develops the dialogical approach to theology, within the broader framework of a dialectical starting point.  44 CD III/2, p. 135, rev.; KD III/2, pp. 161–62.  45 The term itself appears for the first time in Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction (trans. G. Foley; Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1963), p. 12.  43



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refuses to put the human being centre stage by starting from the human being – even within the endeavour of doing theological anthropology. He coins the term ‘theoanthropology’ to express his concern that theology has to pursue the knowledge of God when trying to come to an understanding of the human being: ‘God and man! That means, however: God for man, God with man, God in front of and above man and behind man. But – there is man! It concerns him.’46 The primary perspective remains from God to the human being, however, not vice versa: theoanthropology ‘should never be confused with “anthropotheology”.’47 The starting point in doing theological anthropology is and has to remain God. Secondly, and foreshadowing the next section, the idea of the covenant becomes of crucial importance in this context. Just as in the first point, this concerns ‘God and man’ and, as Barth suggests, ‘from there, the biblical idea of the covenant became important to me. It is already the topic in the Old Testament: God and His people. “You shall be my people, I shall be your God!” (Lev. 26.12).’48 We have already seen in this section one aspect of the covenant, namely the covenant between God and the human being. In ‘The human being as being in relationship’ (pp. 96–104), we will take this idea further and argue for the covenant between human beings themselves in the light of the covenant with God. This, of course, will always have to be considered in the light of this primary covenant – it is only because of the covenant between God and the human being, as reflected in the person of Jesus Christ, that this dimension is added. Furthermore, it is here that the issue raised for the first time in Chapter 2 (pp. 60–67) in the context of the discussion of grace and mercy extended to all religions receives an even more poignant relevance. In a first summary, we note the following: The fact that the human being is created in the image of God and is thus to be understood in the light of Jesus Christ proves to be foundational to the concept of Barth’s theological Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol,’ p. 161. Barth, Evangelical Theology – An Introduction (trans. Grover Foley; Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1979), p.  12. The English edition translates the German ‘Theanthropologie’ with ‘Theoanthropology.’ For engagement with the difference between these two terms, see Karl Barth, ‘Gespräch in Bièvres,’ in Gespräche 1963 (GA IV.41) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), pp.176–220, particularly pp. 177–85.  48 Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol,’ p. 161. Interestingly, Barth continues this with a selfassessment regarding the change he undergoes in his approach. Barth says that this has become ‘a little more human’ than – and this is the point of reference that he has – in his commentary on the epistle to the Romans. See also the sermon Barth preached on the verse Lev. 26.12 to which I refer again in n. 83: Karl Barth, ‘Mitten unter Euch – Euer Gott – Mein Volk! 3. Mose 26,12’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp. 55–63.  46  47

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anthropology. It provides the basis for the positive approach to the human being that will prove central to Barth’s theology as Christian theology of religions, as it looks beyond human sinfulness and any other human categories and makes them secondary to this primary attribute. How this affects the human being in relationship will be the focus of the following section.

The human being as being in relationship In the light of everything that has been said so far, it is worthwhile to re-emphasize at this point one of the key points from the preceding analysis: If one wants to come to understand what it means to be a human being, one will have to start with looking at Jesus Christ. In the light of this, there are a number of concrete implications. First, as has already been pointed out above, the view of the human being – no matter their sinfulness, their background, their Christian faith or lack thereof – will have to be positive. In Dogmatics in Outline, Barth formulates this as follows: ‘to be brought actively into the great hope of Jesus Christ which holds for all men, is truly not a matter of course … thereby, I am put into the position of having on my part to regard men, all men, quite differently from before; I can now no longer do otherwise than hope the best for all.’49 For our purpose, it has to be stressed here that this further illuminates what we saw at the beginning of the analysis of §17 and the argument for great mercy and patience to be extended to all religions.50 We are not only dealing with different religions, but indeed with other human beings who do not share the Christian faith. We will return to this below when returning to the question of religion as the ‘human face of revelation,’ which we discussed already in Chapter 2, as well as in Chapter 4 in the context of election. Secondly, and related to this, the hoping for the best of all does not mean a passive and withdrawn attitude towards the world. Instead, it means an active participation in the proclamation of the Gospel and the invitation to Christian faith. This is the characteristic of the time between Jesus Christ’s ministry on earth and his return.51 We will return to this in more detail in the concluding Dogmatics in Outline, p. 130; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 162. See for this Chapter 2, n. 34 and also Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol,’ p. 146.  51 See Dogmatics in Outline, p. 119; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 149 where Barth describes this time as the ‘time of the great opportunity, of the task of the Church towards the world.’  49  50



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Chapter 7. For the moment, we only note that the common humanity includes a missionary mandate, particularly once more, in light of Jesus Christ: ‘There is the “Christ-believing group”; but this group is sent out: “Go and preach the Gospel!” It does not say, “Go and celebrate services!” … nothing, nothing at all for its own sake! In it all the one thing must prevail: “Proclaim the Gospel to every creature!” … For it is an out-and-out “worldly” thing open to all humanity.’52 Therefore, the theological anthropology Barth develops is centred on Jesus Christ, yet with a deep concern for and awareness of the world.53 It seems therefore intuitive that Barth discusses the relationship of the human being to his fellow human beings in the context of the relationship in covenant with God. One of the key sentences from the previous section, ‘Being human means … fundamentally and comprehensively: being, together with God,’54 highlights the intrinsically relational character of the human being. Therefore, this is not to be considered independently from what has been said in the previous section, but it should be seen as illuminating the same issue from a different angle: Whereas the previous section considered the human being from above, as God’s creature, we are now turning to the human being’s ‘distinction from God, in his humanity, that he is ordained to be God’s covenant-partner. In this continuation of theological anthropology we now address ourselves to all the problems which might be summed up under the title “The Humanity of Man.”’55 Consistent with the previous section, therefore, Barth continues to interpret his theological anthropology Christologically: ‘If the divinity of the man Jesus is to be described comprehensively in the statement that He is man for God, His humanity can and must be described no less succinctly in the proposition that He is man for man, for other men, [for] His fellows.’56 The humanity of Jesus Christ is therefore inherently linked to its relational character: ‘When we think of the humanity of Jesus, humanity is to be described unequivocally as fellow-humanity (Mitmenschlichkeit).’57 These are the aspects examined more closely in this section.

Dogmatics in Outline, pp. 137–38; Dogmatik im Grundriß, pp. 171–72. Alternatively, one might use the word ‘cosmos’ here. See e.g. CD III/2, p. 203; KD III/2, p. 243. CD III/2, p. 135, rev., KD III/2, pp. 161–62.  55 CD III/2, p. 204, KD III/2, p. 243. ‘Humanity’ refers here to the quality of being human.  56 CD III/2, p. 208, rev.; KD III/2, p. 248. ‘Humanity’ here refers to being/acting humane, the German term is Humanität.  57 Ibid.  52  53  54

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The first question becomes that of the foundation of the covenant between God and the human being. This, as has already been pointed out, has a Christological basis. Aptly, Barth summarizes this focus in one sermon by stating: ‘This eternal covenant between God and us human beings is called Jesus Christ, in whom God gave Himself for us human beings, in whom, thus, all demands which God can have towards us, but also all demands which we could have towards God are already fulfilled.’58 The question, ‘what it is that makes them capable of entering into covenant (bündnisfähig) with God as the creatures of God,’59 will only be answered adequately if it is answered from the perspective of God: ‘He [man] can do it only as God makes him His partner, as He calls him to take up this relationship, as he exists as the one who is summoned to do so. It is again the inconceivable grace of God that He concludes this covenant with man, that He calls him to it, and sets him in a position to respond.’60 We discover here once again a parallel to the doctrine of revelation, where the divine action of revelation (extra nos) carries with it an impact for the human being (pro nobis).61 In this context, it is also important to underline that Barth stresses God’s sovereignty and freedom, and contrasts it with capriciousness: The covenant that God establishes with the human being ‘rests on the freedom of God in which there is nothing arbitrary or accidental but in which God is true to Himself,’62 i.e. the covenant is something that is natural to God’s being in Trinity: ‘God repeats in this relationship ad extra (nach außen) a relationship proper to Himself in His inner divine essence.’63 Therefore, this is a direct result of the being of God, or as Jüngel summarizes it aptly: ‘in this determination, God’s “being-already-ours-in-advance,” which is grounded in the Trinitarian “being-for-itself,” directs itself, as it were, “outwardly” in order that in revelation there may be “an overflowing of His inward activity and being, of the inward vitality which He has in Himself.”’64

Karl Barth, ‘Psalm 85, 10–29. Juli 1947, Immanuelskirche Barmen,’ in Predigten 1935–1952 (GA I.26) (ed. Harmut Spieker and Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1996), p. 371.  59 CD III/2, p. 224; KD III/2, p. 267.  60 Ibid.  61 Compare Chapter 1, pp. 17–21.  62 CD III/2, p. 218; KD III/2, p. 260.  63 Ibid.  64 Jüngel, God’s Being is in Becoming, p. 91. The note to the term outwardly in this quote states that ‘God’s being cannot be divided into inner and outer’ (ibid., n. 58). The last internal quote refers to CD II/2, p. 175.  58



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The initial movement that makes the covenant possible originates, thus, from an outward step by God, moving towards the human being. The second question that needs to be addressed is the nature of the covenant relationship between God and the human being.65 The two perspectives that will need to be addressed are what it means for God to be the covenant partner of the human being, as well as what it means for the human being to be the covenant partner of God. As previously, the central aspect of this is Jesus Christ, where God and the human being are most clearly united and from where the examination will have to begin.66 What does it mean to understand God as the covenant partner of the human being? We have already seen part of the answer to this question in the previous paragraph: It is an intrinsic part of God’s nature to be relational, and this will be further examined in Chapter 4 when discussing the doctrine of election. For the moment, we can further note that it is also important to understand the imago Dei, the image of God in which the human being is created. This is at the intersection of what we argued for in ‘The human being as a creature of God’ (pp. 89–96) regarding the creatureliness of the human being and the humanity of the human being: God creates ‘man as the one whom He summons into life (den Menschen als zu seinem Aufgerufenen),’67 which points to the positive nature of the human being as a creature of God. However, it also illustrates that there exists a fundamental distinction between the divine and the human. The imago Dei hints at correspondence, yet denies equality. However, and this is crucial for the present context, there is a relation between the divine and the human: ‘It is a question of the relationship within the being of God on the one side and between the being of God and that of man on the other. Between these two relationships as such – and it is in this sense that the second is the image of the first – there is correspondence For this section, see the article by Wolf Krötke, ‘Gott und Mensch als “Partner” – Zur Bedeutung einer zentralen Kategorie in Karl Barths Kirchlicher Dogmatik,’ in Heidelore Köckert and Wolf Krötke (eds), Theologie als Christologie – Zum Werk und Leben Karl Barths – Ein Symposium (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1988), pp. 106–20. Krötke discusses the partnership between God and the human particularly in the context of election, yet I am following here his distinction between what it means to understand, on the one hand, God as the partner of the human being, and, on the other hand, the human being as the partner of God.  66 See Krötke’s central thesis against an understanding of the relationship between God and the human being, which is too authoritarian: ‘Here [in these criticisms] something is torn apart – namely God and man – which is in Barth in recognition of Jesus Christ most intrinsically linked’ (Krötke, ‘Gott und Mensch als “Partner”,’ p. 109).  67 CD III/2, p. 155; KD III/2, p. 186.  65

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and similarity. There is an analogia relationis.’68 This analogy is therefore not one of being (analogia entis), but one of relation (analogia relationis).69 Jüngel formulates this fundamental aspect of Barth’s theological anthropology as follows: ‘God speaks – man corresponds. (Gott spricht – der Mensch entspricht). In that way, he is imago dei. In that way, theological anthropology is possible.’70 Jüngel elaborates further in this context: ‘Analogy means correspondence. Correspondence points to speech. God speaks His Yes. God’s Yes calls relationships and with these relationships beings-in-relationship (In-Beziehung-seiendes) into His being.’71 Barth, when discussing Jüngel’s approach and definition agrees with this interpretation, yet cautions against an overarching principle that would betray the starting point in God: ‘There is no binding principle (Klammer) other than the event – the Father and the Son – in the Holy Spirit! And thus we are warned to simply speak abstractly about a being (Seienden), despite the fact that it is about a being – and the same applies to “Creator and Creature.”’72 We note, thus, why Brunner refers to this volume of Church Dogmatics as ‘of all Barth’s works his most human.’73 The human being is still to be understood from God – anything else would betray Barth’s dialectical method and the danger of establishing an analogy of being seems too serious, ‘if the term “being” is given too much of a platform, Creator and creature are brought, like in the ancient Greek and scholastic theology, into too close a relationship – because this then would be that of a being-relationship.’74 However, it seems equally clear that Barth pays more CD III/2, p. 220; KD III/2, p. 262. Barth rejects in this context the analogia entis, and introducing this term opens the conversation whether God’s being is determined by God’s action or vice versa. I am intentionally staying clear of this conversation because it does not contribute to my overall argument here. For Barth, when talking about God’s being, we are talking about God’s action, thus God’s action and being are inseparable. See the debate between George Hunsinger and Bruce McCormack regarding the understanding of grace and being within Church Dogmatics (Hunsinger, ‘Election and the Trinity,’ pp. 179–98; McCormack, ‘Election and the Trinity: Theses in response to George Hunsinger,’ pp. 203–24).  69 Working with these terms relates one tangentially to the Catholic-Protestant division on this on our context here. For one discussion of this in the context of the doctrine of God (CD II/1), see von Balthasar, The Theology of Karl Barth, pp. 114–67.  70 Eberhard Jüngel, ‘Die Möglichkeit theologischer Anthropologie auf dem Grunde der Analogie – Eine Untersuchung zum Analogieverständnis Karl Barths,’ Evangelische Theologie 22 (1962), p. 552.  71 Ibid.  72 Karl Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Tübinger “Stiftlern”,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp.  31–129 (90). Barth here discusses a range of aspects of Jüngel’s interpretation of his analogical method, see ibid., pp. 86–92.  73 Brunner, ‘The New Barth,’ p. 135.  74 K. Hammer, ‘Analogia relationis gegen analogia entis,’ in Eberhard Busch, Jürgen Fangmeier, and Max Geiger (eds), Parrhesia – Karl Barth zum 80. Geburtstag (Zürich: EVZ, 1966), pp. 288–304,  68



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attention to the human being in the development of his theological anthropology: The human being is invited into the covenant to be bearers of the image of God. We will turn now to some aspects of what this means in more concrete terms. What does it mean, then, to understand the human being as the covenant partner of God? We have already pointed out that the fundamental determination of the human being is to be found in his being in relation with God.75 Further to this, it invites – more, even, it demands – the human participation in the covenant: ‘Man in covenant with God is not a neutral, white page; he is not an indefinable creature. As God’s partner, he is called to live his life in a certain way.’76 This principle will prove foundational in the discussion of sin and Barth’s understanding thereof as nothingness (pp. 104–10), as well as the understanding of human freedom in the context of election (pp. 138–41). Barth is again mindful of the correct directionality in understanding the human being as covenant partner of God as ‘a being which derives from God (von Gott her). But the idea of the dependence of the human being on the divine which this implies must be cleansed from the notion that the former is the necessary effect of God as its cause. God is undoubtedly cause and man effect. But both points are true only in the reality of encounter and therefore in the reality of the history in which this encounter takes place.’77 Linking back to the first question addressed and the argument that the covenant originates in a movement by God, this also clarifies what might happen if the human being falls short of the stipulations of the covenant, i.e. acts sinfully or contrary to the covenant: it means that ‘it sees their righteousness as reckoned, strictly as the righteousness of God, as the divine “nevertheless” and as a divine “therefore,” as forgiveness and not as an imprimatur upon what men are.’78 In the covenant of grace between the human being and God, God is faithful to this covenant, even when the human being falls short of the requirements of participating in this covenant.

p. 292. Hammer offers a discussion and defence of the analogia relationis, and argues that Barth’s method provides a basis for theological work that engages with the world, in the light of the relationship that God has established in the relationship with Jesus Christ.  75 CD III/2, p. 135; KD III/2, pp. 161–62, cited in n. 44.  76 Krötke, ‘Gott und Mensch als “Partner”,’ p. 112.  77 CD III/2, p. 163; KD III/2, pp. 194–95.  78 Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, p. 123.

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The third and final question concerns the nature of the covenant among human beings, occurring in the light of the covenant that God established with the human being. This is, according to Barth, far from peripheral to understanding the human being: It is not yet or no longer seen what humanity is when there is ascribed to man an existence which is abstract, i.e., abstracted from the co-existence of his fellows… If we see man in and for himself, and therefore without his fellows, we do not see him at all. If we see him in opposition or even neutrality towards his fellows, we do not see him at all. If we think that his humanity is only subsequently and secondarily determined, as an incidental enrichment, by the fact that he is not alone, we do not see him at all. If we do not realise and take into account from the very outset, from the first glance and word, the fact that he has a neighbour, we do not see him at all.79

What this means will have to be addressed here: It is again a direct result of Barth’s deriving of theological anthropology from Christology. If it is indeed the case that ‘every man as such is the fellow-man of Jesus,’80 then one will not be able to consider any human being in isolation from his or her fellow human beings. In very general terms, Barth asserts that ‘From the fact that this example is binding in humanity generally there follows the broad definition that humanity absolutely (schlechthin), [the humanity (Humanität) of each and every man, consists in the determination of man’s being with the other man].’81 More specifically, this means the following: The human being is to be seen as a relational being who stands in relationship with his or her neighbour. This is precisely not to be seen in abstract terms, but as the specific context of each and every human being. While this is a direct result of basing theological anthropology on Christology and starting with the concrete person Jesus Christ when asking about the human being,82 one might also argue here that this is another angle on Barth’s rejection of the analogia entis in favour of the analogia relationis. Here, we are talking about the relational character of the human being that determines his or her humanity (Humanität). This is to be CD III/2, pp. 226–27; KD III/2, p. 272–73. CD III/2, p. 134; KD III/2, p. 159.  81 CD III/2, p. 243, rev.; KD III/2, p. 290.  82 See here Das Christliche Leben, p. 28: ‘There is no abstract humanity, and thus no directed human self-understanding. Man is nothing more, nothing less, nothing different than what he is through and with and for Jesus Christ.’  79  80



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seen as parallel to the argument that Jesus Christ does not have an impact on an abstract entity called ‘humanity’ (Menschheit), but the individual human beings who are making up the totality of humankind. In a sermon, Barth speaks to this individual and corporate character: ‘I [God] want to be the One who as Creator of Heaven and Earth … belongs exactly to you, so that you can say to me: Our Father! Our God! And each and every one: My Father! My God! Exactly for you did I give Myself in My own Son. And thus I want to be God for you.’83 We will find a similar argument being made in Chapter 4, when Barth emphasizes that there is no independent election of the community and of the individual. Here, we need to emphasize that ‘we could hardly see the man Jesus as attested in the New Testament if we closed our eyes to the twofold fact that His being is both from and to His [fellow man (Mitmenschen), so that He is only with him, and only in this way] man in His distinctive sovereignty.’84 Barth continues by stating that Jesus Christ is to be seen as in relationship with human beings: ‘We see Him as theirs, determined by them and for them, belonging to each and every one of them [in a particular way] (einem Jeden von ihnen in besonderer Weise zugehörig).’85 This further illustrates what I argued for in the context of Chapter 2 (pp. 55–60), when speaking about religion assuming the ‘human face’ of revelation: While there exists a clear distinction between the divine and human, those of Christian faith are called to be pointers to Jesus Christ in their word and deed; by being neighbour to their fellow human beings,86 the action that the Christian believers are called to – in the light of their awareness that Jesus Christ is their fellow man – is one characterized by humane compassion, grace and mercy. By doing this, ‘The counterpart (Gegenbild) of the man Jesus; the picture of man who, although he is not God, is adopted by God in the man Jesus; the picture of the man whom God is for as He is for the man Jesus; the picture of this man is the realistic

Barth, ‘Mitten unter Euch – Euer Gott – Mein Volk! 3. Mose 26,12,’ pp. 59–60. CD III/2, p. 216, rev.; KD III/2, p. 257.  85 Ibid.  86 See for this also the brief elaboration in the immediate context on the ‘two-fold law of love,’ which clearly distinguishes between love of God and love of neighbour. (CD III/2, pp. 216–17; KD III/2, p. 258).  83  84

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picture of real man … man is not alone, but with his fellow-man, needing his help and pledged to help him.’87 In summary, we note the following: Barth’s theological anthropology is inherently relational, both in a vertical sense, i.e. how God and the human being relate to one another, and in a horizontal sense, i.e. how human beings are called to relate to one another. Central to this relational character of Barth’s theological anthropology is Jesus Christ. As Jesus Christ is both fully God and fully human, the divine Yes of the covenant that God establishes with all human beings through Jesus Christ is unbreakable, as God cannot be unfaithful to Godself. This will prove to be foundational for the doctrine of election and the derivative election of all human beings in Jesus Christ in Chapter 4 (pp. 118–30), but also to our conclusion in Chapter 7 as it forms a core characteristic of the way Barth’s theology can be used in the context of Christian theology of religions.

Barth’s doctrine of sin The doctrine of revelation in Chapter 1 could without difficulty be explained with an outright emphasis on divine initiative. Doing something similar with the doctrine of sin seems problematic to say the least. Nonetheless, it is essential to turn to Barth’s understanding of sin in the context of theological anthropology.88 For Barth, it is connected with revelation as ‘in the knowledge of sin we have to do basically and in general with a specific variation of the knowledge of God, of God as He has mediated Himself to man, and therefore of the knowledge of revelation and faith.’89 This subsection will therefore speak to some of the characteristics of Barth’s doctrine of sin. While it might seem a secondary issue in our overall endeavour, this step is also necessary in preparation for Barth’s doctrine of election, as ‘we can speak of a real triumph only CD III/2, p. 264; KD III/2, p. 317. Speaking about sin here also provides a link to Chapter 4. Hans Küng’s work on Barth’s doctrine of justification deserves an appreciative acknowledgement here, as it posits the question ‘Justification: What is the central problem?’ before the discussion of justification and election. (H. Küng, Justification – The Doctrine of Karl Barth and a Catholic Reflection (with a new introduction by Hans Küng and a response by Karl Barth; trans. Thomas Collins, Edmund E. Tolk, and David Granskou; London: Burns & Oates, 1981). See particularly the section on pp. 6–8.  89 CD IV/1, p. 359; KD IV/1, p. 397.  87  88



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when there is a reality, a power, an enemy to be overcome.’90 In other words, it seems appropriate to glance at least briefly at the reality of the obstacle to salvation. It will also further clarify the question raised by the engagement with Wingren in Chapter 1 (pp. 17–21) regarding the accusation that ‘there is in Barth’s theology no active power of sin.’91 A useful starting point as previously in Chapter 1 on Barth’s doctrine of revelation is again the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion. For Barth, sin is the ‘decisive turning point (entscheidende Wendung) in the theological understanding of humankind.’92 Barth immediately addresses the question of the proper place of a doctrine of sin in theology that we just mentioned, particularly in the context of theological anthropology: ‘for theological anthropology to remain theological and not become a historical or psychological anthropology, God must always remain the subject.’93 Certainly, it does mean that sin cannot play a primary role in strictly theological thought, yet human talk about God cannot avoid the human element in it: ‘as it confesses God the Church also confesses both the humanity and the responsibility of its action.’94 In this sense, the concept of human sin enters theological thought without superseding the sovereignty of God. Importantly, thus, people are fully responsible for their sin while at no point should they not be considered as being created by God. In sin, they are fully responsible for their own actions, ‘the human being is not a sinner insofar as regarded as God’s creature, image, covenant partner, but when considered as person acting in their own freedom in the light of this relationship.’95 How then can we understand sin theologically? For Barth, sin at its core is ‘dis-loyalty, dis-belief, dis-obedience,’ i.e. the very antithesis of God’s purpose for humankind, a denial of the image of God, the ‘negation of what the human being is in God’s truth.’96 The argument that all Gerrit Cornelis Berkouwer, The Triumph of Grace in the Theology of Karl Barth (trans. Harry R. Boer; London: Paternoster, 1956), p. 80. As argued in Chapter 1, Barth rejected the term ‘triumph’ as overarching principle of his dogmatics, yet it seems feasible to assume that he would have agreed with this more focused statement here.  91 Wingren, Theology in Conflict, p. 25.  92 Unterricht II, p. 399.  93 Ibid.  94 CD I/1, p. 3; KD I/1, p. 1.  95 Unterricht II, p. 403.  96 Unterricht II, p. 409. The threefold separation of the prefix dis- (emphasis on the Un- in German original) in the first part of the quote is done intentionally because the ‘full emphasis on this syllable is the clearest indication of the character of sin’ (ibid.).  90

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human activity is sin can thereby only be made a posteriori, i.e. after it is taken into account that people are addressed by God and it is thus that God’s call to humanity is never unqualified: ‘You, my fallen creature; you, my lost child; you, my unfaithful people.’97 We are reminded here of the covenantal language employed when speaking about the divine initiative to the relationship between God and the human being.98 Barth subsequently moves to a twofold distinction of the character of sin. On the one hand, sin is an action (Tat), and the preceding paragraphs have already spoken to some of the characteristics of this action. This sin, active in the human activity is every action against God’s purpose, the human breaking of the covenant with God. In that sense, it leads to God’s wrath, a quality that cannot be derived from God’s character just as sin cannot be encompassed by God’s character.99 Instead, sin as action is only superseded by God’s grace, ‘so serious, so grave is the guilt of sin that it is only the upheld, the renewed covenant-faithfulness, i.e. God’s grace, which can measure up with sin, and abolish and cross it out.’100 On the other hand, sin is also part of the nature (Natur) of the human being. Any sin understood as action reflects the fact that it is part of human nature to sin and to continue to do so, tracing it back to the Fall in Genesis 3. A balance is necessary between the Pelagian understanding of the Fall as just a ‘bad example’ and the opposing extreme of understanding it as ‘substance’ of the human being. Barth concludes his discussion of sin by asserting that sin is the ‘threefold negations of the covenantability, of the image of God and the creatureliness,’101 i.e. the negation of the three aspects that were central to Barth’s initial development of theological anthropology. If one turns to Church Dogmatics, one discovers parallels to this approach and further explorations along these same lines. It seems hardly surprising that sin is not a major topic in the prolegomena, and sin has also no place in the development of a Trinitarian doctrine. For our purpose, sin becomes an issue for the first time in the context of revelation. Interestingly, Barth now seems to have found a way to incorporate God’s sovereignty into his reflection on sin. Unterricht II, p. 404. For the reference to the corresponding covenantal language, see n. 48.  99 See Unterricht II, pp. 413–14. 100 Unterricht II, p. 414. 101 Unterricht II, p. 434.  97  98



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This needs some further explanation: Sin becomes an issue in the context of the broader consideration on the time of revelation and Barth argues that the New Testament Scriptures are in some sense only a continuation of the Old Testament material as they speak of those who have decidedly turned against God. ‘How can it be,’ Barth asks, ‘in view of the New Testament’s central view of the cross of Christ, in which the early Christian community saw involved the mystery of man’s sin against God and the mystery of the execution of God’s punishment upon sinful man – and saw involved in both mysteries the hiddenness of God in its completed reality?’102 The crucifixion becomes a direct sin against God in its pivotal form, and ‘the accusation and threat are directed against all men.’103 God is active in this context by the claim that the cross makes upon humankind: ‘The fearful statement that “God hath concluded all under disobedience” derives its importance and gravity from its sequel, “that he might have mercy upon all.” In the New Testament the hiddenness of God is recognised to be so profound and comprehensive, because here it does not stand alone but has a perfectly direct, concrete Beyond, because here it is limited, yet in this very limitation is also illumined and verified by God’s revelation.’104 Therefore, while sin remains the action and nature of human beings, God, through God’s grace, now becomes the subject that defeats sin. Sin is humanity’s attempt to become the subjects themselves; in this sense, ‘sin is always unbelief. And unbelief is always man’s faith in himself. And this faith invariably consists in the fact that man makes the mystery of his responsibility his own mystery, instead of accepting it as the mystery of God.’105 Sin has thus to be understood in the light of God’s grace and it is only possible to recognize the full extent of sin against that background. Consequently, it is in this sense that sin has to and should be interpreted in the light of revelation. This does not mean that revelation replaces Barth’s argument for forgiveness of sin,106 but it becomes apparent that without the revelation of Jesus Christ, the seriousness of sin cannot be grasped, ‘however serious this antithesis, however intolerable the actuality of sin, it can be CD I/2, p. 109; KD I/2, p. 120. CD I/2, p. 110; KD I/2, p. 121. 104 CD I/2, p. 110; KD I/2, pp. 121–22. The internal quote is Rom. 11.32, which Barth had quoted in the previous paragraph. 105 CD I/2, p. 314; KD I/2, p. 343. 106 See once more the accusation by Wingren, Theology in Conflict, pp. 28–29. 102 103

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measured only by the fact that in the existence of Jesus Christ God took to Himself (zu seiner eigenen Sache macht) the fulfilment of His judgement of wrath upon it.’107 According to Barth, the Gospel – in the true sense of the word as ‘Good News’ – becomes that the dreadfulness of this sin has always to be seen against the mercy of God, which has conquered it once and for all. It is thus not surprising to note that Barth discusses his doctrine of sin in Church Dogmatics within the doctrine of reconciliation – if sin can only be recognized in the light of the cross, this is the only logical consequence of this approach. Can one speak of a concept of ‘universal sin’? Positively, one would need to affirm that Barth considers sin as such as ‘absolutely impossible,’ common to all of humanity and it is ‘that which is absurd, man’s absurd choice and decision for that which is not, described in the Genesis story as his hearkening to the voice of the serpent, the beast of chaos. Sin exists only in this absurd event.’108 Sin is therefore a fact without being a reality – an impossibility that has to be taken as such. Just as in the context of religion which we saw in Chapter 2, Barth reacts here also against Neo-Protestantism, which had argued that ‘the grace of God and the sin of man must be approached as states on the one level, in a relationship which – if it has been disturbed – cannot be really jeopardised or broken, and therefore at bottom does not have to be renewed. Sin must be seen as a possible element in this relationship, not altogether unprofitable, indeed in its way indispensable.’109 It seems self-evident that Barth sees himself unable to support a thesis that puts anything on the same level as God. Sin is absurd, and as Barth would say at a much later stage, ‘sin and evil have an ontological being of their very peculiar own kind. A kind of being which can only be described in purely negative terms. As, for example, I should say sin and evil, and the devil himself, are impossible possibilities.’110 The problem arises thus as to where to place sin – if it is not to be rooted in God, will it have to be linked with human beings, i.e. do human beings have the freedom to sin? Again, Barth denies this as a possibility; he would even argue that it is not the right question to ask. The absurdity of sin lies precisely in the fact that CD IV/1, p. 411; KD IV/1, p. 455. CD IV/1, p. 410; KD IV/1, p. 454. 109 CD IV/1, p. 373; KD IV/1, p. 413. Barth gives, in continuation of this quote, a critical summary of the understanding of sin in Neo-Protestantism, see CD IV/1, pp. 373–87; KD IV/1, pp. 413–27. 110 Barth, ‘Podiumsdiskussion in Chicago,’ p.  475. The quote follows the original English of the discussion. 107 108



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freedom and sin cannot be mentioned in the same sentence. This is not to deny that sin exists and is very real, indeed; however, sin has nothing to do with freedom. We are reminded that Barth had defined human freedom at one point in the following way: ‘Christian freedom is really the freedom of the confession of Jesus Christ as the one and only Prophet, light of life, and Word of God.’111 The human being does not live truly free until he or she has accepted God’s grace: ‘God does not ask of man that he should be something different, but simply that he should be what he is, the man who is loved by Him, that he should freely confess himself the one to whom God has already freely addressed Himself.’112 In this sense, we can relate back to the first part of Barth’s theological anthropology, where we saw that the human being is created in the image of God. One is thus left with a certain degree of puzzlement: All of humanity is under sin, yet the full degree of this sin is only recognized against the backdrop of God’s grace, most clearly revealed in the cross of Jesus Christ. Therefore, we have come to a crucial point in the examination of sin – the possibility of non-salvation (especially in the light of the doctrine of election and universalism in Barth, which will be discussed in Chapter 4). Barth argues for the possibility of the wrath of God: When man is too proud to be the one who is loved by God, not confessing in humility the God who elects him and is gracious to him, then the guilt which he contracts means that he has placed himself under the divine judgement, under the burden of the No of God which corresponds to His Yes. He has contradicted the good will of God for him, and therefore he has to bear the fact that the same good will of God now contradicts him. This contradiction of arrogantly contradicting man by the good will of God is the wrath of God. To put it in fundamental and general terms, it is the unwillingness of God for everything that He did not and does not and will not will – the world of chaos, that which is not.113

As seems clear, this has to be read in the context of election, a topic to which we turn in Chapter 4. Yet, for the moment, we conclude: Sin is a brute fact that has marred humanity. Against God’s perfect grace and goodness, there seems CD IV/3.1, p. 90; KD IV/3, p. 99. CD IV/1, p. 488; KD IV/1, p. 543. CD IV/1, p. 489; KD IV/1, pp. 544–45.

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to be nothing that expresses the gravity of this rebellion, and exactly against this rebellion, ‘The Word of God – and the atoning work of Jesus Christ as the Representative of man, of the whole man – brings against man the accusation that at the very core of his being – the heart, as the Bible puts it – he is not good but evil, not upright but corrupt, not humble but proud in one or other of the forms known to us, wanting to be God and Lord and the judge of good and evil, and his own helper, and therefore hating God and his neighbour.’114 This does not contradict the more positive view of the human being from Barth’s theological anthropology. The pairing of a positive and a negative view of the human being can be explained in this context as follows: We all are responsible for our sin, both in the sense of it being action and our sinful nature. Sin, however, will never be able to overtake grace: ‘it is for such creatures who keep on becoming guilty of this impossible possibility and are responsible for this – for creatures like these, God has taken their place in Jesus Christ.’115 The task, from the perspective of the Christian – who is never free from unbelief and sin – is to engage with the unbeliever by the proclamation of the Good News that they are also loved by God, and that it does not have to be a life in nothingness and unbelief: ‘This is the only real possible way that one can think at all about unbelievers. Because it is in this way that God also thinks about us so-called believers, and it is in this way only that we can think about ourselves. We have to sit down next to the unbeliever in the dock (aufs Sünderbänkchen), and then we can also talk to them; we are just as embarrassed, but we also have the same hope.’116

Conclusion This chapter has served a number of purposes in the overall endeavour to answer the question of what it means to be a human being: First, we delineated a number of core characteristics of Barth’s understanding of the human being. These can be summarized by pointing to the interrelated aspects of the CD IV/1, pp. 494–95; KD IV/1, p. 551. Karl Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Göttinger Studenten,’ in Gespräche 1963 (GA IV.41) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), pp. 121–61 (147). 116 Ibid., p. 148. 114 115



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human being’s bearing of the image of God, and the human being as a being in relationship. Central to Barth’s theological anthropology in these points is the formulation of the thoughts on the human being based on the person of Jesus Christ. By continuous emphasis on Jesus Christ, Barth maintains the Christological focus that we have already seen in earlier chapters and that will find its culmination in the next chapter when turning to the doctrine of election. Secondly, we have established some of the core characteristics of the doctrine of sin, which is important to outline, particularly in preparation for the doctrine of election. Barth establishes the understanding of the impossible possibility of sin, while not denying the existence of sin as both nature and action, which will influence the way he will understand human freedom. Overall, we conclude that Barth considers the human being in the light of Jesus Christ, independent from the individual’s gender, race, or religion.

4

Barth’s Doctrine of Election– The Electing God and the Elected Human Being

In this chapter, we will draw together some conclusions from Chapters 1 to 3, framing them in the discussion of election. For this purpose, the chapter will be divided into three main parts: We will start by giving an overview of the characteristics of Barth’s doctrine of election (pp. 114–30). This will be followed by a critical discussion of the doctrine, particularly on human freedom and universalism (pp. 130–42). The third and final part (pp. 142–43) will bring together some conclusions of this and the three preceding chapters. Our study will thereby offer a fresh reading of the primary texts, also underlining some of the problems in the English translations of Barth’s works. While recent works have offered studies of Barth’s doctrine of election and also linked them to universalism,1 our approach here will be different in the following ways: First, it sets election against the background of Barth’s theological anthropology and particularly his doctrine of sin and tries to connect the two,2 which is very often taken as an implicit precondition when examining the doctrine of election. Secondly, it will give a holistic reading of the development of the doctrine in Barth’s writings; however, it will not limit itself to Church Dogmatics, as it will also turn to the writings and conversations before and after the volumes of Church Dogmatics. Thirdly, and finally, a new perspective that does justice to some of the problems and tensions within See primarily Greggs, Barth, Origen, and Universal Salvation. While this is no attempt to resolve the ‘theological version of the question whether it is the chicken or the egg that comes first,’ (David H. Kelsey, Eccentric Existence – A Theological Anthropology [Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009], p. 1036), I am in this chapter returning to God, having started in Chapter 1 with God’s act of revelation. Chapters 1 and 4 are thus providing the framework for the human concern of religion (Chapter 2) and the theological anthropology of Chapter 3.

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Barth’s doctrinal work as a whole will be given, so as to advance the implications for the development of a Christian theology of religions.

Approaching the doctrine of election After our discussion of Barth’s theological anthropology in Chapter 3 and a reflection on the doctrine of sin, we have now arrived at Barth’s doctrine of election, and therefore at the point which can be considered as one of the most important questions regarding the issue of universalism, as well as the further development of a theology of religions.3 The topic now becomes: In the light of the complexity of revelation and against the impossible possibility of sin, who can be saved in Barth’s doctrinal thought? The remainder of this chapter will tackle some of the issues linked to this. A proper starting point seems to ask what exactly Barth means by salvation. Colin Gunton, discussing salvation in Barth, offers the following helpful starting point: ‘Once one has moved beyond its etymological connotations of health and safety – those two modern substitutes for religion – it is evident that “salvation” is in central respects an eschatological concept, involving safe and final arrival at one’s intended destination.’4 Salvation, thus, implies a strongly eschatological dimension, including the question of what happens to the human person after death. This, taken together with the well-known fact that Barth’s Church Dogmatics lack the final part dealing with eschatology, one is faced with a certain challenge whether a full picture of election might be

This section is written in awareness of the scholarship that has dealt with Barth’s doctrine of election and the issues regarding universalism that it entails. Here, we are at first more interested in providing a fresh reading of Barth’s primary texts, and will only subsequently turn to some of the scholarship that has arisen in its context. See e.g. Berkouwer, Triumph of Grace, particularly Chapters 4 (pp.  89–122) and 10 (pp.  262–96); Colin Gunton, ‘Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election as part of his Doctrine of God,’ Journal of Theological Studies 25:2 (October 1974), pp.  381–92; Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth, particularly pp. 103–51; Bruce McCormack, ‘Grace and Being: The Role of God’s Gracious Election in Karl Barth’s Theological Ontology,’ in John B. Webster (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp.  92–110; Michael O’Neil, ‘Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election,’ Evangelical Quarterly 76 (2004), pp. 311–26, and the subsequent response by Oliver D. Crisp, ‘On the Letter and Spirit of Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election: A Reply to O’Neil,’ Evangelical Quarterly 79 (2007), pp. 53–67.   4 Colin Gunton, ‘Salvation,’ in John B. Webster (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 143–58 (144).   3



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constructed.5 Nonetheless, Barth’s doctrine of election as available to us today offers some helpful traits that will be outlined in the following paragraphs.

The doctrine of election in Barth’s early writings It seem reasonable to argue that Barth did not ‘discover’ election with the publication of Church Dogmatics II/2, but rather that the thought on the subject was shaped and formed leading up to the publication of this volume. We are therefore first approaching the theme of election from Barth’s earlier writings.6 Before turning to the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion, we are required, in keeping with an overall chronological representation, to examine some of Barth’s earlier writings. For the question of a view on election, the commentary on the book of Ephesians provides helpful insights on Barth’s early point of view.7 In the exegesis of Ephesians 1, Barth turns in the section on vv. 3–14 to Paul’s description of the process of election.8 Barth is aware that some interpretations of election do not do justice to the original text: ‘All these exegeses, not even that of Calvin is a complete exception, suffer from having their origin in an anthropological interest.’9 Barth argues, in the light of the biblical text, for a reinterpretation of election: ‘For him [Paul], the statement: God elects!, is primarily a statement about God, yes, a statement about God’s To this end, we will also rely on some of Barth’s conversations on his doctrine of election, particularly the conversation from the year 1966: Barth, ‘Gespräch mit einer “Barth Arbeitsgemeinschaft,” ’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 264–94.   6 For an examination of the pneumatological dimension of election, see Suzanne McDonald, Re-Imagining Election – Divine Election as Representing God to Others and Others to God (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm B. Eerdmans, 2010), especially Chapters 2 and 3. McDonald compares the doctrines of election in John Owen and Karl Barth, yet does not examine the Commentary on the Letter to the Ephesians to which we turn here. We will return to this study as appropriate.   7 Compare in the following Ross McGowan Wright, ‘Karl Barth’s Academic Lectures on Ephesians, Göttingen, 1921–1922, An Original Translation, Annotation, and Analysis’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis; University of St Andrews, 2006). McGowan Wright worked on the original manuscript in the Barth-Archives in Basel, rather than the subsequently published volume in the GA. The passage that we are interested in here shows some translation problems, e.g. the decision to translate ‘erwählen’ as ‘to choose.’ This is not to diminish McGowan Wright’s contribution to scholarship, yet for consistency within this chapter, all translations in this section are my own.   8 See Epheserbrief, p. 76 for the original text from which Barth works. An English translation of this passage is: ‘(3) Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places,  (4)  just as he chose us in Christ  before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. (5) He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, (6) to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved’ (NRSV).   9 Epheserbrief, p. 95. ‘All of these’ refers to adherents to Neo-Protestantism such as Ritschl or Beck.   5

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relation to the human being, but stressing that it is about God’s relation to the human being.’10 Therefore, Barth is critical of Calvin’s doctrine of predestination, as Paul’s ‘interest is focussed on the double predestination of human beings in God, not on the double predestination of human beings.’11 Barth’s first conclusion is that ‘the importance of ἐκλἐγεσθαι lies in the fact that God is recognized therein, in God’s unfathomable freedom, sovereignty and majesty. God elects, only God, God Himself and God alone.’12 With foresight to later developments in the doctrine of election, one further comment has to be made here regarding the object of election: ‘ἐν αὐτω in Christ, God has elected us, he [Paul] says. Who is this αὐτóς, Christ, in this context? Obviously, the grasp with which God lays His hand on a human being, of course not on every human being, but after His election on a specific human; not for the sake of this or that human characteristic on this or that human being, but after His election of this specific human being; not on this or that given circle of people, on these or those human beings in their corporate characteristics, thus, but again: after His election on this specific man in His complete particularity and singularity.’13 After the initial outline of Barth’s approach to election, we now turn to the Unterricht in der christlichen Religion, which provides once more a useful signpost of Barth’s thought. It is here where Barth first develops a ‘doctrinal’ approach to election, which is in this case ‘a necessary consequence arising out of an analysis of the situation of revelation.’14 We are reminded of the tension that Barth established as part of his doctrine of revelation between God’s veiling and unveiling, and Barth introduces his doctrine of election as follows: ‘If veiling is the content of God’s unveiling and unveiling the point of his veiling, we are obviously set under a twofold possibility grounded in Epheserbrief, p. 96. Ibid.  12 Epheserbrief, pp. 96–97.  13 Epheserbrief, pp.  97–98. Semicolons have been added for reasons of readability; the German original is a run-on sentence. The phrase ‘particularity and singularity’ is used here to translate ‘Einzelnheit und Einsamkeit.’ McGowan Wright suggests ‘isolation and uniqueness,’ arguing the following: ‘“Einsamkeit” suggests isolation and solitude. Barth’s meaning is clarified by noting how he uses a similar word, “Isoliertheit” to speak of God’s complete majesty and freedom: “God speaks – and as we say this, we must always hear God in his superiority, his majesty and freedom, in his isolatedness as God”’ RC, p. 56; RB, p. 91. It is notable that here, he applies the same term to Jesus Christ as he does to humanity, a move which is consistent with his concern to show the relation between divine and human existence (McGowan Wright, ‘Ephesians,’ p. 57, n. 67).  14 McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, p. 371.  10  11



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God himself. The hiddenness of God in his revelation might mean that with hearing ears we hear only offense or foolishness or nothing at all and therefore do not know God.’15 Barth defends the placement of the doctrine of election within the doctrine of God as follows: ‘The Reformed order which puts it here before the doctrine of creation tells us that the first and decisive thing that we have to know and say about the God who acts concretely is that we with our faith and unbelief are in his hands and power. In us and our relation to the Word it must be demonstrated what it means that God’s will is a Therefore! (Darum!) that brooks no Wherefore? (Warum?)’16 The twofold possibility of election is now related to revelation: ‘It might mean that here revelation is hidden, and it might mean that here revelation is hidden. In the first case the concealment is a great hindrance which makes the knowledge of revelation impossible. In the second case it is a gracious dispensation of God which makes such knowledge possible for us.’17 There is therefore a ‘shadow side of election: reprobation,’18 and Barth’s point of entry here is the definition given by Martin Heidegger.19 Barth immediately distances himself from the idea that the reprobate or the elect refer to a specific group. Instead, he suggests a simultaneity of election: ‘Naturally, specific people are catastrophically affected by the divine electing and rejecting, yet not some people as only elect and some as only rejected, but both as both.’20 In the light of revelation, there is the twofold possibility: To accept it as such in faith, or to reject it in sin: ‘sin is the cause of ruin, not God.’21 If revelation is the turning point, then the act of election and reprobation will have to be interpreted against God’s character: ‘when God is known, even though it be in judgement, then he is known totally, and therefore also in his grace. When the divine No to us is truly heard, then it is broken through by the divine Yes, whose shell it is. Grace is not in itself the reverse GD p. 440; Unterricht II, p. 166. GD, pp. 444–45; Unterricht II, p. 172. GD, p. 447; Unterricht II, p. 175.  18 GD, p. 451, and the subsequent section, pp. 451–66; Unterricht II, p. 181, and pp. 181–200.  19 ‘Reprobation is the decree of God, by which out of the mere good pleasure of His will he has resolved to leave fixed men, whom He does not elect, in the mass of corruption and piling up sins on sins and, when they have been hardened by His just judgement, to visit them with eternal punishments, in order to display the glory of His righteousness’ GD, p. 453; see Unterricht II, pp. 182–83, which gives the Latin as well as the German text.  20 GD, p. 454; Unterricht II, p. 184.  21 GD, p. 459; Unterricht II, pp. 190–91.  15  16  17

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side of judgement. But God’s grace is the reverse side of God’s judgement, we must say.’22 Finally, this revelation as basis of election will always have to be understood in the light of Jesus Christ: ‘In this teleology of God that is revealed in Christ (we must stress all three words) there is the source of our certainty of election and salvation. Thus again, not in ourselves, not in an abstract idea of God, but in God’s revelation, and there most certainly, we too, as we look there, can and should be most certain.’23

The doctrine of election in Church Dogmatics The emphasis on the Christological dimension of both revelation and election, which we have just stressed, provides a bridge to the doctrine of election24 in Church Dogmatics.25 Here, it is unquestionable that Barth understands the doctrine of election, ‘the sum of the Gospel,’26 unrestrictedly in a Christological way: ‘of all words that can be said or heard it is the best: that God elects man; that God is for man too the One who loves in freedom. It is grounded in the knowledge of Jesus Christ because He is both the electing God and elected man in One.’27 We will follow the outline of the doctrine as it is done by Barth in §§32–35 of Church Dogmatics, speaking first to some characteristics of election (§32), then moving to the election of Jesus Christ (§33), followed by the election of the community (§34), and finishing with some remarks on the election of the individual (§35).28 It has to be emphasized again at this stage that the doctrine of election is examined within the doctrine of God, a point to which we will return in due course. First, one has to note the position of the doctrine within Church Dogmatics and the way it is constructed. From an early stage, one notes that Barth is aware of the possible criticisms: ‘Is it really the case,’ Barth asks, ‘that the doctrine of GD, pp. 464–65; Unterricht II, pp. 198–99. GD, p. 471; Unterricht II, p. 207.  24 Throughout this section and in line with Barth’s argument, election and predestination are to be seen as synonymous.  25 For an engagement with the relation of GD and the early volumes of CD with regard to the election, see Suzanne McDonald, ‘Barth’s “Other” Doctrine of Election in the Church Dogmatics,’ International Journal of Systematic Theology 9:2 (April 2007), pp. 134–47.  26 Barth’s emphasis on the doctrine of election being the ‘sum of the Gospel’ is repeated throughout §32 a total of nine times (CD II/2, p. 3; p. 10; p. 12; p. 13; p. 24; p. 34; p. 63; p. 72 as well as the corresponding KD II/2, p. 1; p. 9; p. 11; p. 13; p. 25; p. 35; p. 67; p. 78; p. 98).  27 CD II/2, p. 3; KD II/2, p. 1.  28 Appropriate reference will of course be made to sources outside this unit.  22  23



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election forms a part of the definition of the Subject of all Christian doctrine? May we and must we deal with it before we deal even with the creation of the world and of man, or before we deal with the work of reconciliation and the end of that work in eternal redemption?’29 Barth answers the question affirmatively. For him, all doctrinal statements depend at the core on God’s action of electing: ‘There can be no Christian truth which does not from the very first contain within itself as its basis the fact that from and to all eternity God is the electing God. There can be no tenet of Christian doctrine which if it is to be a Christian tenet does not necessarily reflect both in form and content this divine electing – the eternal electing in which and in virtue of which God does not will to be God, and is not God, apart from those who are His, apart from His people. Because this is the case, the doctrine of election occupies a place at the head of all other Christian dogmas.’30 One is thus reminded of Barth’s primal interest in God’s sovereignty, an aspect that we have already encountered in Chapter 1 – the overarching subject of revelation, as well as election, is God. This claim is further substantiated by the overall structure of the paragraph: Barth moves, after some preliminary remarks on the nature of election, first to the election of Jesus Christ, then to the election of the community and lastly to the election of the individual. The reasons for this will be examined further below.31 Barth begins with the directionality of election: It seems hardly surprising that God is the subject of election, i.e. it speaks to God’s movement towards humanity. More precisely, though, God as subject can only be described when pointing to the name of Jesus Christ: ‘Jesus Christ is indeed God in His movement towards man, or, more exactly, in His movement towards the

CD II/2, p. 76; KD II/2, p. 82. CD II/2, p. 77; KD II/2, p. 82.  31 Regarding the structure of the chapter and this order, Barth says later in the context of the election of the individual: ‘The question of the order of treatment of the individual areas of the problem is not of fundamental importance. The selection of this particular order assists the clarification of the antithesis. It would also have been much more difficult to execute and bring out the correction which is necessary in this respect if in agreement with tradition we had begun at the point where we now end. But it cannot be denied that a reversal of the order is intrinsically possible. Indeed, once the correction has been made, it might even be advisable. Following tradition, we could then begin with the election of the individual, proceed in continually ascending circles to the election of Israel and the Church, and conclude with the election of Jesus Christ. The only correction which is basically important is the recognition that the election of the individual must be discussed in the closest possible relation to the election of Jesus Christ and the election of the community of God’ (CD II/2, p. 309; KD II/2, p. 340).  29  30

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people represented in the one man Jesus of Nazareth, in His covenant with this people, in His being and activity amongst and towards this people. Jesus Christ is the decision of God in favour of this attitude or relation.’32 The idea of the covenant between God and humanity deserves in this context particular attention. God’s covenant with humanity will later form the basis of the doctrine of reconciliation: ‘Jesus Christ is God, God as man, and therefore “God with us” men, God in the work of reconciliation. But reconciliation is the fulfilment of the covenant between God and man.’33 Barth traces the concept throughout the biblical witness and arrives at the event of Jesus Christ. ‘Even in this particular form it is the accomplishment of His covenant will. Even more, it is the affirmation and consummation of the institution of the covenant between Himself and man which took place in and with the creation. It is this covenant will which is carried out in Jesus Christ.’34 Election thus becomes God’s action upon humanity. While this justifies Barth’s positioning of the doctrine of election within his doctrine of God, it raises at the same time the question of human freedom and participation, just as in the case of the doctrine of revelation in Chapter 1. While we return to this in more detail below,35 it needs to be emphasized that again just as in the case of the doctrine of revelation we will find a similar pattern here with election. This means that while the act of electing is something done by God (extra nos), it carries with it implications that occur for us as human beings (pro nobis), and will be of ongoing significance – be it visible or not – in us (in nobis).36 How this develops in the context of election will be examined throughout the remainder of this chapter. We have just mentioned in passing that it is not just any election; it is Gnadenwahl, i.e. an election intrinsically linked to grace.37 For Barth, this implies two things. On the one hand, and more importantly, this implies CD II/2, p. 7; KD II/2, pp. 5–6. CD IV/1, p. 22; KD IV/1, p. 22.  34 CD IV/1, p. 36; KD IV/1, p. 37.  35 We will return to the subject of human participation, and more specifically, the question of human freedom in more detail below, pp. 138–41.  36 For the explanation of the terminology used here, see also Chapter 1, pp. 21–24.  37 The German term Gnadenwahl, ‘election of grace,’ is different from Erwählung, ‘election.’ This differentiation is lost in the English translation. ‘Doctrine of election’ is used to translate ‘Erwählungslehre.’ The English slightly loses the passive sense of the German ‘Erwählung,’ as well as the fact that it is something being done, rather than a static fact. A more appropriate – although slightly wooden – way to express the idea would be ‘doctrine of being elected.’ We will turn to this below.  32  33



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grace: ‘In showing His grace, God proves Himself both Saviour and Helper. He does so freely as the Lord. But this exercise of lordship is kind as well as good, communicating and sharing its goods.’38 It is in this sense that the Good News of the Gospel can be summarized in the term Gnadenwahl. On the other hand, this implies the act of election, and this act ‘cannot and should not alter this fact [of grace] in the least. Election should serve at once to emphasise and explain what we have already said in the word grace.’39 One needs to pause for a moment and grasp the key features of the starting point of the doctrine: First, God remains supremely subject in the election. This should not be taken light-heartedly: If the subject and starting point of election is God, and it is part of the doctrine of God, it seems feasible to assume that Barth argues within his exposition for attributes linked to God, and only secondarily about what this entails for humanity. We have to remember here that within the context of Church Dogmatics, the doctrine of election is part of the doctrine of God. Furthermore, one is reminded of the doctrine of revelation and the emphasis that we outlined there on God being both subject and object. Concurrently, Barth’s argument within the doctrine of election suggests a primacy of the ‘who’ over the ‘whom’ question: This is a section describing the character of God and what God is doing in his creation. This view is not only supported by the overall sequence of §§32–35 of Church Dogmatics (the election of Jesus, followed by the election of the Church, followed by the election of the individual), it is also part of the linguistic differentiation between God’s Gnadenwahl and the doctrine of Erwählung. Barth argues: It [God’s decision of electing] belongs to the reality of God which is a reality not apart from but in this decision. It is so adjoined to this reality that we must not allow any objectivity of logic to prevent us from introducing the adjunct as an element in our knowledge of God. 40

In our discussion of universalism below on pages 130–38, this passage will become important when discussing the inherent logic and coherence of Barth’s doctrine of election. At this point, it shall suffice to say that Barth, CD II/2, p. 10; KD II/2, p. 9. Ibid. CD II/2, pp. 6–7, rev.; KD II/2, p. 5.

 38  39  40

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while not leaving behind an objective human logic in his theological approach to election, nonetheless introduces it as a secondary element to God’s action. Election is ‘an act of divine sovereignty (göttlicher Souveränitätsakt),’41 an action undertaken in perfect freedom, and ‘it is not as though the object of this relationship, the other, constitutes a part of the reality of God outside of God.’42 We cannot speak correctly of God in His being in and for Himself without considering Him always in this attitude, without allowing both our questions and answers to be dictated by it. We cannot speak accurately or confidently of the work of God unless first we see clearly that the attitude which God has taken up, and by which His work is determined, belongs to God Himself, and cannot in any way be isolated from Him. For that reason, the question of this attitude must be raised specifically and independently within the framework of the doctrine of God.43

Secondly, the starting point of grace deserves attention. On the one hand, this stresses yet again that God is the subject of the process of election. On the other hand, though, it emphasizes that grace is the determining factor in this process. Therefore, Barth emphasizes that Gnadenwahl is primarily about grace (Gnade), and everything that can be said about election (Wahl) ‘cannot and should not alter this fact in the least.’44 It is clear therefore that this grace is a way, if not the way, that God’s love manifests itself. There is a deep sense that the election occurring extra nos does have ramifications pro nobis, and will have an impact also in nobis: It is love in the form of the deepest condescension. It occurs even where there is no question of claim or merit on the part of the other. It is love which is overflowing, free, unconstrained, unconditioned. And we must add at once: It is love which is merciful, making this movement, this act of condescension, in such a way that, in taking to itself this other, it identifies itself with its need, and meets its plight by making it its own concern. And we must add at once: It is love which is patient, not consuming this other, but giving it place, willing its existence for its own sake and for the sake of the goal appointed for it.45

CD II/2, p. 9; KD II/2, p. 8. CD II/2, p. 6; KD II/2, p. 4.  43 CD II/2, pp. 6–7; KD II/2, p. 5.  44 CD II/2, p. 10; KD II/2, p. 9.  45 CD II/2, p. 10; KD II/2, pp. 8–9, my emphasis.  41  42



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God’s act of gracious election is, at its core, positive – how else could it be the Good News of the Gospel? – and, in this sense, one should also interpret the doctrine of predestination, to which we turn now. If one considers everything that has been said so far regarding the doctrine of election, it seems hardly surprising that Barth sees the doctrine of predestination also as something positive. Certainly, ‘the Yes cannot be heard unless the No is also heard,’ i.e. predestination is not neutral; however, ‘the No is said for the sake of the Yes and not for its own sake.’46 Barth traces this inherently positive character of the doctrine of predestination critically throughout Church history. Pointing to important figures such as Augustine, Luther or Calvin,47 Barth points to the awareness of the inherent positive characteristic of predestination in these writers and is concerned that at an early stage already ‘the problem began to be obscured when the “book of life” came to be spoken of as though it had in it a death-column; when the divine election and the divine rejection came to be spoken of as inter-connected divine acts similar in character and determination; when they came to be regarded and understood as though they could both be grouped under the one over-ruling concept,’48 resulting in the rise of a ‘balance against the concept of the election of grace that of an election of wrath.’49 For Barth, this seems ludicrous, and it now becomes clear why he said that the character of his doctrine of election is that ‘I [Karl Barth] have had to leave the framework of theological tradition to a far greater extent than in the first part of the doctrine of God.’50 His criticism of the traditional doctrine of predestination is simple: ‘The balance [of an election of grace paired with an election of wrath] gives to the doctrine a neutrality which is almost scientific. It does not differentiate between the divine Yes and the divine No. It does not come down on the side of the divine Yes. On the very same level as the Yes it registers an equally definitive divine No concerning man. [How can that doctrine in that form avoid that the No will be heard much louder, and that this No will ultimately be the sole thing (allein) that is heard?]’51 What Barth has in mind here is the concern CD II/2, p. 13; KD II/2, p. 12. See CD II/2, pp. 14–18; KD II/2, pp. 13–18.  48 CD II/2, p. 16; KD II/2, p. 15.  49 CD II/2, p. 17; KD II/2, pp. 16–17.  50 CD II/2, p. x; KD II/2, p. vii.  51 CD II/2, p. 18, rev.; KD II/2, p. 17.  46  47

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that something is set next to the divine Yes at an equal level – this, in Barth’s understanding, cannot be. God’s decision to elect52 is not an arbitrary move, it is based solely on grace and therefore there can be no No coinciding with the divine Yes. An important insertion to our exposition has to be made at this point. Against the background of the emphasis on the divine Yes, one might very well classify Barth as universalist at this stage already, having just made a few observations about his starting point. However, is this really the case? I am maintaining that what sounds like universalism is in fact only the emphasis on the inherently ‘good’ character of the ‘Good’ News. All that Barth is saying here is that the Church’s primary task is not to proclaim divine judgement53 and co-ordinate a proclamation of hell and judgement with the proclamation of Jesus Christ, who suffered, died and rose again. Instead, the Good News is this divine Yes to Jesus Christ, and all of humanity. This is what Barth considers the content of Church proclamation. This is the Gospel. We will return to this in due course in ‘The question of universalism and human freedom’ (pp. 130–42). There are two main reasons that Barth gives for his departure from the Reformed doctrine of predestination. The first is that God’s object of election is primarily Jesus Christ, God the Son.54 We will return to this issue in more detail below when speaking about the election of Jesus Christ. The second and related issue is Barth’s argument against an approach that makes the act of election too tangible, i.e. basing it on human experience: ‘The divine electing (Erwählen) and human election (Erwähltsein) (and the negative counterpart of both) are thus understood in some sense as the ordaining of a private relationship between God and each individual man as such.’55 Barth does not deny the existence of such a private relationship between God and every individual. However, if it is the starting point of a doctrine, it does falsify the context of the act of election: ‘what election is and what it then really means for all human beings and for each one of these private relationships, could remain completely hidden from us with this perspective.’56 What election really is for Barth is the fact that ‘in the strict sense only He [Jesus Christ] can ‘Elect’ is intentionally left without direct object here. We will also return to this topic in the concluding Chapter 7.  54 See for a reference in the immediate context to this, CD II/2, pp. 42–43; KD II/2, p. 44.  55 CD II/2, p. 42; KD II/2, p. 43.  56 CD II/2, p. 44, rev.; KD II/2, p. 46.  52  53



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be understood and described as “elected” (and “rejected”). All others are so in Him, and not as individuals.’57 We will turn now to this topic.

The election of Jesus Christ The introductory sentence to §33, ‘The election of Jesus Christ,’ summarizes some of the most important issues with regard to the centrality of Jesus Christ: ‘The election of grace is the eternal beginning of all the ways and works of God in Jesus Christ. In Jesus Christ God in His free grace determines Himself for sinful man and sinful man for Himself. He therefore takes upon Himself the rejection of man with all its consequences, and elects man to participation in His own glory.’58 We can note that the directionality from above now takes its concrete shape. The election of Jesus Christ is the ‘eternal beginning’ (ewiger Anfang) of all of God’s actions in Jesus Christ. This means that this election has started before all time, and can rightly be understood as the primal decision (Urentscheidung),59 which forms the basis of election, indeed the basis of all of God’s actions, in its entirety.60 Here, this receives particular attention, because it means that Jesus Christ– being fully God and fully human – is at the same time the subject of election, i.e. the ‘electing one,’ as well as the object, i.e. the ‘elected one.’61 Barth justifies this interpretation through an exegesis of the first two verses of the Gospel of John62 and ‘as the subject and object of this choice, Jesus Christ was at the beginning.’63 The reinterpretation of the doctrine of predestination that Barth had defended at an earlier point is therefore accentuated as follows: ‘the name of Jesus Christ has within itself the double reference: the One called by this name is both very God and very man. Thus the simplest form of the dogma may be divided at once into the two assertions that Jesus Christ is the electing God, and that He is also elected man.’64 With the election of Jesus Christ, God achieves a twofold purpose and CD II/2, p. 43; KD II/2, p. 46. CD II/2, p. 94; KD II/2, p. 101. Here, a comparison with Schleiermacher’s theology is useful. For a comparison between the development of Barth’s doctrine of election and Schleiermacher, see the study by Matthias Gockel, Barth and Schleiermacher on the Doctrine of Election – A Systematic-Theological Comparison (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). For the discussion of Barth’s doctrine in CD, see pp. 164–95.  60 See e.g. CD II/2, p. 9; KD II/2, p. 8.  61 CD II/2, p. 94; KD II/2, p. 101.  62 See CD II/2, pp. 95–102; KD II/2, pp. 102–9. Compare also Johannes-Evangelium, pp. 22–35.  63 CD II/2, p. 102; KD II/2, p. 109.  64 CD II/2, p. 103; KD II/2, p. 110.  57  58  59

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one can speak of a praedestinatio gemina.65 On the one hand, God elects Godself in the person of God, the Son, Jesus Christ. On the other hand, God also elects the man Jesus Christ, and therefore God elects the rejection of man: ‘because the eternal divine predestination is identical with the election of Jesus Christ, its twofold content is that God wills to lose in order that man may gain.’66

The election of the community Subsequently, Barth moves in §34 to the election of the community (Gemeinde). In contrast to the election of Jesus Christ, this is an indirect election: ‘There is, then, no independent election of the community. Only Jewish or clerical phantasy and arrogance can try to exalt the community above Jesus Christ into the beginning of all things.’67 Indeed, Barth goes as far as calling this process of election, the ‘other’ election: ‘The community which has to be described in this way forms so to speak the inner circle of the “other” election which has taken place (and takes place) in and with the election of Jesus Christ.’68 The ‘inner circle’ is established in contrast to the ‘outer circle’ of all human beings, and for our present purpose, it is essential to note that ‘this outer circle … is in its turn nothing without the inner one; all the election that has taken place and takes place in Jesus Christ is mediated, conditioned (bedingt) and bounded (begrenzt) by the election of the community.’69 This entails a key qualification: ‘Included in the election of the community: in the community, by the community (and then at once also for the community as well!), these individuals are also elected in and with the election of Jesus Christ.’70 Barth CD II/2, p. 161; KD II/2, p. 176. CD II/2, p. 162; KD II/2, p. 177. CD II/2, p. 196; KD II/2, p. 216.  68 Ibid.  69 CD II/2, p. 197; KD II/2, p. 217. Note that the election in Jesus Christ is ‘bounded’ (begrenzt). This is a point which will be discussed further, see pp. 130–42. It also provides an interesting point of departure for the question of membership in this ‘community’ and will be discussed in relation to Rahner and the ‘anonymous Christian’ in Chapter 5, pp. 164–71. Compare particularly Karl Rahner, ‘Membership of the Church according to the teaching of Pius XII’s Encyclical “Mystici Corporis Christi”,’ TI 2, pp. 1–88.  70 CD II/2, p. 197, rev.; KD II/2, p. 217. The fact that Barth draws on the formula ‘Extra ecclesiam nulla salus!’ is remarkable and implies the desire for the election to have an impact on the human being. For Barth’s further engagement with the concept see CD I/2, pp.  203–79; KD I/2, pp.  222–304, particularly ‘whatever the case with the attitudes and actions of the men who participate in it, the Church is the congregation; subjective reality is the congregation. And extra ecclesiam nulla salus necessarily means: that by belonging to Christ we belong to all who belong to Him – not secondarily but a priori, not by the exercise of Christian virtue, but according to our nature, i.e., for Christ’s sake, and therefore not by accident or disposition or choice, but in the strictest possible sense, by necessity’ (CD I/2, p. 217; KD I/2, pp. 237–38).  65  66  67



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concludes, thus: ‘Extra ecclesiam nulla salus! This proposition belongs certainly in the doctrine of predestination, in the doctrine of God.’71 According to Barth, the elected community takes on a twofold form, Israel and the Church. They should be seen as complementary: ‘We cannot … call the Jews the “rejected” and the Church the “elected” community. The object of election is neither Israel for itself nor the Church for itself, but both together in their unity.’72 Against this assessment, the dynamics of the election of the community thereby encompass a set of dualities: First, Jesus Christ is the crucified Messiah of Israel, but He is also the resurrected Lord of the Church: ‘He is the promised son of Abraham and David, the Messiah of Israel. And He is simultaneously the Head and Lord of the Church, called and gathered from Jews and Gentiles. In both these characters He is indissolubly one.’73 This corresponds, secondly, to the twofold witness to the election of Jesus Christ through hearing the word (Israel), and to faith as the Church: ‘The elected community of God, as the environment of the elected man Jesus of Nazareth, is the place where God’s honour dwells, i.e., where this Jesus is revealed as God’s promise in person, where this Jesus is heard, where He is believed, where in Him and by Him it comes about, therefore, that God’s self-witness, the declaration of His good-will and work for man, finds a hearing and faith. The community is elected in relation to the whole world (as representatives of Jesus Christ and the deed of divine judgement and mercy accomplished in Him) in order to serve the divine promise that awaits the hearing and faith of man.’74 Thirdly, and finally, the community’s role is to proclaim the promise and fulfilment of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Thereby, Israel represents God’s decision to choose ‘for Himself what is not His due, what is not worthy of Him, the frailty of the flesh, suffering, dying, death, in order to take it away from man, in order to clothe man instead with His glory.’75 And, in a complementary fashion, the Church is asked to bear witness to the life to come: ‘the service of the Church as the perfect form of the one community CD II/2, p. 197, rev.; KD II/2, p. 217. See further on this above in the section on Barth’s doctrine of sin (Chapter 3, pp. 104–10) and the discussion of election and universalism (pp. 138–41).  72 CD II/2, p. 199; KD II/2, pp. 219–20.  73 CD II/2, p. 197; KD II/2, p. 218.  74 CD II/2, p. 233; KD II/2, p. 256.  75 CD II/2, pp. 260–61; KD II/2, p. 287.  71

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of God consists in attesting, by faith in the Word heard, by laying hold of the divine mercy, the coming kingdom of God as the end of all human need, the coming new man and his eternal life.’76 Barth supports these three theses with an in-depth exegesis of Paul’s Letter to the Romans, Chapters 9 to 11.77

The election of the individual Finally, Barth moves to the question of the election of the individual in §35. This election, to emphasize it once more, can only be considered in the light of the aspects of election already considered: ‘The witness of the community of God to every individual man consists in this: that this choice of the godless man is void; that he belongs eternally to Jesus Christ and therefore is not rejected, but elected by God in Jesus Christ; that the rejection which he deserves on account of his perverse choice is borne and cancelled by Jesus Christ; and that he is appointed to eternal life with God on the basis of the righteous, divine decision.’78 The fact it has to be considered in that light does, however, not mean that it is any less an action of election: ‘It is exactly because of the original election of Jesus Christ that the particula veri of “individualism,” so far from being eliminated, is given a lasting validity. This same is true of the election of the community.’79 Therefore, we have a complex set of interdependencies: Both the election of the community and the election of the individual need to be interpreted in the light of the election of Christ. Furthermore, the community has an impact on the election of the individual, yet ‘this fellowship does not lead any independent life in relation to its members. It lives in them. It does not rob those to whom it mediates the election of Jesus Christ. It, too, precedes them in all things, and yet it has all that it does have for them, and is all that it is only in them. The particula veri of “individualism” is not curtailed but genuinely assured and honoured when we understand the election of the “individual” as the telos of the election of the community.’80 A number of points that we have already encountered at an earlier stage are now re-emphasized: First, the primal decision to elect the human being: ‘The CD II/2, p. 264; KD II/2, p. 291. For reasons of brevity, this exegesis cannot be examined in any more detail than the three theses given in the text. See CD II/2, pp. 205–305; KD II/2, pp. 226–336.  78 CD II/2, p. 306; KD II/2, p. 336.  79 CD II/2, p. 310; KD II/2, p. 341.  80 CD II/2, p. 311; KD II/2, p. 341.  76  77



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elect, then, do not first become this either with reference to their person or in recognition of any attributes or achievements, or even through their divine calling. Their special calling simply discloses and confirms the fact that they already are the elect.’81 There are not only those who are elected, but there are also a number of people who are rejected. In contrast to the elect, ‘They do not possess the Holy Spirit. They do not stand in the area of proclamation and faith. They even refuse this whole offer with hostility. But their explicit or implicit godlessness is not the objectively necessary expression of a real mystery of human existence, as is the life of the elect. The godless life expresses no real mystery of human existence to which testimony can be given.’82 Comparably to sin, defined earlier as an ‘absurd event,’83 the existence of the rejected is contrary to the grace revealed in the election of Jesus Christ; and ‘by permitting the life of a rejected man to be the life of His own Son, God has made such a life objectively impossible for all others. The life of the uncalled, the godless, is a grasping back at this objective impossibility, an attempt to expose oneself again to the threat which has already been executed and consequently removed.’84 The real difference between those elected and those rejected is therefore as follows: ‘the former by witnessing in their lives to the truth, the latter by lying against the same truth. It ought to be clear that to this extent they belong together. [In the sphere of the divine election of grace, in the hand of the one God, under the reign whose beginning and principle is called Jesus Christ are the elect obviously, but the others are also to be found there].’85 The elected and the rejected are there to be seen as opposite to each other, yet because it is impossible to understand one without the other, they are also standing next to each other in the light of God’s election of Jesus Christ.86 Barth concludes his presentation of the election of the individual with two sections on the determination of the elected87 and the rejected.88 CD II/2, pp. 340–41; KD II/2, p. 375. CD II/2, p. 346; KD II/2, p. 381.  83 CD IV/1, p. 410; KD IV/1, p. 454.  84 CD II/2, p. 346; KD II/2, p. 381.  85 CD II/2, p. 346, rev.; KD II/2, p. 382.  86 See CD II/2, pp. 352–54; KD II/2, pp. 388–91.  87 See CD II/2, pp. 410–49; KD II/2, pp. 453–98.  88 See CD II/2, pp. 449–506; KD II/2, pp. 498–563.  81  82

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The question of universalism and human freedom We have now reached the point when we can ask: How does Barth’s doctrine of election relate to questions of universalism and human freedom? Here, we will give some insight into the ongoing discussions in this regard, coming to important conclusions for our overall theme of developing a theology of non-Christian religions.

Universalism Through tracing the development of the doctrine within the wider corpus of Barth’s writings, we have become aware of some of the changes and shifts. These can be summarized as follows: First, there is a strong element of continuity throughout regarding the concern with the anthropological turn when approaching the doctrine of election. To remedy this, Barth understands the doctrine of election as communicating primarily something about God, and only subsequently about human beings. Secondly, the emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit in revelation, which we saw in Chapter 1, as the ground of election is subsequently encompassed in the centrality of Jesus Christ.89 Thirdly, the later form of the doctrine of election in Church Dogmatics II/2 introduces with the ‘community’ an interim and mediating step between the election of Jesus Christ and the election of the individual. This is, as will be argued in the following section, an important element of Barth’s development. Let us now turn to our topic of universalism. In general, there seems to be no agreement regarding the question whether Barth’s doctrine of election entails universalism. Poignantly, Joseph D. Bettis asked in 1967, ‘Is Karl Barth a Universalist?,’90 which is only one of the multitude of articles that tried to answer the question. What should not be forgotten either is that the specifics of Barth’s doctrine of election are the topic of discussion in a multitude of This is not to say that revelation completely disappears; however, especially in CD II/2, it is contained within the election of Jesus Christ. See also McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, p.  328. McCormack argues for a turn from a ‘pneumatocentric’ focus to a more ‘Christological’ approach. While this is true, it is worthwhile emphasizing that the revelation of Christ is concerning all members of the Trinity, i.e. when speaking about Jesus Christ, one will not be able to avoid speaking about the Holy Spirit (see Chapter 1 on the Trinitarian dimension of revelation).  90 Joseph D. Bettis, ‘Is Karl Barth a Universalist?,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 20 (1967), pp. 423–36.  89



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conversations.91 This is to say that the question of universalism with which we are dealing here in Barth’s doctrine of election in and of itself is not completely new. Based on the exposition above, and drawing particularly on Barth’s conversations on this topic, I want to suggest an approach that is faithful to the development within the doctrine and the tensions that it displays. First, one has to say affirmatively that Barth’s doctrine of election seems to be pointing in a universalist direction. One is reminded that being rejected is not an option within Barth’s doctrine of election: ‘by permitting the life of a rejected man to be the life of His own Son, God has made such a life objectively impossible for all others.’92 Michael O’Neill, who maintains ‘that Barth cannot legitimately be accused of universalism, and that his doctrine of election does not guarantee the eternal salvation of all humanity,’93 centres on the proposition that the divine action of election still carries a demand for human responsibility: ‘in saying that all are not rejected but rather are elect, Barth means that they are elect to the promise of election.’94 Is this nuance correct? I would argue that this is not what Barth has in mind. For Barth, as shown in the quote above, every human being is elected in Christ and being rejected by God is not a possibility. Whether they realize it or not, everyone is elected in Christ – and not just for the promise of election. Even O’Neill has to conclude that ‘Barth asserts an objective universal reconciliation in the eternal union of God and humanity in Jesus Christ, actualised in the incarnation and atonement, with the result that none are rejected.’95 While this seems somewhat parallel to the infamous statement by Barth regarding universalism

I am at this stage only giving the reference to the conversations that are speaking directly to implications and consequences of Barth’s doctrine of election. See e.g. (in chronological order): ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp.  169–205; ‘Podiumsdiskussion in Chicago,’ pp.  231–79 (English original ibid., pp. 452–89); ‘Gespräch mit Tübinger Stiftlern,’ pp. 31–129, particularly pp. 62–74; ‘Gespräch mit einer “Barth Arbeitsgemeinschaft”,’ pp.  264–94; ‘Gespräch in der Basler Titusgemeinde,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 295–307; ‘Gespräch mit polnischen Christen,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp.  386–91; ‘Gespräch in der Kirchlich-Theologischen Schule Basel,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp.  435–38; ‘Gespräch mit Wuppertaler Studenten,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 472–521, particularly pp. 490–502 and pp. 519–21. Reference to these will be made as appropriate throughout the remainder of the chapter.  92 CD II/2, p. 346; KD II/2, p. 381.  93 O’Neill, ‘Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election,’ p. 323.  94 Ibid., p. 321, my emphasis.  95 Ibid., p. 325.  91

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recorded by Jüngel, ‘I do teach it, but I also do not teach it,’96 it should be noted that there is no apparent evidence in Barth that points to an outright rejection from him in this respect. Coinciding with this is Barth’s stance on hell. Barth is clear on the existence of hell: ‘the place where you are once for all damned and lost without ceasing to exist, without losing the image of God, being what you are but being damned and lost, separated from God whose creature you are, separated also from your neighbour, from the co-human being, and separated in yourself – because there is such a thing as separation, a division, an opposition in our own existence.’97 However, Barth pairs this with the strong rejection (‘No! No! No!’) of hell being part of the proclamation of the Gospel: ‘the proclamation of the gospel means the proclamation that Christ has overcome hell, that Christ has suffered hell in our place, and that we are allowed to live with him, and so to have hell behind us.’98 Hell is the place of victory for Jesus Christ, where He defeated sin and, simultaneously, Jesus being the ‘elected’ and ‘rejected’ wins the victory over sin and death. In this sense, David Lauber is correct in asserting that, for Barth, Jesus’ descent into hell ‘is a powerful lens that sharpens the focus on the quality of Jesus Christ’s death as determined by the fullness of the divine judgement and condemnation.’99 Secondly, one has to say negatively that Barth rejects universalism, both in the immediate context of the doctrine of election, as well as beyond. This is not a contradiction to the first point, if it is qualified as follows: In the immediate context of Chapter 7 in Church Dogmatics, Barth denies for example that Paul argues for universal salvation: ‘He [Paul] does not build vaguely and arbitrarily on the postulate that with God everything and all things must finally be possible. It is from an optimistic estimate of man in conjunction with this postulate of the infinite potentiality of the divine being that the assertion of a final redemption of each and all, known as the doctrine of the apokatastasis, usually draws its inspiration and power. Paul does not start from this point and therefore he does not Quoted in Jüngel, Karl Barth: A Theological Legacy, pp. 44–45. Karl Barth, ‘Fragebeantwortung bei der Konferenz der World Student Christian Federation,’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp. 421–36 (430–31). This text is in the English original.  98 Barth, ‘Fragebeantwortung,’ p. 431.  99 David Lauber, Barth on the Descent into Hell – God, Atonement and the Christian Life (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004), p. 41. For Barth’s understanding of the descent into hell, see the whole section of Lauber’s study from which this quote is taken, pp. 1–41.  96  97



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get the length of this assertion.’100 Or, in the same context as having argued for the reality of hell in the first point, Barth states: ‘It [apokatastasis] is a very agreeable theory – it is very pleasant to imagine that everything turns out right in the end. I have never upheld this theory, and never shall.’101 In another context, Barth writes explicitly on the topic of universalism: ‘one should not surrender himself in any case to the panic which this word seems to spread abroad, before informing himself exactly concerning its possible sense or non-sense.’102 The German scholar Werner van Laak, comparing Barth and Hans Urs von Balthasar on the issue of universalism, takes this statement as proof that there are no traits of universalism to be found in Barth’s work.103 While this seems insufficient, especially against the first point we just made, van Laak’s pointing to this statement illustrates that Barth rejects the associations that the word carries. Tom Greggs is right arguing that ‘for Barth to place his faith in universalism would be to place his faith in something which was greater than Christ and undermined the sovereignty of God; to place his faith in “Christ, the reconciler of all” and to proclaim “Jesus is victor” is not to allow some a priori to govern God, but properly to allow God to be the subject of salvation.’104 Against the supremacy of God in the process of election, Barth will not tolerate a principle to be placed above God. In short, this means that for Barth ‘We must realise that the Christian message does not at its heart express a concept or an idea, nor does it recount an anonymous history to be taken as truth and reality only in concepts and ideas. … But it recounts this history and speaks of its inclusive power and significance in such a way that it declares a name, binding the history strictly and indissolubly to this name and presenting it as the story of the bearer of this name.’105 This reaction by Barth is thereby not limited to universalism; another example is his rejection of grace as a principle.106

CD II/2, p. 295; KD II/2, p. 325. Barth, ‘Fragebeantwortung,’ p. 431. 102 Humanity of God, p. 61; Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 24. 103 Werner van Laak, Allversöhnung: die Lehre von der Apokatastasis : ihre Grundlegung durch Origenes und ihre Bewertung in der gegenwärtigen Theologie bei Karl Barth und Hans Urs von Balthasar (Sinzig : Sankt Meinrad Verlag für Theologie, 1990), especially p. 136. 104 Tom Greggs, ‘“Jesus is Victor:” Passing the Impasse of Barth on Universalism,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 60:2 (2007), pp. 196–212 (211). It is to be noted that Greggs somewhat loses sight of this aspect of God as subject in his subsequent writings (see below). 105 CD IV/1, p. 16; KD IV/1, p. 16. 106 See Barth’s reaction to Berkouwer’s Triumph of Grace in CD IV/3, pp. 173–80; KD IV/3, pp. 198–206 as well as Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern,’ pp.  189–90. (‘The title of the book “The Triumph of Grace,” which has been written about me – it should much rather be called “The Triumph of Jesus.”’) 100 101

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Thirdly, we have to speak about the question of coherence. Oliver Crisp, in response to O’Neill,107 but also in a different context,108 opens his discussion of Barth’s doctrine of election by arguing that ‘the internal logic of Barth’s doctrine of election leads inexorably to one of two possible outcomes: universalism or incoherence.’109 This is, against our exposition above, a misleading trajectory. We have to ask: Whose (in-)coherence, and by which standards do we measure coherence or logic? Put differently, I severely doubt that God’s actions can be incorporated into a (human) system of logic. We are reminded here of one of the earliest passages from Church Dogmatics that we highlighted above: ‘we must not allow any objectivity of logic to prevent us from introducing the adjunct as an element in our knowledge of God.’110 This is not taking the emergency exit labelled ‘divine mystery,’ yet I am simply uncertain how another – if not the – illogical and incoherent basis of election, grace, is accepted without criticism by Crisp, but then the possible results thereof are called incoherent. Crisp points at the end of one of his arguments regarding Barth’s doctrine of election to the following example: ‘one cannot hold both that all Conservative Party candidates fielded have been elected to Parliament, so that they may all return to their offices in the Palace of Westminster, and that the future candidacy of all Conservative Party parliamentary candidates fielded is uncertain. Either their future candidacy is uncertain, or it is not.’111 While this might certainly be true of parliamentary candidates, can one apply the same logic to God? To stay with Crisp’s image, should not our focus be on who made the parliament, rather than becoming tangled in the concerns of who is in and who is out of the parliament? Instructive in this context might be for example Barth’s response to the question whether he was unaware that the majority of his audience in the lectures gathered as Dogmatics in Outline was not Christian. To this, Barth says: ‘I have always laughed and said: “That makes no difference to me.” It would be quite dreadful if the faith of Christians should aim at sundering and separating one man from the others.’112 If we Crisp, ‘Letter and Spirit of Barth’s Doctrine of Election,’ p. 53. Oliver D. Crisp, ‘On Barth’s Denial of Universalism,’ Themelios 29 (2003), pp. 18–29. 109 Ibid., p. 18. 110 CD II/2, pp. 6–7; KD II/2, p. 5. 111 Oliver D. Crisp, ‘On Karl Barth’s Denial of Universalism,’ in his Retrieving Doctrine: Essays in Reformed Theology (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2010), p. 129. This is a slightly revised version of his article with the same title in Themelios. 112 Dogmatics in Outline, p. 84; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 110. 107 108



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are to take Barth’s emphasis on the sovereignty of God and God as subject seriously, the attempt to apply human logic to God seems futile at best, if not arbitrary.113 Crisp is more closely aware of this point when saying about Barth: ‘Barth, however, is happy to withhold this requirement of theological consistency, because he deems that such a move would compromise divine freedom.’114 Barth’s doctrine of election shaped and formed by grace will not necessarily fit a human preconception of logic – and this is not the case because Barth is incoherent here, but because the core variable that he is dealing with, grace, defies logic and coherence. Barth refuses to put human restrictions on God and also to be understood in a limiting way based on human logic: ‘I would not talk of a contradiction (Widerspruch), but I would talk of a sequential speech (Nacheinander-Spruch), do you know what I mean? Now it is this, and then, it is that … the thought about it must be a historical thought. One should not [think in a static logic]… It is a contradicting (Widersprechen) within the context of a speech (Sprechen).’115 Therefore, this allows Barth to both maintain that his exposition points to a universalist direction (point 1) and also reject universalism (point 2).116 Barth summarizes the position succinctly when stating: ‘I do not believe in universalism, but I believe in the universal reconciler Jesus Christ.’117 This is coherent insofar as it maintains two positions that are, taken on their own, incoherent, yet are maintained in balance in Barth’s thought. Fourthly, we have to return to our observation that Barth discusses his doctrine of election within the doctrine of God. It seems therefore feasible to underline once more that the doctrine of election should be approached through the lens of what it says about God, rather than what it says about human beings. This is one of the shortcomings of Greggs’ study that is introduced as follows: Set against the background of the twenty-first century, ‘in which Christianity finds itself confronted by secularity and religious plurality,’ Greggs’ argument compares Barth and Origen on universal salvation, ‘positing Compare Barth’s approach to revelation: It is God ‘who upholds us, who places himself in our path, who becomes our limit, who demands the keeping of his commands, who demands that we let ourselves be disturbed in our acts, that we learn to consider that we are human and not God’ (GD, p. 197, my emphasis; Unterricht I, pp. 243–44). 114 Ibid. 115 Barth, ‘Gespräch mit einer “Barth-Arbeitsgemeinschaft”,’ p. 272. 116 For another pairing of these two positions, see CD IV/3, pp. 477–78; KD IV/3, p. 550–51. 117 Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern,’ p. 189. 113

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an alternative to these versions of separationist accounts of salvation.’118 Against this starting point, it seems hardly surprising that Greggs comes to the conclusions as he does, maintaining a tension between universalism and particularity throughout the book, and arguing for universalism in the context of the election in Jesus Christ and the particularity through the work of the Holy Spirit. However, it loses the main focus of Barth’s doctrine on God, and more specifically even, on God and God acting in God’s grace, as it is not just any election that Barth speaks about, but an election of Jesus done in grace, Gnadenwahl.119 Greggs falls exactly into the trap of turning directly to the human election rather than the divine electing, against which Barth had warned at the start of Chapter 7 in Church Dogmatics: ‘what election is and what it then really means for all human beings and for each one of these private relationships, could remain completely hidden from us with this perspective.’120 Additionally, one has to be reminded that particularity is not only achieved through the work of the Holy Spirit, but Barth speaks about universal election in the particular person of Jesus Christ. ‘Strictly, it is not grace, but He [Jesus Christ] Himself as its Bearer, Bringer and Revealer, who is the Victory, the light which is not overwhelmed by darkness, but before which darkness must yield until it is itself overwhelmed. He Himself is present as the Victor from the very outset.’121 Fifthly, a constructive suggestion should be made regarding the understanding of election as process rather than event. We already saw above in the third point Barth’s refusal to subscribe to a static logic, and here, we are suggesting an alternative to a static approach. Within the context of the election of Jesus Christ, Barth touches upon this aspect, when arguing: ‘If it [predestination] is unchanged and unchangeably the history, encounter and decision between God and man, there is in time an electing by God and an election of man, as there is also a rejecting by God and a rejection of man, but not in the sense that God Himself is bound and imprisoned by it, not as though God’s decree, the first step which He took, committed Him to take

Greggs, Barth, Origen, and Universal Salvation, p. vii. Compare by contrast Greggs’ terminology for his part I, ‘Universalism in the Son’ and Chapter 2, ‘The election of humanity in Christ.’ 120 CD II/2, p. 44, rev.; KD II/2, p. 46. 121 CD IV/3, p. 173. KD IV/3, p. 198. 118 119



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a corresponding second step, and the second a third.’122 Undoubtedly, this cannot be accepted within the context of God’s freedom: ‘If it is true that the predestinating God not only is free but remains free, that He does not cease to make use of His freedom but continues to decide, then in the course of God’s eternal deciding we have constantly to reckon with new decisions in time. As the Bible itself presents the matter, there is no election which cannot be followed by rejection, no rejection which cannot be followed by election.’123 Does this now raise more questions than it answers? Put bluntly, does this mean that God’s election is an arbitrary process and human beings are only the pawns on a divine chessboard? While this might be seen in that way if we were to take this argument in isolation, Barth does not allow this interpretation: ‘this activist understanding of predestination depends wholly and utterly upon the identifying of it with the election of Jesus Christ.’124 And, further: ‘God’s electing and man’s election; God’s self-humiliation and man’s exaltation by God; the self-giving as it is effected in the Son of God and the Son of Man Jesus Christ, and as it is made manifest in Him as the eternal divine decree; the history of salvation in which we can see and understand predestination itself: all these are an act, or they are not what they are. They are an act, a definite act, concrete, completed.’125 There is therefore a definite and final dimension to election, in the sense of the irreversible defeat of sin and death. However, God’s continuous action in grace and mercy adds to this an ongoing ‘electing,’126 which will only be completed in the eschaton and which is determined by a love, ‘which is patient, not consuming this other, but giving it place, willing its existence for its own sake and for the sake of the goal appointed for it.’127 Barth therefore exhibits an ‘understanding of election as a continuing dynamic … [which] sets it in different and perhaps more helpful parameters.’128 This is further supported by Barth’s reference to the idea of the CD II/2, p. 186; KD II/2, p. 205. Ibid. 124 CD II/2, p. 187; KD II/2, p. 205. 125 CD II/2, p. 187; KD II/2, p. 206. 126 An argument could be made for a variation of the theme of ‘God’s being in becoming’ as ‘God’s being in electing.’ See Jüngel, God’s Being is in Becoming. 127 CD II/2, p. 10; KD II/2, p. 9, my emphasis. 128 John Colwell, ‘The Contemporaneity of the Divine Decision: Reflections on Barth’s Denial of “Universalism”,’ in Nigel M. de S. Cameron (ed.), Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell – Papers presented at the Fourth Edinburgh Conference on Christian Dogmatics (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1992), pp.  139–60 (160). Colwell argues that Barth should not be understood as a universalist. However, as it has been shown, this distinction is not as straightforward. 122 123

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covenant,129 and the role that the Church plays as elected community in the process of election.

Human freedom The examination of Barth’s doctrine of election in ‘Approaching the doctrine of election’ (pp. 114–15) left one additional central question unanswered. This is the question of human freedom and the possibility to opt out of the universal election in Jesus Christ. Before giving the concept of Church and mission any further thought, we need to address the following problem: Does the human being have the capacity to deliberately choose to reject his or her election in Jesus Christ? Before this question can be addressed, we will need to examine the existence and role of the ‘rejected’ in Barth’s thought. The exegetical basis for the examination of the fate of the rejected ones is twofold. On the one hand, it has to be remembered that the election of the individual is never direct except for the case of Christ and cannot be understood without considering the mediatory person of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is therefore the starting point of the election of the individual. In Him, the opposing pair of election and rejection finds its focal point and it means that the group of elected and rejected are, despite their differences, which will be seen below, nonetheless brothers and sisters in Christ.130 Both groups are subject to and witness to God’s perfect will in their own differing ways. On the other hand, Judas Iscariot (and, with less detail, the case of Saul-Paul) is examined as an example of a rejected individual.131 Barth carefully traces the way the New Testament describes Judas and concludes that despite his guilt and sin, he remains nonetheless one of the twelve apostles and has therefore a part in the process of election: ‘His election excels and outshines and controls and directs his rejection: not just partly, but wholly; not just relatively, but absolutely … This very man, who is wholly rejected, is elect … he more clearly than all the rest must demonstrate and confirm that he is this – that this is the service for which God elects those whom He elects.’132 Certainly, the example of Judas should not be modelled See for this, J. L. Scott, ‘The Covenant in the Theology of Karl Barth,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 17:2 (1964), pp. 182–98. 130 See here CD II/2, pp. 340–409, particularly p. 353; KD II/2, pp. 375–453, particularly pp. 389–90. 131 See CD II/2, pp. 458–506; KD II/2, pp. 508–63. 132 CD II/2, p. 504; KD II/2, p. 561. 129



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and imitated; however, it cannot be interpreted independent from God’s act of electing.133 This means the following characteristics are of importance in the case of the rejected: First, it needs to be asserted that the rejected individual does not exist despite Barth’s doctrine of universal election in Jesus Christ, but fully within this doctrine. At no point should Barth be understood as wanting to dismiss the reality of the human being rejecting God. Yet, as aptly formulated in the introduction to §35 of Church Dogmatics, ‘The Election of the Individual:’ ‘The man who is isolated over against God is as such rejected by God. But to be this man can only be by the godless man’s own choice. The witness of the community of God to every individual man consists in this: that this choice of the godless man is void; that he belongs eternally to Jesus Christ and therefore is not rejected, but elected by God in Jesus Christ; that the rejection which he deserves on account of his perverse choice is borne and cancelled by Jesus Christ; and that he is appointed to eternal life with God on the basis of the righteous, divine decision.’134 Therefore, the rejection is not God’s action, but the human decision to dismiss and ignore divine grace and we might introduce a subtle distinction to speak of the God-rejecting individual, rather than God rejecting an individual. Fittingly for this point, Barth determines this existence of the rejected within §35 in subsection 4, ‘The Determination of the Rejected.’135 Secondly, the existence of the rejected cannot and should not be understood independently from the elected human being. We are reminded that God’s action is to be understood as determined by grace, 136 so the rejected human being should be considered as ‘not willed by the almighty, holy and compassionate God.’137 It is in this sense that the rejected do not have an independent existence apart from the elected, yet this does not mean that they For an intriguing contemporary perspective on the faithfulness of the person of Judas, see Peter Rollins, The Fidelity of Betrayal – Towards a Church beyond Belief (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2008), particularly pp.  11–25. Arguing from a perspective rooted in postmodern philosophy, Rollins claims that Judas in the act of betrayal of Jesus Christ was nonetheless faithful to his calling. While some of the conclusions that Rollins draws are philosophical of nature, the argument serves as an illustration here that there is a role to be played for the rejected in the grand scheme of election. 134 CD II/2, p. 306; KD II/2, p. 336. 135 CD II/2, pp. 449–506; KD II/2, pp. 498–563. 136 See CD II/2, p. 10; KD II/2, p. 9. 137 CD II/2, p. 450; KD II/2, p. 499. 133

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do not have a purpose in their own way. The very negative assessment of their existence as being contrary to God’s will for them illustrates the very positive purpose of God for all of humanity, i.e. the gracious election of all of humanity in Jesus Christ. Therefore, it is only the elected who can recognize the rejected, yet they should take them seriously as ‘he [the elected human being] cannot know himself as such, or his election, without at the same time knowing the rejected.’138 Importantly, the rejected can only move within the boundaries that God has set for them: Jesus Christ has conquered death once and for all, and ‘Between him [the rejected] and an independent existence of his own as rejected, there stands the death which Jesus Christ has suffered in his place, and the resurrection by which Jesus Christ has opened up for him His own place as elect.’139 It is to be noted, thus, that Barth sees rejection without reservation as a real possibility; however, this rejection cannot be compared with the rejection and punishment suffered by Jesus Christ.140 God’s last word in Jesus Christ to those rejecting God is always grace and election.141 Thirdly, the rejected do have a purpose within God’s plan for creation. On the one hand, the rejected individual shows the reality of the reverse position of election. It seems obvious that this role cannot be played independently from the elected, yet it is also important to remember that the rejected individual ‘represents the world and the individual in so far as they are in need of the divine election. As a sinner against God, he is the lost man who in spite of his election, and the salvation and preservation which it includes, necessarily confirms this fact by his godlessness.’142 Consequently, those who reject God are a reminder of the divine sovereignty that still surpasses the sin of this rejection, and the sheer necessity of the salvation accomplished in Jesus Christ. On the other hand, the rejected also has to be seen as a twofold challenge. First, they do serve as a reminder that every human being carries within them the human capability of rebellion against God. Similarly to the declaration that all religion is unbelief, which we encountered in Chapter 2,

CD II/2, p. 451; KD II/2, p. 500. CD II/2, p. 453; KD II/2, p. 502. See CD II/2, p. 454; KD II/2, p. 503. 141 Compare here also Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, pp. 188–89, on Rom. 6.1. Here Barth emphasizes the strong dialectical relationship between sin and grace: ‘the first (sin) is dissolved by the second (grace); the reverse is impossible’ (p. 188). 142 CD II/2, p. 455; KD II/2, p. 504. 138 139 140



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pp. 60–67, this does keep the elected in awareness of the dictum that they are ‘human and not God.’143 However, secondly, it also plays the important role of the call to witness to those who live in the state of rejection: ‘As he [the elected human] believes that the supremacy of the elect Jesus Christ in face of the rejected is true for himself, he must and will believe that it is true for the other. He will oppose his godlessness. He will confess, and not remain silent, in face of it. He will oppose his assertions, and not yield. He will not fear, but defy them. But however he may do this, it is only with his faith in the Gospel that he will in fact oppose them.’144 To this essential call to witness to the Gospel, we will turn below in the remainder of this chapter. In a first conclusion, one needs to remember, therefore, that the universal election in Jesus Christ does not contradict human freedom. Colin Gunton aptly argues that ‘election, like freedom, is not shapeless and arbitrary: it is to a particular end.’145 At no point should human action be considered as having the capacity to supersede the divine action, the alternative does seem equally implausible, as ‘the salvation of the human being would then – at the end of the day – be dependent on the human being’s willingness to receive it or not.’146 What Hans Vium Mikkelsen is correctly asserting here can be illustrated paradigmatically with Barth’s view of Mary’s response at the annunciation: ‘“Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me as Thou hast said.” Such is human co-operation in this matter, that and only that! … Mary has expressed what creation alone can express in this encounter. That Mary does so and that thereby the creature says “Yes” to God, is a part of the great acceptance which comes to man from God.’147 Therefore, there is certainly the human freedom to reject the election in Jesus Christ and Barth would even go as far as to argue that we all have the capacity for this rejection all the time. However, at no point can the human No, be it ever so consistently hostile, disappointed or fearful, surpass the divine Yes that God has spoken to all of humanity in Jesus Christ.

GD, p. 197; Unterricht I, p. 243–44, my emphasis. For more on this point, see Chapter 1, pp. 11–17 on the characteristics of revelation. CD II/2, p. 454; KD II/2, pp. 505–06. 145 Colin Gunton, ‘The Triune God and the Freedom of the Creature,’ in Stephen W. Sykes (ed.), Karl Barth: Centenary Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 46–65 (51). 146 Mikkelsen, Reconciled Humanity, p. 213. 147 Dogmatics in Outline, pp. 90–91; Dogmatik im Grundriß, pp. 116–17. 143

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Conclusion This chapter has provided an exposition and discussion of Barth’s doctrine of election and how it relates to universalism. Consistent with the strong emphasis on God’s sovereignty in revelation that we have seen in Chapter 1, Barth argues here for the supremacy of God, who acts in perfect freedom in election and has defeated sin and death while still being active today. The doctrine of election provides the following key areas of application: First, we have been suggesting a re-emphasis of the subject of the doctrine of election. Having the doctrine of election placed within the doctrine of God, as done by Barth, should always be understood as first and foremost communicating something about God. This plays a key role that allows Barth to maintain the assumedly incoherent position of rejecting universalism as a principle, while firmly arguing for the universal election of all of humanity. At no point are these points simply contradictory, but they provide the opportunity for Barth not to make God subject to any label. Secondly, the universal election of humanity in Christ as suggested by Barth provides a unique challenge for the Christian community and their mission. This election transcends differences in religion, race, gender and origin, and provides an argument for a holistic approach to grace that extends to all of humanity. Barth thereby expresses a concern for the Good News of the Gospel not being soured with a teaching on hell. So, is Barth a universalist? I am maintaining here that it is not the right question to pose to Barth, nor will it be possible to receive a clear answer from Barth’s writings. Barth’s vantage point keeps him from a definite decision either way precisely because he does not consider it a question to be addressed. I am proposing that Barth does not answer the question affirmatively in order to avoid a situation where a particular number is assigned to people either in heaven or hell. Anyone who firmly denies universalism will find himself or herself in a position that will eventually argue that this or that person does not deserve eternal salvation. To those, Barth says: God does not owe you anything. Likewise, those who affirm universalism, arguing that God will indeed save everyone in the end because God is love and a loving God does not send



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anyone to eternal punishment, will likely also be disappointed by Barth. Barth says to them: You cannot limit God’s freedom by imposing a rule outside of God on God. Could it be argued, therefore, that Barth does not have an opinion at all on the matter of universalism? This chapter and the countless articles on the subject beg to differ. The audience Barth addresses in Church Dogmatics is the Christian Church, and the fact that Barth does not give them a clear answer on the question of universalism might very well be a warning to be heeded: Could it be that the Christian Church should not concern herself with this question? Barth would argue that rather than finding a definite answer on this question, the Christian Church should much rather concern herself with preaching Jesus Christ, and call the world to faith in Him. To recall one of the central tenets of Barth’s doctrine of election: In order to avoid the insecurity of the traditional approach to predestination, ‘In the sharpest contrast to this view our thesis that the eternal will of God is the election of Jesus Christ means that we deny the existence of any such twofold mystery.’148 In the development of a Christian theology of non-Christian religions, this is one of the key issues to be taken away from Barth’s doctrine of election. It calls the individual Christian and the Christian Church to witness to Jesus Christ, in constant openness to the factual reality that ‘this person, too’ is someone for whom Jesus died and rose again. Practically, it means the constant pointing away from themselves and to Jesus Christ. This is substantiated further when we also acknowledge the universal applicability of the revelation in Jesus Christ that we saw in Chapter 1, and the self-critical understanding and constant re-examination of the Christian Church with regard to the Christian religion from Chapter 2. In conclusion, Barth’s doctrine of the election of grace is shaped by his understanding of God’s gracious decision to elect both election and rejection in the person of God the Son, Jesus Christ. For the moment, it remains to conclude once more: The centre of Barth’s theology within his doctrine of election is and remains Jesus Christ.

CD II/2, p. 146; KD II/2, p. 158.

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Engaging the Inclusivist Paradigm– A Conversation between Karl Rahner and Karl Barth In the first four chapters, I discussed different aspects of Barth’s theology based on their importance for the development of a Christian understanding of the non-Christian other. Through the emphasis on Barth’s multifaceted doctrine of revelation (Chapter 1), a revised interpretation of his understanding of religion (Chapter 2), the discussion of his theological anthropology (Chapter 3) and critical engagement with his doctrine of election (Chapter 4), I have suggested that a purely exclusivist interpretation of Barth cannot be sustained any longer. However, the question now arises: If Barth is not to be understood solely as an exclusivist, what are the other elements in Barth’s understanding of the non-Christian? In order to find these other elements, Chapters 5 and 6 will put Barth into conversation with other schools of thought in the theology of religions, namely inclusivism and pluralism. These conversations will be constructive as they shed further light on the complexity of Barth’s understanding of the non-Christian and provide the opportunity to develop his approach further; however, it also serves as a point of criticism for some of the points of difference in these approaches. While it is not the primary goal, where appropriate, Barth’s thought will also be used to critically challenge the presuppositions of the thinkers represented here. In this chapter, we are engaging with an approach towards the non-Christian other that has arguably more of an overlap with Barth’s theology than pluralism, namely inclusivism. Inclusivism refers to the position where ‘Christ is the normative revelation of God, although salvation is possible outside of the

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explicit Christian Church, but this salvation is always from Christ.’1 The most prominent defendant of the inclusivist position is quite possibly Karl Rahner. He will serve as the main conversation partner in this chapter. After the initial outline of the inclusivist position (pp. 146–49), we will establish a conversation on the different issues from the first part in ‘Engaging the inclusivist paradigm’ (p. 149), namely concerning revelation (pp. 149–56), religion (pp. 156–64), theological anthropology (pp. 164–71) and soteriology (pp. 171–74).

Outline of the inclusivist paradigm Inclusivism is traditionally understood to be located between pluralism and exclusivism in the standard typology of Christian approaches to other religions. As the brief definition above already suggests, it ‘seeks to makes sense of two vital features of the Christian faith: (1) the commitment to Christ as the unique and normative revelation of God, and (2) God’s universal salvific will.’2 What does this mean in detail? Our primary interlocutor in this chapter will be Karl Rahner. When introducing any thinker and engaging with his or her writings, there is a challenge with regard to how the individual is being read and interpreted. This is all the more true when engaging with a theologian who has produced extensive writings over multiple decades such as Rahner. Therefore, time and space does not allow a prolonged discussion of Rahner’s precise intellectual heritage at this point. However, some brief initial remarks on the way Rahner’s thought is approached seem to be necessary at this introductory stage. Karen Kilby reminds her readers that there are crucial problems with interpreting Rahner in a foundationalist way. She distinguishes between two different foundationalist interpretations,3 one of them seeing Rahner’s theology as influenced by his early philosophical studies, the other one seeing him as a quintessentially modern, liberal thinker. Against these, Kilby suggests that ‘Rahner’s oeuvre does not need in fact to be read as quite the D’Costa, ‘Christian Theology and Other Faiths,’ p. 292. David Cheetham, ‘Inclusivisms: Honouring Faithfulness and Openness,’ in Christian Approaches to Other Faiths (London: SCM Press, 2008), pp. 63–84 (63).   3 Karen Kilby, Karl Rahner – Theology and Philosophy (London: Routledge, 2004), pp. 9–10.   1   2



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tightly knit whole that it has often been taken to be – there are significant changes of both tone and position between philosophical and theological works.’4 Consequently, it is not my primary concern here to commit myself to reading Rahner in either one of these two foundationalist ways and as indebted to a particular school of thought, be this putting emphasis on his medieval heritage (e.g. Thomas Aquinas) or on his commitment to modernity (e.g. Kant). Instead, by choosing Rahner as a conversation partner here, I would like to detect elements in his approach to non-Christian religions that can be enriched or challenged by an exchange with Barth’s theology. This also means that I have no intention of drawing partisan lines that see Barth as hero and Rahner as villain. Instead, as will be seen, there are elements in Barth’s theology that are very much congruent with Rahner’s approach. The concession that I will have to make is that my goal here is not to offer a critical engagement with Rahner’s entire theological opus. All I intend to do at this stage is to relate Barth’s theology as it has been outlined in the previous four chapters to a different approach to non-Christian religions. Certainly, it will become evident that aspects of Rahner’s theology are deeply indebted to certain theologians at certain points. By reading and engaging with Rahner directly rather than through a particular interpretative lens, I hope to offer an inquiry into his thought that is both fair and avoids stereotypes. In Rahner’s case, inclusivism and the question of the non-Christian are defined by addressing the following two major issues: ‘namely the necessity of the Christian faith [on the one hand] and the universal salvific will of God’s love and omnipotence [on the other hand].’5 The tension between these forces represents the foundation of Rahner’s approach to the question. Rephrasing the problem before him, Rahner addresses in a different context the following question: ‘Who does … belong to the Church as members in the fullest sense and who do not belong to it in this sense? What follows, or what does not necessarily follow with regard to justification, state of grace and union with Christ, from this kind of [anonymous] non-membership of Kilby, Karl Rahner, p. 10. Karl Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ Theological Investigations 6 (Baltimore: Helicon Press; London: Darton, Longman & Todd), pp.  390–98 (391). All subsequent references to articles in Theological Investigations will be abbreviated as follows: Title of the essay in quotation marks, followed by TI, volume number and page. For reasons of clarity, this reference will be given unless in case of subsequent reference to the same page in the same article.

  4   5

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the Church? Finally, what insights into the nature of the Church itself result from this teaching about membership and non-membership of the Church?’6 How this question relates to the non-Christian will be of particular interest in the sections on religion (pp. 154–67) and soteriology (pp. 171–74). As it is also clear, Rahner examines the question of salvation from numerous angles. His thought is thereby informed and led by the maxim that faith in Jesus Christ alone is ‘saving faith,’ ‘no other religion – not even Islam – maintains so absolutely that it is the religion, the one and only valid revelation of the one living God.’7 Taking this basic assumption further, Rahner asks, against the backdrop of the universal salvific will of God, ‘how can Jesus Christ be understood as being present and efficacious in the non-Christian religion.’8 A positive answer to this question is due to the fact that, according to Rahner, any non-Christian religion ‘does not merely contain elements of a natural knowledge of God … it contains also supernatural elements arising out of the grace which is given to men as a gratuitous gift on account of Christ.’9 These introductory quotes point to and illustrate a number of characteristics that will have to be unpacked over the course of this chapter. First, we note a different approach to revelation, as it has been outlined in Barth. This speaks to the heart of the debate concerning nature and grace, as well as the possibility of a natural knowledge of God, which will be addressed in ‘Revelation’ (pp. 149–56). Secondly, we are confronted here with a more positive perspective on religion than the one we found in the case of Barth. To what extent this is a challenge to Barth’s position will be examined when discussing Rahner’s position on religion (pp. 157–64). Thirdly, we will engage with the implications of anonymous Christianity10 for theological anthropology (pp. 164–71), revisiting not only the viability of an approach to revelation with a human point of contact as suggested by Rahner, but also what it means in general for theology Rahner, ‘Membership of the Church according to the teaching of Pius XII’s Encyclical “Mystici Corporis Christi”,’ TI 2, pp.  1–88 (1). Rahner raises the questions quoted here in the context of the Encyclical Letter ‘Mystici Corporis Christi’– the questions themselves reappear throughout his writings in broader contexts. We will return to the question of Church membership again below at various points.   7 Rahner, ‘Christianity and the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 5, pp. 115–34 (116).   8 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, pp. 39–50 (43).   9 Rahner, ‘Christianity and the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 5, p. 121.  10 For the possibly best introduction to Rahner’s understanding of the anonymous Christian, see the article by Klaus Riesenhuber, ‘Der anonyme Christ, nach Karl Rahner,’ Zeitschrift für Katholische Theologie 86 (1964), pp. 286–303.   6



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to have an anthropological starting point. Fourthly and finally, we will examine Rahner’s approach to soteriology, and if and how he differentiates between salvation of the Christian and the non-Christian (pp. 171–74). For this purpose, we will pay particular attention to the question of universalism and how universalism might be present in Rahner’s inclusivism. In examining these different aspects, particular emphasis will be put on the first two areas, i.e. revelation and religion, as both of these already entail the fundamental aspects of what we will be seeing in the sections on theological anthropology and soteriology.

Engaging the inclusivist paradigm Revelation When discussing the relation between the understanding of revelation in the theology of Barth and Rahner, one will undoubtedly have to address the question of natural theology. A general engagement with this issue, however, would take us too far from our actual topic. Therefore, we will be turning in this section more specifically to the question of revelation being possible outside of the Christian sphere. For this purpose, we will be revisiting Barth’s emphasis on revelation as a divine act and put this in conversation with Rahner’s argument for the supernatural existential, as well as the argument for Jesus Christ to be found in the non-Christian religions. First, we have to address the concept of the supernatural existential, which proves to be foundational to Rahner’s thought. The ‘supernatural existential’11 is connected to God’s self-communicative attribute, which is ‘supernatural and unmerited,’ and ‘this self-communication is present in every person at least in the mode of an offer.’12 It enters into the human being’s life when he or she becomes conscious of his or her transcendent nature and is part of the historical experience, ‘for it is through the content of historical experience that man becomes conscious of his own transcendental nature.’13 This then leads Rahner to argue in yet another context for the ‘supernatural and salvific will The term itself is defined probably most precisely in Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith (London: Darton Longman & Todd, 1978), p. 126.  12 Ibid., p. 127, emphasis in original.  13 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 48.  11

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of God … [informing] a theory of the relationship of grace on the one hand and man, mankind, and its history on the other which sees this grace … more as “habitual” than as “actual”.’14 It means that there will be a possibility to find a human element in the process of revelation as Rahner understands it. This is due to the Vorgriff, the fact that ‘the original knowledge of God is not the kind of knowledge in which one grasps an object which happens to present itself from outside. It has rather the character of transcendental experience. Insofar as this subjective, non-objective luminosity of the subject in its transcendence is always oriented towards the holy mystery, the knowledge of God is always present unthematically and without name, and not just when we begin to speak of it.’15 Crucially, it also means that a concrete encounter with Jesus Christ is not absolutely necessary for a saving faith, a point to which we will return below when discussing the question of the anonymous Christian and what it means for the understanding of revelation. When one turns to the question of whether and how Jesus Christ is present in non-Christian religions, a subtle distinction is necessary: We are not dealing in this context with the necessity of these religions per se, although this question is undoubtedly of great interest.16 However, here, we are addressing the following question from the perspective of revelation: ‘how is Jesus Christ present and efficacious in the faith of the individual non-Christian?’17 Rahner answers this question in the following way: One can presume the presence of Jesus Christ in the faith of the non-Christian when one subscribes to two presuppositions. First, Rahner argues for the existence of ‘a general supernatural [divine] will to salvation which is really efficacious in the world,’18 which in turn ‘makes possible a belief in supernatural revelation everywhere.’19 We are seeing here the first core characteristic of the inclusivist position spelled out clearly and Rahner cautiously claims that the way in which such a general supernatural will to salvation might be possible outside of the traditional boundaries is not clear. However, and this is foundational to Rahner’s argument here, ‘this does Rahner, ‘On the Importance of the non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, pp. 288–95 (291). Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith, p. 21.  16 This is a question we will address in ‘Religion’ (pp. 157–64).  17 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 43, my emphasis.  18 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 40.  19 Ibid.  14  15



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not forbid the theologian’s asking in what way there can be such a universal opportunity of faith.’20 There is an affirmation, thus, of the non-Christian’s capacity to have a transcendental experience of God. However, what is said here affirmatively about the possibility of an experience of God outside the Christian sphere is treated more cautiously regarding the difference of religious experience in and outside the Church.21 Secondly, Rahner builds his argument on the assumption that the historical and social character of salvation will lead to avoiding a position that ‘a non-Christian religion could have, from the outset, no positive influence at all on the supernatural event of salvation in the individual.’22 This does not mean here that a blank cheque is issued to all religions; it merely asserts the existence of a historical and social dimension to salvation. For this purpose, Rahner employs the method of memoria, which allows him to confirm the presence of Jesus Christ in the non-Christian religions. Memoria is understood as active in faith, the interplay between Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, ‘the anticipation of the absolute bringer of salvation [which] seeks him and is on the watch for him in history.’23 This memoria is common to all of humanity and the ‘a priori possibility of historical experience as such.’24 If one compares this argument with Barth’s position of revelation, the complexity of Barth’s approach becomes clear. On the one hand, despite the fact that Barth would formulate the question as well as the answer differently, one could see the affirmation that Jesus Christ is present in non-Christian religions also echoed by Barth. How can this be argued? First, let us begin with testing whether the opposite of Rahner’s statement could be true of Barth. Would Barth deny that ‘Jesus Christ is present in non-Christian religions’? This seems hardly the case against the background of what we argued in Chapter 1 regarding means of revelation and the emphasis on divine sovereignty in revelation. In what context and through which medium God reveals Godself is not for the human being to decide. However, would Barth affirm that ‘Jesus Christ is present in non-Christian religions’? It seems equally unlikely that Barth would Ibid. Compare Rahner, ‘Religious Feeling Inside and Outside the Church,’ TI 17, particularly pp. 228–42 (238–40).  22 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 41.  23 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 48.  24 Ibid.

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make such statement, yet for different reasons. The differentiation between means of revelation and revelation seems instructive in this case. In Barth’s doctrinal thought, it seems out of the question to affirm that non-Christian religions could be used as a means of revelation – what is true of Russian communism can hardly be denied to non-Christian religions. However, as in the case with these means of revelation, Barth would not take the step that Rahner is taking here in affirming that God is present in these religions per se. Barth argues: ‘God may speak to us through a pagan or an atheist, and thus give us to understand that the boundary between the Church and the secular world can still take at any time a different course from that which we think we discern. Yet, this does not mean, unless we are prophets, that we ourselves have to proclaim the pagan or atheistic thing which we have heard.’25 Thus, while not denying God the possibility to be present in these religions, Barth would not positively affirm either that Jesus Christ is present there. For Barth, the question is thus not whether salvation is possible outside of the Church’s ministry26 – salvation will always be within the realm of God’s sovereignty and we are not called to name the boundaries thereof. However, if one hears God speak in an unfamiliar setting, such a parable of the kingdom can result in gladness, but not in factual proclamation of this occurrence: ‘If one notices such a light, one is glad. However, I have to warn against all temptations to set up equations here and to build an ethic on their foundations. Whether one discovers such parables in more conservative or more revolutionary figures … one is never allowed to turn parables (Gleichnisse) into equations (Gleichungen). Instead, what is required is a Christian openness for the following: factual and practical, there are also brothers out there. There is no theoretical response in this matter, but always only a practical one.’27 Thus, Barth might be open to the world and call the Christian to do the same; however, contrary to Rahner, this will always remain a statement about God’s actions, rather than the human being. On the other hand, Barth would be critical of the starting point of the approach in memoria. As it will be seen in ‘Theological anthropology’ CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, pp. 55–56. Geoff Thompson, ‘Salvation Beyond the Church’s Ministry: Reflections on Barth and Rahner,’ in and Murray A. Rae (eds), God of Salvation – Soteriology in Theological Perspective (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), pp.  137–53, particularly pp. 151–53. Thompson argues that the parables of the kingdom should be compared to the anonymous Christian.  27 Barth, ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22/23.10.1967),’ pp. 400–1.  25  26



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(pp. 164–71), for Barth, this gives the human being in revelation too much credit. Keeping in mind the first criterion of inclusivism stated above, i.e. the centrality of Jesus Christ for salvation, Rahner sees this as reason to argue for the anonymous Christian rather than an anonymous theist, as ‘the salvation which he [man] achieves is the salvation of Christ, because there is no other.’28 We will have to return to the aspect of salvation again in due course, yet the point of emphasis in this context has to be the following: Rahner grounds his theory of the anonymous Christian in divine revelation and argues that this also involves the human being from the very beginning. Thus, the human being ‘must be given the possibility of hearing and accepting as beyond itself the incalculable new turning of God towards it in his revelation. That is to say, it must be, to begin with, a being of unlimited openness for the limitless being of God, therefore that being we call spirit.’29 For the context of revelation, this means ‘that man in experiencing his transcendence, his limitless openness … also already experiences the offer of grace … this means that the express revelation of the word in Christ is not something which comes to us from without as entirely strange, but only the explication of what we already are by grace and what we experience at least incoherently in the limitlessness of our transcendence.’30 Crucially, this also leads to a position that ‘the expressly Christian revelation becomes the explicit statement of revelation of grace which man always experiences implicitly in the depths of his being.’31 The obvious problem arising here is due to the involvement of the transcendental experience; the starting point becomes God and the human being together. Against this background, one criticism might be obvious: Hans Urs von Balthasar is one theologian who argues that Rahner makes theology dependent on the implications of German idealism. Accordingly, he maintains that this is a move that is hostile to theology because ‘transcendental philosophy exhausts the notion of objectivity in order to develop a philosophy of the intellectual control of the universe and therefore no longer has this notion at its disposal for exploring man’s relation to God.’32 Von Balthasar’s criticism therein lies in Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ TI 6, p. 391. Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ TI 6, p. 392.  30 Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ TI 6, p. 394.  31 Ibid.  32 Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Moment of Christian Witness (trans. Richard Beckley; San Francisco, CA: lgnatius Press, 1994), p. 83.  28  29

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the argument that theology should never be based on any philosophy,33 as it might diminish the value of theology per se. It is obvious that von Balthasar and Barth share this criticism: While Barth would affirm the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ,34 Barth’s reservations centre on Rahner’s establishing a human Anknüpfungspunkt for the event of revelation.35 We have seen throughout the first part that Barth’s theology has been criticized for dismissing the human being in the relationship between God and the human being. However, as shown in the discussion of the threefold process of extra nos-pro nobis-in nobis,36 this is not the case. For Barth, revelation is a divine act and should never be taken for granted, which is one of the main tenets of Barth’s theological system as a whole. The closest Barth might get to Rahner’s position might be in the following statement on missions to non-Christians: ‘missions to the heathen, and they particularly, can be pursued meaningfully only on the presupposition of the clear promise and firm belief that everything which was needed for the salvation of all, and therefore of these men who have fallen victim to these false beliefs in false gods, has already taken place (geschehen ist), that Jesus Christ died and rose again for these “heathen” too. Thus the task of mission can consist only in announcing (aufzuzeigen) this to them. It is on this basis that they are to be addressed (anzusprechen) from the very outset.’37 However, as should be clear, this has nothing to do with a human awareness of the divine; it is much rather a statement on the universal applicability of the revelation of Jesus Christ. However, one might be critical of this position: Granting the human being a role in revelation will also have consequences for the understanding of salvation. Thus, giving the human being a significant role at this point means that God’s role is somewhat diminished – not only in revelation, but also in salvation. When critiquing his colleague Emil Brunner’s argument for emphasizing such a human capacity for revelation, Barth formulates his critique as follows: ‘Has not Brunner added to man’s “capacity for revelation,” Ibid., pp. 146–47. Compare Chapter 1, pp. 21–24.  35 There are obviously also implications for theology as such to which we return below in pp. 149–50 when speaking about religion.  36 Compare Chapter 1, especially the end of pp. 17–21 and the beginning of pp. 21–24.  37 CD IV/3.1, p. 874, rev.; KD IV/3.1, pp. 1002–1003. One might speculate why Barth added inverted commas for ‘heathen’ here, but it might imply that, as Jesus died and rose for them, they are not to addressed as ‘heathen,’ but much more as the beloved creature to God that they are.  33  34



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something very material: man’s practically proved ability to know God, imperfectly it may be, but nevertheless really and therefore surely not without relevance for salvation?’38 The same could be said about Rahner’s starting point here. Further still, as Bruce Marshall has argued successfully, Rahner’s rooting of revelation in the human awareness of self-transcendence leads, in connection with the argument for the anonymous Christian, to a loss of particularity of the revelation of Jesus Christ: ‘[Rahner] maintains that persons who have not “encountered” Jesus Christ as a particular person can yet exercise faith on the basis of the orientation alone … he seems further to say that this “pre-thematic” faith establishes a saving relationship precisely to Jesus Christ as a particular person.’39 This goes against Barth’s understanding when he (rightly) emphasizes the centrality of the person of Jesus Christ in revelation and the uniqueness of this revelation, despite the fact that it might be mediated through different media of revelation. Furthermore, as I have shown throughout the first part, Barth’s emphasis on the divine initiative should not be confused with a lack of concern for the human being. However, the utter difference between God and the human being is not overcome by the emphasis on a human a priori in the way Rahner argues. In Barth, this gap is bridged only through God’s action: ‘the knowability of God among us and for us, which lies at the foundation of the fulfilment of our real knowledge of God, is first and properly God’s own possibility. From eternity and in eternity God is knowable to Himself. For this reason and in this way He is also knowable among us and for us. It is because this is so that the foundation of our knowledge of God is so sure, and the knowledge of God such a powerful and irresistible event.’40 In Barth, revelation will always remain in God’s sovereignty; without God’s intervention no revelation will occur. Eberhard Jüngel’s critique of Rahner’s approach reflects this problem when he states that ‘at all events it is true that revelation does not take its rise as an increase of the selfevident, but rather establishes itself from itself, in an absolutely underivative

Karl Barth, ‘No!’ in Natural Theology – Comprising ‘Nature and Grace’ by Professor Dr. Emil Brunner and the Reply “No!” by Dr. Karl Barth (trans. Peter Fraenkel; intro. John Baillie; London: Geoffrey Bles, The Centenary Press, 1946), p. 82.  39 Bruce Marshall, Christology in Conflict – The Identity of a Saviour in Rahner and Barth (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987), p. 87.  40 CD II/1, p. 67; KD II/1, p. 72.  38

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way, as that which over against the self-evident is more self-evident.’41 We will return to further exposition of this critique when turning to theological anthropology below, as ‘the revelation of God makes us thematic in our humanity.’42 For the development of the Christian theology of the non-Christian other, the implications of this discussion of revelation are difficult to assess in isolation. Does Rahner’s approach in putting more emphasis on the human’s awareness of transcendence in revelation have an advantage over the stronger emphasis that Barth puts on the divine initiative? Taken at face value, this does not seem to be the case. It illustrates, however, that Barth’s doctrine of revelation has to be interpreted correctly and the emphasis that Barth puts on divine sovereignty in revelation must not exclude a human element in its exposition. Therefore, the fact that Barth emphatically denies a human point of contact for divine revelation has to be read in conjunction with the assertion that there are different means of revelation, and God in sovereignty and freedom might be speaking through different ways at different times. A comment is also necessary regarding the starting point in Jesus Christ. Whereas Barth’s approach outlined here stays truly faithful to his intended starting point in Jesus Christ when developing a theology of the non-Christian other,43 the revelatory aspects of inclusivism as outlined above – almost ironically – run the risk of losing the particularity of Jesus Christ, which is precisely one of the tenets of the inclusivist position. While it is emphasized that salvation will only occur through Jesus Christ, the fact that salvation is rooted not only externally but also linked to the moment when anyone might become aware of their own self-transcendence results in a position that diminishes the importance of Jesus Christ to the point that it might dissolve completely. As oversimplified as this critique might seem, this will be an issue to which we will return in the following sections from different angles. Eberhard Jüngel, ‘Extra Christum nulla salus – A Principle of Natural Theology? – Protestant Reflections on the “anonymity” of the Christian,’ in Theological essays, Vol. I (trans. John B. Webster; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1989), pp. 173–88 (183), my emphasis.  42 Ibid., p. 184.  43 Compare the quote from the introduction regarding Barth planning a theology of non-Christian religions, ‘completely differently from the way this was normally done: not that the general would be the basis, to end up in a position where Jesus Christ would end up as above all, but much rather that Jesus Christ would be the foundation from where the conversation with the religions might possibly begin a completely new conversation’ (Fangmeier, Der Theologe Karl Barth, p. 62).  41



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Religion The issue of religion was already in the case of Barth a very hotly debated issue: One only has to recall John Hick’s accusation of ‘bigotry’44 towards Barth because of the latter’s perceived lack of interest in religion. In this part, I am establishing a conversation between Barth and Rahner on the question of the role of religion. First, it should be noted that Rahner does not argue for his position towards other religions without a commitment to the superiority of Christianity. This is of crucial importance in this section on religion, yet also in the following section when we will turn to the topic of anonymous Christians. In general terms, Rahner formulates his position of the absoluteness of Christianity as follows: Pointing to the centrality of Jesus Christ, adherents to Christianity have a ‘relationship to the authentic and sole witness who is given to them for their lives as a way of leaping into the blessed and saving incomprehensibility of God.’45 Who is this Jesus? He is ‘the unique and effective exemplar … for belief in God,’46 and ‘the most real testimony, one that in its fate is for himself and for us the most real testimony … and the event of a belief in God that can never perish.’47 The question, thus, arises how Christianity relates to non-Christian religions. Rahner describes one possible approach to non-Christian religions as follows: ‘we might conceive of a position in which the Catholic arrived at the judgement that all these creeds and religions are equally justified from the outset as expressions of a single basic attitude of “faith”; that they all serve to bring men into a relationship with God that is salvific; that they differ from one another only in points that are more or less inessential.’48 As will be seen in Chapter 6, this is an adequate description of the pluralist position and will be denied by Rahner. Indeed, Rahner maintains that ‘this is precisely a judgement which the Catholic Christian cannot make.’49 Instead, Rahner takes it as an essential part of Catholic belief that ‘Christianity is the unique and absolute religion founded by God through Christ and prescribed by him for all men; that it is the way of salvation which God, of his salvific will, has created for all John Hick, God Has Many Names (US), p. 90. Rahner, ‘Christianity’s Absolute Claim,’ TI 21, pp. 171–84 (181), my emphasis.  46 Ibid.  47 Rahner, ‘Christianity’s Absolute Claim,’ TI 21, p. 180.  48 Rahner, ‘Church, Churches and Religions,’ TI 10, pp. 30–49 (30–31).  49 Rahner, ‘Church, Churches and Religions,’ TI 10, p. 31.  44  45

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and made radically binding for all to follow.’50 None of what follows regarding Rahner’s position should supersede this position. A first contrast should be obvious from this short introductory section with Barth’s understanding of the Christian religion. Whereas Barth is critical towards religion per se, and this judgement of religion is first and foremost applied to the Christian religion, a similarly critical attitude towards the Christian religion is at first sight missing in Rahner. In Barth’s thought, religion can only be sanctified through revelation and is constantly called to be reflecting the grace of revelation, thus becoming a medium of revelation itself through divine initiative. However, the Christian religion in Barth is only true insofar as it is true to divine revelation. This leads Barth, as it has been argued, to maintain that the divine judgement on religion as unbelief must not be replicated by a human judgement of the Christian.51 By contrast, Rahner is unreservedly committed to the Catholic faith, i.e. not only Christianity as such, but one form of the Christian faith. This does not stand in contradiction to Barth’s commitment to the Protestant Church. Barth maintains also here the basic divine judgement on religion, possibly even to a greater extent.52 As Rahner also engages with different forms of the Christian faith in the context of ‘Church, Churches and religions,’ this is a striking additional characteristic of his understanding of the Christian religion as the absolute religion: ‘The Catholic Church cannot think of herself as one among many historical manifestations in which one and the same God-man Jesus Christ is made present, which are offered by God to man for him to choose whichever he like. On the contrary she must necessarily think of herself as the one and total presence in history of the one God-man in his truth and

Ibid., emphasis in original. CD I/2, p. 300; KD I/2, p. 328. In the same context, Barth continues that the divine judgement, ‘… can be heard and understood, strictly and exactly as intended, only by those who do not despair of the human element as such, who regard it as something worth while, who have some inkling of what it means really to abandon the world of Greek or Indian gods, China’s world of wisdom or even the world of Roman Catholicism, or our own Protestant world of faith as such, in the thoroughgoing sense of that divine judgement. In this sense the divine judgement, which we have to hear and receive, can actually be described as a safeguard against all forms of ignorance and Philistinism’ (CD I/2, p. 301; KD I/2, p. 328).  52 CD I/2, p. 352; KD I/2, p. 387. (‘The structure of this religion (most acutely in its Protestant form) is certainly quite different from that of others. And this, too, we can understand and assess only as the work of the name of Jesus Christ. But it is not so decidedly different from others that in respect of it we can evade the judgement of the divine revelation that all religion is idolatry and self-righteousness.’)  50  51



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grace, and as such as having a fundamental relationship to all men.’53 The attractiveness of Barth’s critical position towards religion per se lies precisely in applying this critique first and foremost to the Christian religion. Barth’s preference thereby might be towards the Protestant form of Christianity; however, this does not keep Barth from arguing that, against divine revelation, all forms of Christianity as well as all religions will remain a mere human attempt at grasping something that can only be given by the divine. If one turns to the question of non-Christian religions, there are a number of issues at stake. Most interestingly, Rahner argues for the ‘importance of non-Christian religions for salvation.’54 First, we have to touch upon the fact that Rahner draws a distinction between different religions considering their proximity to Christianity. Rahner argues – with reference to the Vatican II document Nostra Aetate – that some religions (Judaism and Islam) should be treated differently in the discussion. However, on what ground can this be done? Rahner maintains that ‘the Old Testament contains part of that divine revelation which Christianity regards as its own and Islam is related expressly at least to Christian revelation as a whole.’55 While this is undoubtedly true, it nonetheless avoids the question of the de facto relationship between Christianity and these religions, and is not discussed any further. Instead, Rahner maintains that: ‘There is a relationship of the Church to the non-Christian religions as such … and not only a relationship to non-Christian individuals.’56 This is pointing to an interesting feature of the approach to non-Christian religions that is not unique to Rahner, but essential to the Roman Catholic position as a whole, i.e. the understanding of non-Christian religions as praeparatio evangelica, a preparation for the Gospel. The Dogmatic Constitution of the Church Lumen Gentium defines this nature of the non-Christian religions as follows: ‘Whatever good or truth is found among them [i.e. non-Christian religions, but also those who have not encountered the Gospel] is considered by the Church to be preparation for the Gospel.’57 It is important to note here Rahner, ‘Church, Churches and Religions,’ TI 10, pp. 40–41. Rahner, ‘On the importance of non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, pp. 288–95.  55 Rahner, ‘On the importance of non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, p. 288.  56 Rahner, ‘On the importance of non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, p. 289.  57 Dogmatic Constitution of the Church, Lumen Gentium, Chapter 2, (16). The text here has a note (n. 20) referring to the work of Eusebius Caes., Praeparatio Evangelica, 1, 1: PG 2128 AB (Vatican Council II – The Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents. Edited by Austin Flannery, O.P., Preface by John Cardinal Wright. [Leominster, Herefords, England: Fowler Wright Book Ltd., 1975]), p. 368.  53  54

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that this should not be read as giving a blank cheque to all religions. As Gavin D’ Costa reminds us, the point of emphasis here remains that ‘religions are not entirely positive. Indeed, some of their rituals “insofar as they depend on superstitions or other errors (cf. 1 Cor. 10.20–21), constitute an obstacle to salvation.” This statement refers to Redemptoris Missio, 55, which speaks of the “gaps, insufficiencies and errors” contained within the religions.’58 In agreement with the initial statement of the absoluteness of Christianity, Rahner confirms with the Catholic Church’s position that ‘non-Christian religions then, even though incomplete, rudimentary, and partially debased, can be realities within a positive history of salvation and revelation.’59 Put differently, arguing that a non-Christian religion can play a role towards salvation ‘is no denial of its vitiated character or its provisional place in salvation-history. Nor does it deny that any such specific religion may also have a negative influence on the genesis of salvation event in an individual non-Christian.’60 Thus, one notes that the positive affirmation of the possibility of a positive role of a non-Christian religion in the process towards salvation does not entail an automatic affirmation of all elements of every non-Christian religion. When comparing this to Barth’s approach, a number of questions arise. Firstly, we have to return to the criticism raised by von Balthasar towards Rahner’s starting point in the theological endeavour. Barth’s position on this topic in connection with religion is explained in the first section of §17 of Church Dogmatics.61 Against the development of theology on anything outside revelation, Barth emphasizes that religion has to be interpreted in light of revelation and cannot be built on anything outside revelation. Religion is an issue to be considered within theology because God’s revelation also occurs in the religious sphere; the question for Christian theology can only be whether it takes itself seriously enough to see itself as the starting point62 and subsequently address issues of concern from this perspective, rather than allow itself to be influenced by other sciences or streams of thought. Barth and von Balthasar pursue a common cause in this matter, as von Balthasar also Gavin D’Costa, ‘Christian Orthodoxy and Religious Pluralism – A Response to Terrence W. Tilley,’ Modern Theology 23:3 (July 2007), p. 442.  59 Rahner, ‘On the Importance of non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, p. 294.  60 Rahner, ‘Jesus Christ in the non-Christian Religions,’ TI 17, p. 41.  61 See here Chapter 2, pp. 55–60.  62 Compare here particularly CD I/2, p. 283, KD I/2, p. 308.  58



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urges the Christian to start the conversation with the non-Christian when the Christian ‘does not put the content of his faith in parentheses; he does not water it down to a bland and shallow humanism, but accepts the responsibility for it and represents it with the grace of God in the situation of his mission.’63 Assigning religion too central a position in the development of a Christian understanding of the non-Christian other should therefore not distract from the value of the Christian Gospel itself. Secondly, it seems notable that Barth explicitly rejects a ‘classification’ of different religions, which we already discussed in Chapter 2, pp. 60–67. The refusal to find criteria, ‘which [one] can then use as a gauge to weigh and balance one human thing against another, distinguishing the “higher” religion from the “lower”,’64 led Barth to responding critically to Nostra Aetate, the Declaration on the Relationship of the Church to non-Christian religions from the Second Vatican Council. In that context, Barth asked: ‘On what grounds does the Declaration (2ff.) continue the distinction, long since outgrown in the study of comparative religion, between the so-called “higher religions” and the primitive religions, when the opposition of the former to the message of the cross is much more obvious and dangerous?’65 Certainly, one might ask whether this is a weakness of Barth’s approach. Against the background of Rahner’s approach as has been outlined, the issue goes beyond this. In general, it has to be noted that the question of the importance of non-Christian religions for salvation – or any religion for that matter – is not a question per se that Barth would consider worthwhile pursuing. This requires an immediate qualification: The question is not whether mere adherence to a non-Christian religion as such is effective for salvation – this would result in a pluralist position, and neither Barth nor Rahner would subscribe to this point of view. However, there is a subtle, but crucial distinction to be made. In Rahner’s words, the issue at stake is whether ‘even a person whom the historical message of Christianity has not reached, even an atheist, can be without fault and thus touched (“in ways known to God”) by God’s redeeming grace, can have a salvific faith in the proper sense of the term and so gain

Von Balthasar, The Moment of Christian Witness, p. 126. CD I/2, p. 298; KD I/2, p. 324. Barth, Ad Limina Apostolorum, p. 36.

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salvation.’66 In the light of this, the difference of the mode of emphasis in the two approaches becomes apparent: Whereas Barth would stress the question of the possibility of God’s salvific will being executed, Rahner’s analysis aims at finding an answer to the question of whether someone can have a salvific faith (see the emphasis in the quote above) outside the encounter with the Christian religion. This difference is probably most clearly described in the following quote where Barth is invited to clarify his position on the universal character of grace. To this Barth responds: ‘the grace of God is promised (verheißen) to all humans, one can say it this way, in fact one has to say it that way: “good news of great joy for λαός, for all the people” (Lk 2.10). In that regard: everyone! However, of course, one cannot just assume that everyone simply has grace.’67 Asked to clarify his position, Barth responds directly to a question concerning the salvation of someone in a remote area who has not been encountered explicitly by the Gospel. Interestingly, Barth answers as follows: ‘God is certainly graciously disposed towards this person, let us put it like this. And the promise is also valid for him. Who knows whether it might be true in a particular way of such a maroon (Buschneger).’68 And Barth continues with direct reference to Rahner: ‘However, of course one cannot just speak of an anonymous Christianity of this maroon. That is not working. That is what my Catholic friend in Münster is doing, the mighty Rahner; he is now preaching something like Richard Rothe, such an anonymous Christianity where the whole world is already in a way completely Christianized. No, no, not like that.’69 As polemical and to an extent also as oversimplified as this assessment might be – it speaks to the heart of Barth’s approach to the non-Christian other. Christians are not called to declare anyone an anonymous Christian on humanly noticeable categories. Barth’s refusal to do so can be seen as a warning to Rahner not to appoint oneself as judge in categories whose only authority is God in God’s sovereignty. Nonetheless we are faced with the question of whether the dismissal of religion as a category by Barth really is justified. Adversely, one would have to agree with Rahner that completely ignoring the religious dimension of a Rahner, ‘On the Importance of non-Christian Religions for Salvation,’ TI 18, p. 290. Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Wuppertaler Studenten,’ p. 520.  68 Ibid.  69 Ibid.  66  67



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person’s social and historical situation seems unrealistic and certainly not helpful. However, as was argued in Chapter 2, pp. 55–60, the argument for religion-less Christianity that completely dismisses religion as such is not what Barth has in mind. Instead, it has to be emphasized that the positive character of religion will not be due to the fact that it is religion. This is crucial to remember – the revelation of God can uplift and sustain the Christian religion; the merit, however, will only be due to God’s activity, and the human being engaged in religious activity has to remember that he or she will always be responding to God’s grace. Additionally, and more positively, one is now in a position to see some of the advantages of Barth’s approach. Putting it succinctly, one might ask of Rahner’s methodology in the light of Barth’s approach: Does giving religion such a central role really facilitate the understanding of the non-Christian? It has been the purpose of this section to show that, as soon as one acknowledges religion a role to play, one will have to ask more questions than one can possibly answer. Classifying religions into higher and lower religions or calling some religions closer to Christianity than others does not make matters easier; in fact, I would argue that the opposite is the case. Instead, by calling all religious activity, including – and this is absolutely crucial – the Christian one, ‘unbelief,’ Barth establishes a horizontal rather than vertical distinction: The core distinction has to be drawn between God and the human being, rather than between the Christian and the non-Christian. Barth aptly said that the ‘Christian religion’ is ‘only a particular instance of the universal which is called religion.’70 This is combined with the emphasis that ‘the elements and problems in the basic outlook of all religions [are] the same as those of Christian doctrine: the world’s beginning and end, the origin and nature of man, moral and religious law, sin and redemption.’71 The decisive factor can therefore not be the level of religiosity or the adherence to a particular religion rather than another; instead, through the horizontal differentiation between God and the human being, Barth’s theology can be used successfully to use Jesus Christ as the starting point, and not by calling one religion a priori closer or further away from the Christian one than another.

CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306. CD I/2, p. 282. KD I/2, p. 307.

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Thirdly and finally, this dismissal of religion as being a relevant aspect in the theology of the non-Christian also forms an important factor as it puts the question of mission into the right perspective. This can be illustrated by the reference to mission in the context of Barth’s assessment of the anonymous Christian. Barth maintains that in light of the proclamation of God’s grace to all people, ‘we would encounter the problem of mission here. This is the task of mission, to tell all people: God’s grace is turned towards you, promised to you; you are allowed to receive it, and receive it in freedom (as grace can only be received in freedom!), grace concerns you.’72 Without any further qualification, this is Barth’s understanding of mission to all of humanity. How this becomes a core characteristic of the Christian Church as well as the Christian individual will be a topic in the following section when discussing the partnership between God and the human.

Theological anthropology As was already touched upon in the previous two sections, it would be safe to argue that Rahner grants the human being a greater role in the question of revelation, which is also reflected in the more positive evaluation of religion. The question arises, thus, how Rahner formulates his theological anthropology and how he understands the human being. In this section, we will be addressing this question, including revisiting the discussion of Rahner’s concept of the anonymous Christian as it arises out of the concern for the human being and his or her relationship to God. Before addressing the question of the anonymous Christian, a brief note is necessary about the character of Rahner’s theological anthropology. Similarly to Barth’s argument, Rahner distinguishes theological anthropology from other forms of anthropology: ‘Christian anthropology, if it interprets itself properly, is not one “limited” human science among others … it actually bursts these secular anthropologies radically apart, thereby making access possible, for the first time and finally, to the one mystery which we call God.’73 Basing this theological anthropology on revelation and this link to

Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Wuppertaler Studenten,’ p. 520. Rahner, ‘The Theological Dimension of the Question about Man,’ TI 17, pp. 53–70 (57).

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God, Rahner maintains that ‘man is essentially the historical being for whom divine revelation and salvation are encountered through his specific history.’74 There is, however, a substantial difference to Barth’s theological anthropology. Barth continuously points to Jesus Christ as the paradigmatic human being: ‘The final and last word about God but also about man is spoken in Him [Jesus Christ]. Whoever hears this word, knows man – NB: not only himself, personally, but together with knowing himself, also his fellow human being who might not hear this word yet or not yet accurately – everybody, all human beings, man in and of himself.’75 By contrast, Rahner introduces what he calls the ‘radical’ form of theological anthropology where ‘man is to be understood as the being who … is always and everywhere inescapably endowed with God’s self-communication – the Holy Spirit of grace.’76 Furthermore, it leads Rahner to argue in his implications of such an understanding of theological anthropology that ‘Christian teaching [can] start unabashedly with man, with his experience of himself, with his existence.’77 We are here close again to the Spirit-based argument that formed a basis characteristic at the beginning of our outline of inclusivism and the transcendental experience that played a role in the section on revelation already. In general, the question that has to be put towards this theological system with renewed urgency in this context can be summarized as follows: ‘If the concrete human being’s basic transcendental experience … is to be seen in a Christological dimension, and if it stands in a relation of tension to the a posteriori historical experiences of the human of himself … and if those historical experiences can be of both a “worldly” nature as well as come from the historical revelation, how then can this basic experience constitute itself as dimension of the whole of dogmatic theology?’78 We will return to different aspects of this question throughout this section. In contrast to Barth, Rahner allows the human being to play a more significant role in the proclamation of the Christian message, building on the fundamental assumption that ‘what is preached from the outside has been

Rahner, ‘The Theological Dimension of the Question about Man,’ TI 17, p. 63. Das Christliche Leben, p. 28. Rahner, ‘The Theological Dimension of the Question about Man,’ TI 17, p. 65.  77 Rahner, ‘The Theological Dimension of the Question about Man,’ TI 17, p. 67.  78 Edgar Herbert Friedmann OSB, Christologie und Anthropologie – Methode und Bedeutung der Lehre vom Menschen in der Theologie Karl Barths (Münsterschwarzbach: Vier-Türme-Verlag Münsterschwarzbach, 1972), p. 340.  74  75  76

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present as a reality in every man and woman, long before our preaching.’79 While we will return to the question of proclamation using Barth’s approach again in the conclusion to this chapter, it seems obvious that this stands in sharp contrast to Barth in two distinct ways: First, Barth would not assume an already present awareness of God in every human being – while this could undoubtedly be called a form of divine a priori, the focus of Barth’s theology remains what can be known about God, as God has been revealed in Jesus Christ and the Scriptures. We are reminded that Barth reacted negatively to an assumption that presupposes a divine foreknowledge in the human being as a starting point to pursuing theological anthropology.80 Similarly to the refusal of a human point of contact, Barth stresses in this context the human sinfulness as barrier to being able to come to the knowledge of God independent from the divine initiative, ‘as our human will is not merely a will that is creaturely weak and one that, through sin, is weakened even further; but because our will is wrong-headed and fundamentally (von Grunde aus) incapable of coming to a knowledge of God as well as being obedient to Him – [this is why] the similitudo Dei has to be gifted to us in every single moment as something heavenly new.’81 The starting point for revelation in Barth’s theology can only be the divine initiative. Secondly, the approach of theological anthropology will differ insofar as Barth assigns it a subordinate role in his overall theological thought. In Barth, theological anthropology has the task to explicate ‘the knowledge of man which is made possible and needful by the fact that man stands in the light of the Word of God. The Word of God is thus its foundation. We hasten to add that for this very reason it expounds the truth about man.’82 Building this anthropology on divine revelation results in Barth’s case in the discussion of the human being – but only after the proper discussion of the divine. Von Balthasar is critical of the strongly anthropological starting point of Rahner’s work: ‘anyone who says he is pursuing “theology as anthropology” is saying

Rahner, ‘The Theological Dimension of the Question about Man,’ TI 17, p. 68. Compare Barth, ‘Polemisches Nachwort,’ pp. 44–56. Karl Barth, ‘Schicksal und Idee in der Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–1930 (GA III.24), pp.  344–92 (366). Compare also the translation H. Martin Rumscheidt (ed.) The Way of Theology in Karl Barth – Essays and Comments (trans. George Hunsinger; intro. Stephen W. Sykes; Allison Park, PA: Pickwick Publications, 1986), p. 41.  82 CD III/2, p. 20; KD III/2, p. 21.  79  80  81



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that every statement made about God in this study is also, in the same way, said of man … anyone who speaks of “anonymous Christians” cannot avoid (nor doubtless would he want to) the conclusion that there is ultimately no difference between Christians who are such by name and Christians who are not.’83 The question arises, thus, to what extent the human being should be seen in the light of God, or vice versa, to what extent God should be seen in the light of the human being. Here, we can now turn again to the question of the anonymous Christian. Rahner draws a distinction between anonymous and implicit faith, which is of central importance when trying to understand the concept of anonymity. When speaking about the anonymous dimension of faith, Rahner refers to a faith that ‘on the one hand is necessary and effective for salvation (under the general conditions which are required for justification and final salvation; i.e. hope and the love of God and neighbour) and on the other hand occurs without an explicit and conscious relationship (i.e. conceptual and verbal and thus objectively constituted) to the revelation of Jesus Christ contained in the Old and/or New Testament.’84 When addressing anonymous faith in the broad area of theological anthropology, the following aspect becomes important: Rahner maintains the possibility of such an anonymous faith by humanly visible standards. However, Rahner continues by arguing that such ‘mere “good will” based on a purely natural knowledge of God is by itself quite inadequate for salvation and justification,’85 thus raising the question of what else is required. The argument of the individual to move beyond this anonymous faith towards explicit faith is instructive here: ‘it is not possible to have “anonymous faith” when its thematic expression in the Christian belief in revelation is culpably rejected.’86 We will need to return to this again in the context of justification, yet here the emphasis has to be put on the fact that Rahner never encourages anonymous faith as such – at no point should the individual consider it as sufficient to remain in ‘anonymity.’ This seems intuitive if one considers that the basic precondition for anonymous faith consists in not having been encountered by Christian revelation as such. The Von Balthasar, The Moment of Christian Witness, p. 120. Rahner, ‘Anonymous and Explicit Faith,’ TI 16, pp. 52–59 (52).  85 Rahner, ‘Anonymous and Explicit Faith,’ TI 16, p. 53.  86 Rahner, ‘Anonymous and Explicit Faith,’ TI 16, pp. 58–59.  83  84

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individual who knows of his or her anonymous faith will therefore always have had an opportunity to hear the call of the Gospel. Consequently, Rahner’s argument for the anonymous Christian and anonymous faith also belongs to the Christian community as such. It can be considered as a call to support missionary activity, but also as an internal encouragement to the Christian community to move out of anonymity and towards active participation in the Church. Overall, Rahner’s argument about the different ways of Church membership and the requirements to move beyond anonymous faith might at first seem strange to a Protestant observer and from Barth’s perspective. When putting aside the differences regarding denominational affiliation, we can nonetheless use Rahner’s demand for active participation in the Church as a helpful illustration of two points made about Barth. On the one hand, it sheds more light on the argument made in the context of Barth’s assessment of the Christian religion, where we argued for Barth’s demand of the Christian Church as embodiment of the Christian religion to be the ‘human face’ of revelation. On the other hand, we can also use Rahner’s argument to give further substance to Barth’s invitation to be the active covenant partner of God and live out his or her calling to be God’s partner. We will look at each of these interrelated points in turn. First, the demand to become a visible part of the Church is a common cause for both Barth and Rahner. Rahner develops his thought on the anonymous Christian against the background that faith becomes of less and less importance in the individual’s life.87 This is certainly as true at the time of Rahner as it is in the early twenty-first century. Linked to this is also Rahner’s understanding of the Church as being a necessary means for salvation, a topic which we addressed already above in the section on religion (pp. 149–56). Here, it is important to stress once more that Rahner distinguishes between ‘the real necessity of strict membership of the Church for salvation and grace [and] the possibility of justification and salvation for those who through no fault of their own do not belong to the church as members in the strict and fullest sense.’88 The emphasis here illustrates that participation in the Church is very much Compare for this e.g. Rahner, ‘Christianity’s Absolute Claim,’ TI 21, especially pp. 171–74. Rahner, ‘Membership of the Church according to the teaching of Pius XII’s Encyclical “Mystici Corporis Christi”,’ TI 2, p. 65, my emphasis.

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necessary and playing no part at all in the fulfilment of the commission given to the Church does not seem to be a viable option.89 The theological reasoning behind stepping out of anonymity can thereby be summarized as follows: ‘God – as the Maker of “heaven” and “earth,” the internal and the external, as Maker of all the dimensions of being and possibilities of being of the human – wants to be present, one has to put it this way, as the God of salvation in all of these dimensions of the human. Thus, not only in this most hidden personal core of the human, but also in his embodiment (Leiblichkeit), also in … simply each of his deeds.’90 That this is a concern for Rahner can be seen not only in the individual being called to be an active part of the Church, but also in Rahner’s commitment to understanding the Church as being commissioned to bring salvation to the world.91 Those proposing otherwise ‘take a course which leads to an elimination of Christianity … they constitute that which, in the traditional terminology, should be called apostasy.’92 A mere commitment to loving one’s neighbour cannot be the all-encompassing task of the Church: ‘even a Christianity that is radically aware of its responsibility for the world should still pray, still pursue theology, still rejoice in God and his peace, thank God and praise him.’93 A similar argument can be made about the implications of Barth’s call to the Church to be the ‘human face’ of revelation. In contrast to Rahner, this is a direct result of his starting point in revelation. Barth argues: ‘we would have to deny revelation as such if we tried to deny that it is also Christianity (Christentum), that it has this human face (menschliche Gesicht), that from this standpoint it can be compared with other human things.’94 As has already been argued in Chapter 2, pp. 55–60, Barth does not pursue an argument for the complete dismissal of religion: ‘If we are going to know and acknowledge the revelation of God as revelation, then there is this general human element which See Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christianity and the Missionary Task of the Church,’ TI 12, pp. 161–78. See also the following paragraph below. Anita Röper, Die anonymen Christen (Mainz: Matthias-Grünewald Verlag, 1963), pp. 152–53.  91 Rahner, ‘The Church’s Commission to bring Salvation and the Humanization of the World,’ TI 14, pp. 295–313.  92 Rahner, ‘The Church’s Commission to bring Salvation and the Humanization of the World,’ TI 14, p. 295.  93 Rahner, ‘The Church’s Commission to bring Salvation and the Humanization of the World,’ TI 14, p. 310.  94 CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306, For an analysis of the term ‘human face of revelation,’ see Link, ‘Das menschliche Gesicht der Offenbarung,’ pp. 277–302, as well as Chapter 2, pp. 55–60.  89

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we cannot avoid or call by any other name.’95 We will see in the concluding Chapter 7 that this implies in Barth’s case a strong commitment to mission and the proclamation of the Gospel. Importantly, this demand to be visible in the world is a result of the promise given to the Church that she is belonging to God, that her Lord Jesus Christ will indeed be with them ‘until the very end of the world.’96 For this reason, the responsibility of the Church, ‘her profession, her task, her mission [is] to be deemed, comforted and encouraged by Jesus, so to be His witness.’97 The fact that this cannot be done in silence addresses the very core of the self-understanding of the Christian Church: ‘a community that remains silent, who merely remains on the sidelines of history would not be the Christian community.’98 How does this influence Rahner’s and Barth’s devotion to mission? Secondly, and more briefly, the invitation to move beyond the anonymous faith is also reflected in Rahner’s commitment to mission and proclamation of the Gospel. Any thought about the possibility of anonymous Christianity should not distract from the speaking of ‘the universal missionary task of the Church as a right and duty of the Church herself [and] this is taken to include the basic duty of every man to become a Christian in an explicitly ecclesiastical form of Christianity.’99 We see the interrelated character to the first point, when Rahner illustrates this commitment to mission by referring to divine grace and the incarnation, as grace ‘wills to extend itself into all of the dimensions of human life … mission and the missionary actively contribute to this incarnational dynamism of grace.’100 Comparably to this, in Barth, the fundamental determination of the human being is to be found in his or her being in relation with God.101 In the context of mission, this invites – more, even, it demands – the human participation in the covenant that God established in Jesus Christ: ‘Man in covenant with God is not a neutral, white page; he is not an indefinable creature. As God’s partner, he is called to live his life in a

CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306. See Karl Barth, ‘Verheißung und Verantwortung der christlichen Gemeinde im heutigen Zeitgeschehen, 1944,’ in Eine Schweizer Stime: 1938–1945 (Zürich: EVZ, 1945), pp. 307–33 (317–19).  97 Ibid., pp. 323–24.  98 Ibid., p. 324.  99 Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christianity and the Missionary Task of the Church,’ TI 12, p. 161. 100 Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christianity and the Missionary Task of the Church,’ TI 12, p. 176. 101 CD III/2, p. 135; KD III/2, pp. 163–64.  95  96



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certain way.’102 This involves the responsibility towards the world, which has already been outlined above: ‘By helping us to concentrate on the centre of the Christian faith, [Barth’s theology] makes us aware of the wide open space in which God puts all human beings in His Love.’103 Therefore, a central part of this commitment to the world will include the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ as the community of the Church: ‘For it belongs to its nature and situation as the community in the world to be separated from all kinds of religions and religious communities. Its very aim as a missionary community is to call men out of these, to call them from false gods to the true God.’104 This is true in this corporate sense, but also applies to every single individual: ‘That in practice there may be definite circles or unions or societies which initiate missions corresponds to the practical discharge of many other ministries in the Church. But no such society should claim to be a particular missionary community composed of friends of missionary work. For this work cannot be their own special preserve. The rest of the community is not to be released even in appearance from the missionary obligation laid upon it in its totality.’105 Thus, in both Barth and Rahner, in order to live according to the image of God common to all human beings, the individual is called to faith in Jesus Christ, and to proclaim this faith to the world around them.

Soteriology As in previous parts, for reasons of brevity, this section will compare and contrast Rahner’s and Barth’s approach to the question of soteriology paying particular attention here to the question of salvation of the non-Christian, as well as that of universal salvation in both writers. Throughout the previous parts of this chapter, it has become apparent that any salvific importance in both Barth and Rahner will only concur in relation to Jesus Christ. Indeed, as one of the two tenets of inclusivism states, the work of Christ is binding and necessary for salvation. However, with everything that has been said about the anonymous Christian in Rahner’s Krötke, ‘Gott und Mensch als “Partner”,’ p. 112. Ibid., p. 119. 104 CD IV/1, p. 671; KD IV/1, p. 749. 105 CD IV/3.2, p. 875; KD IV/3.2, p. 1003. 102 103

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thought, the question arises whether Rahner can be seen as a proponent of universal salvation or whether his argument at least leads in this direction. We do well here to remember what brought Rahner to engage with the thought about the anonymous Christian, as it points implicitly to his understanding of soteriology. While Rahner’s approach to the question of salvation is one more of an eschatological nature, he argues strongly against the possibility that a Christian should believe and act as if ‘the overwhelming mass of his brothers, not only those before the appearance of Christ right back to the most distant past … but also those of the present and of the future before us, are unquestionably and in principle excluded from the fulfillment of their lives and condemned to eternal meaninglessness.’106 He continues: ‘He must reject any such suggestion, and his faith is itself in agreement with doing so.’107 To what extent does this approach reflect a universalist position? Rahner engages with the fact that with his emphasis on the anonymous Christian a preference towards universal salvation might be tangible in the article ‘The One Christ and the Universality of Salvation.’108 Here, Rahner turns to the question of salvation being possible only through the redeeming work of Jesus and linking this with the reality of human beings not having been encountered by the Gospel. The nature of universal salvation in Rahner’s case is thereby defined as follows: ‘salvation here is understood as the strictly supernatural and direct presence of God in himself afforded by grace … the direct “vision” of God is the only salvation for all men.’109 A distinction has to be drawn in the following between the actual assertion that this is indeed affirmed as a reality and the hope that this might indeed be the case. With regard to the reality of such a proposition in view of cases such as those who die as infants, Rahner cautions that ‘we are entirely ignorant of their fate … the significance of this is to indicate the limits of any theological proposition about the universal possibility of salvation.’110 However, Rahner is more positive about the hope that God might indeed choose to save all of humanity

Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ TI 6, p. 391. Ibid. 108 Rahner, ‘The One Christ and the Universality of Salvation,’ TI 16, pp. 199–224. 109 Rahner, ‘The One Christ and the Universality of Salvation,’ TI 16, p. 200. 110 Rahner, ‘The One Christ and the Universality of Salvation,’ TI 16, p. 201. 106

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as illustrated by his insistence on ‘the universal salvific will of God’s love and omnipotence.’111 Thus could it be argued that everyone according to Rahner is saved? Rahner rejects this notion in some of his more general observations about anonymous faith. Rahner argues: ‘if during his life a person is offered, in a manner which is credible to him, the chance to give objective structure and shape to his being (…), and if he rejects this possibility, then he is deliberately denying his grace-filled transcendence as well. It is not possible to have “anonymous faith” when its thematic expression in the Christian belief in revelation is culpably rejected.’112 There is therefore the possibility that the fate of eternal rejection might become a reality for some. As it was argued above in the section on revelation (pp. 149–56), there is no ground to be won here by adding a human component to the working out of salvation.113 According to Rahner, ‘we must maintain side by side and unwaveringly the truth of the omnipotence of the universal salvific will of God, the redemption of all by Christ, the duty of all men to hope for salvation and also the true possibility of eternal loss.’114 One can note an interesting parallel to Barth’s conclusion on the question of eternal salvation and a similarity to the pastoral approach that was detected there, when Rahner continues this statement by arguing: ‘the emphasis on the possibility of hell as perpetual obduracy must be paralleled by insistent encouragement to rely with confidence on the infinite mercy of God.’115 Therefore, while Rahner does not confirm a universalist position, he does nonetheless encourage the hope in this universal salvific will of God.116 When comparing this to Barth’s approach, one finds substantial common ground. Whereas the precise definition of salvation might be varied in both Rahner, ‘Anonymous Christians,’ TI 6, p. 391. Rahner, ‘Anonymous and Explicit Faith,’ TI 16, pp. 58–59, my emphasis. On this, see Morwenna Ludlow, Universal Salvation – Eschatology in the thought of Gregory of Nyssa and Karl Rahner (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 176–78. 114 Karl Rahner, ‘Hell,’ in Karl Rahner (ed.), Sacramentum Mundi – An Encyclopedia of Theology Vol. 3 (London: Burns & Oates, 1969), pp. 7–9 (8). 115 Ibid. 116 Compare also Rahner’s position as quoted in Ludlow, Universal Salvation, p. 143, n. 51: ‘Even if … humanity were to fall into the abyss, then I would still be firmly convinced … that even such an abyss always ultimately ends in the arms of an eternally good, eternally powerful God. I Remember, 111, cited in Vorgrimler, Understanding Karl Rahner, 129.’ The two books referenced in this note are the interview by Karl Rahner, I Remember: An Autobiographical Interview with Meinold Krauss (trans. Harvey D. Egan, S. J.; London: SCM Press, 1985) and Herbert Vorgrimler, Understanding Karl Rahner: An Introduction to his Life and Thought (trans. John Bowden; London: SCM Press, 1986). 111 112 113

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writers and the roads to this understanding of salvation might be different, what unites Barth and Rahner is that both arrive at a position that could be called ‘universalism,’ despite their refusal to explicitly adhere to such a position. The difference might be illustrated by using the following quote from Barth to which Barth and Rahner might possibly subscribe: ‘How does it stand in detail with creatures which will and must demonstrate and express their freedom without the knowledge of Jesus Christ, without enlightenment by the Easter event, and therefore without realising that their reconciliation with God is accomplished? Jesus Christ has died and risen again for them too. He is their Lord and Head and Saviour too. In Him they, too, are reconciled to God. His Word comes to them too … Meaning and future are given to their aspirations and strivings. They, too, may express their freedom as reconciled creatures.’117 In Barth’s case, this position is firmly rooted in the election of Jesus Christ; the human being has the possibility to opt out of this, yet it is not human freedom to do so. This statement for a universal destiny of humanity is something entirely derived from a statement about God’s action and character. By contrast, in Rahner’s case, this universalism is rooted in Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection, yet also in the existence of saving faith in the human being – anonymous, or explicit. Both can be criticized on a number of accounts: Barth for his relative agnosticism that refuses to speculate regarding the possibility of a negative outcome of election, while Rahner might be criticized, as in previous sections, for the positive view of human nature and rooting salvation not only in God, but also in a human aspect. Nonetheless, as was the case when addressing universalism in Barth in Chapter 4, we do well to heed the warning issued by Trevor Hart with regard to the denial of the possibility of universalism: ‘Occasionally, one is given the impression that some Christians will be disappointed if, in spite of everything, God does indeed choose to “save” all in spite of their rejection of him; as if they themselves will somehow have been robbed or upstaged were this to happen. Perhaps there is something of the elder brother in Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son in all of us.’118

CD IV/3.1, p. 337, KD IV/3.1, p. 389. Trevor Hart, ‘Universalism: Two Distinct Types,’ in Nigel M. de S. Cameron (ed.), Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell – Papers presented at the Fourth Edinburgh Conference in Christian Dogmatics (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1993), pp. 1–34 (34). One might take this argument one step further and compare it to the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Mt. 20).

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Conclusion In this chapter, I put Barth’s theological thought into conversation with the work of the most prominent proponent of the inclusivist paradigm, Karl Rahner. As was to be expected, there is a range of methodological differences in a number of areas. Most notably, I argued that Rahner represents a more positive attitude towards the natural knowledge of God as well as a more optimistic evaluation of religion as such. Furthermore, Rahner expresses an interest in granting the human being a more central role not only in theology as such, but also when considering the human being’s quest towards salvation. These differences should not distract from some essential areas of convergence between both thinkers. Without re-rehearsing these in detail, I want to highlight for example that engaging Barth on the level of religion from Rahner’s perspective highlighted that Barth needs to be read carefully in this area and not be misunderstood as granting religion as such no importance at all or giving unqualified support to the Christian religion. To put it polemically, if God might be able to speak through a dead dog, refusing God the possibility to speak through a non-Christian religion would seem internally inconsistent and, as it has been argued, would be a way to misrepresent Barth. Additionally, Rahner’s insistence on taking the religious dimension of the individual’s life into account serves as a reminder that a complete denial of the importance of religion seems unjustified and has to be understood correctly in Barth’s theology. However, together with these points, the comparison of the two different approaches to theological anthropology, as well as the positions on soteriology and particularly universalism, raise one of the central questions to which we will return in the concluding Chapter 7: How central a role can and should the human being be given in ‘working out their salvation’? More precisely still, how does this impact the Church’s proclamation of the Gospel and leading people to faith in Jesus Christ? We will turn to these questions after engaging Barth’s thought with the pluralist paradigm.

6

Engaging the Pluralist Paradigm– John Hick as Question and Challenge to Karl Barth

Having engaged with Karl Rahner in the previous chapter, we are now turning to another way of approaching the Christian engagement with other religions. Religious pluralism, the position where ‘all religions are equal and valid paths to the one divine reality and Christ is one revelation among many equally important revelations,’1 is a distinct school of thought in the theology of religions whose earliest advocate is Ernst Troeltsch.2 Here, we reach the very boundaries of a dialogical engagement with Barth’s position as outlined in the first four chapters. On the one hand, it will become apparent that there is little common ground between Barth’s understanding of the non-Christian and the pluralist approach. Thus, despite some transient points of contact between Barth and John Hick, who will function as the main conversation partner here, we will also encounter some deep dissonances, the latter being probably most notable in the fact that there is a diminished role given to revelation and the divine in general in the pluralist approach. However, on the other hand, I will argue that Barth’s theology can be used constructively in some specific areas to answer the demands of religious pluralism. In order to do so, the chapter will be structured as follows: After a brief outline of the pluralist paradigm (pp. 178–89), I will establish a dialogue between Barth and the pluralist paradigm (pp. 189–208), resulting in a final conclusion (pp. 209–11) that highlights how Barth’s theology answers a number of the demands of pluralism.

D’Costa, ‘Christian Theology and Other Faiths,’ p. 292. Victoria S. Harrison, Religion and Modern Thought (London: SCM Press, 2007), p. 205.

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Outline of the pluralist paradigm The pluralist approach to non-Christian religions here ‘does not signify the fact of religious diversity but refers to a specific option within the Christian theology of religions and to analogous options within the respective discourse of other religious traditions.’3 What are some of the core characteristics of this approach to other religions? When we engaged with Karl Rahner’s inclusivism in Chapter 5, it was already argued that pluralism is located at greater distance from exclusivism than inclusivism. Indeed, as D’Costa argues: ‘the pluralist paradigm has been characterized as one that maintains that other religions are equally salvific paths to the one God, and Christianity’s claim that it is the only path (exclusivism) or the fulfilment of other paths (inclusivism), should be rejected for good theological and phenomenological reasons.’4 At the core of religious pluralism is thus the belief that religions are different roads to the divine reality. This speaks to the very heart of the thought of Hick, our primary conversation partner in this chapter.5 Key to understanding religious pluralism is what Hick referred to as the ‘Copernican Revolution’ of theology, evident for the first time in Hick’s God and the Universe of Faiths.6 Hick reacts against ‘Ptolemaic theology,’ a theology ‘whose fixed point is the principle that outside the church, or outside Christianity, there is no salvation.’7 The designation of Ptolemaic theology in this form applies to both the Roman Catholic Church as well as the Protestant churches. The Protestant churches, although not expressing this view in a formal way like the Roman Catholic Church, argues for this point and ‘this note is to be heard not only in older missionary statements but Perry Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Pluralisms: How to Appreciate Religious Diversity Theologically,’ in Race and Hedges (eds), Christian Approaches to Other Faiths (London: SCM Press, 2008), pp. 85–110 (85).   4 Gavin D’Costa, Theology and Religious Pluralism – The Challenge of Other Religions (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986), p. 22.   5 It is also important to stress here that John Hick is chosen in part because of his historical importance to the pluralist paradigm. This is not to say that we are also referring to other pluralist thinkers (in the broadest sense). Finally, a brief note is necessary on the way Hick’s thought is approached here. While I will point occasionally to the time before the Copernican Revolution in Hick’s thought, it is not my intention here to assess the changes in Hick’s thought, apart from acknowledging the shift from the God-centredness to centring subsequently on the Real in order to take into account non-theistic religions as well.   6 John Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths (London: Font Paperbacks, 1977).   7 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 125.   3



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also in declarations made within very recent years from the fundamentalist evangelical groups.’8 Hick employs for his redefinitions the term epicycle ‘because they are so powerfully reminiscent of epicycles that were added to the old Ptolemaic picture of the universe, with the earth at the centre, to accommodate increasingly accurate knowledge of the planets.’9 Similarly to the Copernican Revolution in astronomy, Hick now seeks to find a Copernican Revolution in the theology of religions. Such a revolution involves, according to Hick, ‘an equally radical transformation in our conception of the universe of faiths and the place of our own religion within it. It involves a shift from the dogma that Christianity is at the centre to the realisation that it is God who is at the centre, and that all religions of mankind, including our own, serve and revolve around him.’10 Hick commends various attempts at being accommodating to other faiths, yet they all remain ultimately Ptolemaic. By contrast, Hick builds on ‘the need for a more sophisticated, comprehensive and globally valid theory.’11 To which extent this translates into just another form of the Ptolemaic view with the pluralist paradigm at the centre, and further aspects of this theory will be examined in this chapter. One final introductory comment is necessary at this point: The majority of the points that are highlighted throughout this section concern different areas simultaneously. Just as Barth’s emphasis on revelation as starting point for doing theology (see Chapter 1) impacts all other areas of his theology such as his theological anthropology (see Chapter 3), there are noticeable areas that overlap and impact each other when examining Hick’s pluralism. For example, what is said on Hick’s anthropology is impacted by his dismissal of revelation, or similarly, the shift to Real will lead Hick to equate salvation and liberation. In this sense, the different parts of the argument will have to be read closely together.

Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 121. Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 124.  10 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 131.  11 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 132. For more on the ‘global theory’ of theology, see also below.   8   9

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The heritage Hick builds his argument for religious pluralism primarily on two thinkers: Immanuel Kant and Ernst Troeltsch. While an in-depth engagement with both of these thinkers would lead too far here, we can point to some aspects in each of them that represent a precursor to Hick’s development of the pluralist paradigm. It should also be pointed out that in significant ways, Hick departs from both thinkers, as he himself affirmed. Central to Hick’s thought is undoubtedly the philosophical work of Kant.12 Already the language of ‘Copernican Revolution’ points to an intimate connection between the two thinkers. Of particular interest is Hick’s indebtedness to Kant’s epistemology. When outlining his understanding of the pluralist hypothesis, Hick builds on this epistemological model and the difference between noumenon and phenomenon, i.e. the Ding an sich and the way this thing appears to the human. It is Hick’s declared goal to ‘press [this strand of Kantian thought] into service in the epistemology of religion, [i.e.] the noumenal world exists independently of our perception of it and the phenomenal world is that same world as it appears to our human consciousness.’13 The move towards this understanding becomes necessary so that the Copernican Revolution which shifted from Christ-centredness to God-centredness can also accommodate non-theistic religions: ‘each of these two basic categories, God and the Absolute, is schematised or made concrete within actual religious experience as a range of particular gods or absolutes. These are, respectively, the personae and the impersonae in terms of which the Real is humanly known.’14 Hick thereby relies on some lines of thought that he had established at an earlier point, e.g. the concept of myth. However, Hick no longer limits the mythical argument on the incarnation, but now expands it on the very idea of the Real itself. It is only an additional step now for Hick to ‘identify the various systems of religious thought as complex myths whose truth or untruth consists in the appropriateness or inappropriateness of the

See among others John Hick, An Interpretation of Religion – Human Responses to the Transcendent (Basingstoke: Macmillan Press, 1989), pp.  240–46; John Hick, Faith and Knowledge (London: Fontana Books, 2nd edn, 1974), pp.  57–68 and, critically, Sinkinson, The Universe of Faiths, pp. 68–84 as well as pp. 85–103.  13 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 241.  14 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 245.  12



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practical dispositions which they tend to evoke.’15 Therefore, the different religious systems collapse into one another, ‘the eastern and western paths constitute different forms of self-transcendence in response to the Real and it may well be that their differing eschatological mythologies serve the same soteriological function.’16 While we will return to the implication for soteriology below, the emphasis on the Real is made in order to include non-theistic religions in the pluralist paradigm, which entails severe ramifications for the Christian understanding of revelation. It means that the combination of the noumenon and phenomenon, the personae and impersonae, forms the basis for Hick’s argument: ‘the divine noumenon is a necessary postulate of the pluralistic religious life of humanity.’17 The reliance on Kant in Hick’s pluralist approach as one of its sources is therefore obvious. A second influence on religious pluralism can be seen in Troeltsch. A representative of Neo-Protestantism, Troeltsch focused his early thought on proving the absolute validity of Christianity as a religion. Firmly set within a historical study of religion, Troeltsch pursues the argument that ‘each religion [corresponds] to some stage in a universal process of spiritual development. But there must also be a highest, ultimate stage that … is the basis of all things.’18 It seems obvious that this is incompatible with Hick’s pluralism. However, the change in Troeltsch that Hick applauds and cites as one of the key background concepts of his own understanding of non-Christian religions19 is the shift to a position that relativizes Christianity as truth for the Western world, ‘but this does not preclude the possibility that other racial groups, living under entirely different cultural conditions, may experience their contact with the Divine Life in quite a different way.’20 For Hick, the understanding of incarnation as myth is representative of this shift, an aspect that will be discussed more Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 353. Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 356, my emphasis. Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 249.  18 Ernst Troeltsch, The Absoluteness of Christianity and the History of Religions (trans. David Reid; London: SCM Press, 1972), p. 54.  19 John Hick, ‘The Non-Absoluteness of Christianity,’ in The Myth of Christian Uniqueness, ed. John Hick and Paul F. Knitter (London: SCM Press, 1988). See also: Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 174.  20 Ernst Troeltsch, Christian Thought – Its History and Application, Lectures Written for Delivery in England During March 1923 (ed. Baron F. von Hügel; London: University of London Press, 1923), p. 26.  15  16  17

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closely momentarily. However, as it will be seen further, this development has also significant implications for the understanding of religion and his approach to anthropology.

The redefinition of revelation The fact that there will be no ‘traditional’ understanding of revelation in Hick is evident from the earliest stages of his development of a pluralist approach to religions. The background to the Copernican Revolution is set when Hick argues that the starting point is no longer the revelation of Jesus of Nazareth, which was still underpinning his thought in his earlier work;21 the starting point now has become ‘religious language.’22 With religious language, Hick refers to the central question and problem for theology and ‘whether distinctively religious utterances are instances of the cognitive or non-cognitive uses of language.’23 Consequently, a number of issues need to be addressed: First, against the immediate background of religious language, an emphasis on divine revelation results in the problem of conflicting truth-claims in different religions. As Peter Byrne argues correctly: ‘Revelation as a method or vehicle of truth seems to be thrown into doubt [by Hick] by the fact that what is asserted by one revealed religion is denied by another. Put very crudely the rationalist’s conclusion is: given that the revealed or positive religions of the world contradict one another at so many points, none is to be trusted.’24 In a number of ways, this is revisiting the debate regarding the starting point in revelation in Barth’s theology that we saw in Chapter 1, ‘Revelation replacing sin?’ (pp. 17–21). Hick argues that the revelation of Christ requires from the believer a response whose ‘absoluteness … has been strongly developed in the doctrine that Christ was uniquely divine, being God the Son incarnate.’25 From there, Hick moves to his exposition of Jesus ‘as the point at which the divine Compare e.g. the following quote from Hick’s The Second Christianity: ‘the central fact, in relation to which all else is judged, remains the person of Jesus of Nazareth.’ John Hick, The Second Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1983), p. 17, my emphasis. This is a reprint with new preface of John Hick, Christianity at the Centre (London: SCM Press, 1968).  22 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. vii.  23 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 1.  24 Peter Byrne, ‘John Hick’s Philosophy of World Religions,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 35:2 (1982), pp. 289–301 (290).  25 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 149. Compare Richard Bauckham’s argument quoted below how this developmental interpretation is insufficient.  21



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Agape has embodied itself in human actions in the midst of earthly history.’26 Related to this, is also the understanding of the incarnation as a myth: Hick starts his argument with the statement: ‘I wish to argue that the language [of the divine incarnation in Jesus of Nazareth] is mythological.’27 Therefore, the incarnation ‘cannot literally apply to Jesus … it expresses the religious significance of Jesus in a way that has proved effective for nearly two millennia. It thus fulfils its function, which is to evoke an appropriate response of faith in Jesus.’28 The Christology that Hick pursues in this context is therefore one that is primarily concerned with mere assessment of the result it has for human faith. Secondly, instead of arguing for a starting point in revelation, Hick puts greater emphasis on soteriological and anthropological aspects. This is achieved by explicitly changing the understanding of revelation. For example, Hick argues: ‘it was natural and intelligible both that Jesus, through whom men had found a decisive encounter with God and a new and better life, should come to be hailed as son of God, and that later this poetry should have hardened into prose.’29 The human perception of revelation is therefore decidedly assumed to bear upon the nature of revelation as such, a point which will be made again in the next point when speaking about understanding the incarnation as myth. For the moment, we only note that revelation is made dependent on the human perception of it: ‘the ultimately Real can only enter our consciousness in the range of forms made possible by our own conceptual systems.’30 Put differently, therefore, the understanding of revelation exhibits a human a priori, leading only a posteriori to an ontological argument – Jesus is ‘granted’ divine status by the human being because of the way human beings have responded to Him and due to their capacities. This hints at the distinction that Hick tries to draw subsequently between the Real an sich and the Real as it is experienced in different contexts.31 It is noteworthy that Hick tries to establish a somewhat neutral vantage point from which he wants to argue that ‘the great world faiths embody different Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 152. Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 165.  28 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 172, emphasis in original.  29 John Hick, ‘Jesus and the World Religions,’ in John Hick (ed.), The Myth of God Incarnate (London: SCM Press, 1977), pp. 167–85 (176), my emphasis.  30 John Hick, The Fifth Dimension – An Exploration of the Spiritual Realm (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 1999), p. 37, my emphasis.  31 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 236.  26  27

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perceptions and conceptions of, and correspondingly different responses to, the Real from within the major variant ways of being human.’32 However, the problem with the distinction between the Real an sich and the Real as experienced lies in the fact that, while it intends to include some religions, especially those without a personal God, this move excludes in fact the Christian belief in a personal God. This is evident in Hick’s emphasis that we cannot know the Real an sich, a claim that is contrary to the Christian belief that Jesus Christ was and is God incarnate,33 and which also entails consequences for the central doctrine of the Trinity.34 We will return to this below when discussing Hick’s understanding of religion and the way he understands soteriology and the human being.

Religion The fact that revelation is assessed on the basis of the human perception thereof leads to the second point, the importance of religion. Within the broad framework of religious pluralism, it is clear that ultimately the difference between the various religious systems should be of no importance, as they all point in different ways to the same ultimate Reality. All religious systems only have legitimacy insofar as the phenomenological dimension of religion is concerned: ‘the Real is so rich in content that it can only be finitely experienced in the various partial and inadequate ways which the history of religions describe.’35 This applies, accordingly, both to the personal36 and impersonal37 forms of religion. The Real an sich, however, remains hidden and unknown; as it will be seen at various later points, this goes against one of the core characteristics of the Christian understanding of God. Furthermore, multiple religious traditions coexist alongside each other; they are all pointers to the same Real, yet due to their constraints, this Real can never be known fully, but only appropriated and interpreted. Distinctions between Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 240. See e.g. Jesus’ claim in Jn 14.9: ‘Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.’  34 For a discussion of this, see e.g. Stephen Williams, ‘The Trinity and “other religions”,’ in Kevin Vanhoozer (ed.), The Trinity in a Pluralistic Age: Theological Essays on Culture and Religion (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1997), pp. 26–40.  35 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 247.  36 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, pp. 252–77.  37 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, pp. 278–96.  32  33



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different religious systems do not matter, as they are only culturally conditioned different forms of pointing to the same Divine Reality. This blurring of the lines between the different religious systems leads Hick to start a thought experiment that foresees what he calls an approach ‘to respond to the new situation by beginning the long-term task of forming a global or human theology.’38 While Hick does not elaborate extensively on this approach,39 he sees this as a way forward where the different world religions coexist alongside one another, in a similar fashion to the way the different Christian denominations exist alongside one another today,40 thus aiming at different approaches, which ‘will not be christian theologies, or islamic theologies, or buddhist theologies, but human theologies, which are not sectional but global in their use of data.’41 There are, however, no more precise characteristics of this approach given by Hick.

Anthropology Linked to this aspect of religion is the introduction of the ‘ethical criterion.’ This is the ‘idea of the spiritual and moral fruits of true as distinguished from merely conventional religion.’42 The criterion that Hick suggests, thus, ‘is the extent to which they [the religions] promote or hinder the great religious aim of salvation/liberation. And by salvation or liberation I suggest that we should mean the realisation of that limitlessly better quality of human existence which comes about in the transition from self-centeredness to Realitycenteredness.’43 The production of such people, called ‘saints’ by Hick, is one Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 106. There are two main sections where Hick elaborates on this idea of a global theology: Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, pp.  103–07 and John Hick, Death and Eternal Life (London: Collins, 1976), pp. 29–34, the latter being more focused on a global theology of death. The epilogue of An Interpretation of Religion also points in this direction, but does not discuss the term explicitly (Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, pp. 377–80).  40 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 106.  41 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 103, my emphasis. All the different theologies here are with a lower case letter to illustrate what Hick has in mind, and, by deduction, he assumes that he is already pursuing such a global theology from a ‘Christian’ point of view in this volume.  42 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 301.  43 John Hick, ‘On Grading Religions,’ Religious Studies 17:4 (December 1981), pp. 451–67 (466–67). This article, released several years before An Interpretation of Religion is interesting because, despite the actually verbatim exposition of the criteria, Hick here still comes to a different conclusion: ‘We can, I suggest, only acknowledge, and indeed rejoice in the fact the Real, the Ultimate, the Divine is known and responded to within each of these vast historical complexes, so that within each of them the gradual transformation of human existence from self-centeredness to Reality-centeredness is taking place’ (p. 467). See the conclusion above for the contrasting point of view.  38  39

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criterion to assess religious traditions. Their existence, however, only, ‘enables us to recognize the great traditions as areas of salvation/liberation, but does not enable us to go on to grade them comparatively.’44 Here, it has to be reiterated that the concern with the human being takes priority over the emphasis on the divine. In fact, one of the explicit goals of Hick’s work is to be ‘allowing human needs to take precedence over theological language.’45 This means that any faith or belief is to be understood as ‘a fundamental expression of human freedom.’46 Pointing back to the Kantian understanding, Hick firmly roots this faith in human capacity: ‘can God be known through his dealings with us in the world which he has made? The question concerns human experience.’47 Certainly, the human dimension of faith has to be asserted, and it serves as a forceful reminder not to ignore this human aspect of religion, a point to which we return in due course. However, as was already noted when discussing revelation, Hick’s approach thereby only states that there is such an experience, but the content or origin of this human aspect is dismissed: ‘it is largely an account of a quality of experience rather than an account of the content of experience.’48 Put differently, Hick asserts this human capacity for ‘encountering the Real’ – yet both sides of this encounter are described in very ambiguous terms. Therefore, from an early stage this understanding of the human being concerns issues related to salvation. This is touching upon different aspects of Hick’s concern with the human being; importantly for the present context, one can detect a concern with the afterlife and ethical implication for the present, at the expense of developing a broader concern with what it means to be human. Hick argues that there is ‘an important shift in theological anthropology from the question of beginnings to the question of ends. It is not what man has come from but what he is going to that is important.’49 While this is stated within the context of a book dealing with ‘death and eternal life,’ it is one of Hick’s concerns to point to the beyond in its vagueness and to argue Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 307. John Hick, God Has Many Names – Britain’s New Religious Pluralism (London: Macmillan Press, 1980), p. 41. There are two editions of this, which are significantly different, one published in the UK and quoted here, the other published in the US (see below).  46 Hick, God Has Many Names – Britain’s New Religious Pluralism, p. 4, my emphasis.  47 Hick, Faith and Knowledge, p. 96, my emphasis.  48 Sinkinson, The Universe of Faiths, p. 66.  49 Hick, Death and Eternal Life, p. 46.  44  45



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simultaneously for the importance of the present: ‘what we need to know is how to live here and now. And it is noticeable that whereas the metaphysical questions about which we can only speculate divide the religion, their basic moral principles unite them.’50 This is similar to the ethical criterion that has been suggested throughout this section with regard to grading religions and receives here the explicit human component.

Soteriology Another feature of Hick’s pluralism is that salvation takes a prominent role in the overall development of his argument. In this section, we will turn to Hick’s definition of salvation and how it impacts his pluralism. First, it has to be noted that the development of the pluralist paradigm as a whole is significantly impacted by a concern for salvation. As was already stated repeatedly throughout the preceding sections, it is evident that Hick struggles significantly with the idea that ‘the majority of human beings are eternally lost.’51 While the soteriological focus is in and of itself certainly part of the theological task, it becomes a problem when it influences other areas of the thought process, as it does, arguably, in Hick’s pluralism. Secondly, and related to this, the question of salvation in Hick is inseparably linked with the issue of religion and the question of the human being and anthropology. This is illustrated for example in the context of the Copernican Revolution when salvation is addressed considering ‘the large majority of the human race who have lived and died up to the present moment have lived either before Christ or outside the borders of Christendom.’52 The issue here is the formula extra ecclesiam nulla salus, considered invalid by Hick as it maintains that ‘God must want all his human children to be related to him through this religion which he has himself founded for us; and then to the final conclusion, drawn in the Roman Catholic dogma “Outside the Church, no Salvation” and its Protestant missionary equivalent “outside Christianity, no salvation.”’53 Hick, The Fifth Dimension, p. 227. Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 122.  52 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 122.  53 John Hick, God Has Many Names (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1982), p. 58. This is the US edition of Hick, God Has Many Names – Britain’s New Religious Pluralism, quoted above in n. 45 and will be abbreviated as God Has Many Names (US).  50  51

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Interestingly, Hick also raises his criticism of the doctrine of the incarnation, which is, as we saw above, the area where Hick demands the most far-reaching changes in order to accommodate his Copernican Revolution and the change from Christ-centredness to God-centredness (and the subsequent shift to Real-centredness). However, Hick still works with a Christian conception of God/the Real by emphasizing the divine salvific love and stressing God’s love. By presupposing this divine characteristic and trying to accommodate different views of this divine characteristic at the same time, circularity arises in Hick’s argument thus becoming a severe hindrance to it being accepted both within and without the Christian community. Hick tries to redeem this by proposing that ‘instead of thinking of religion as existing in mutually exclusive systems, we should see the religious life as a dynamic continuum within which certain major disturbances have from time to time set up new fields of force, of greater or lesser extent, displaying complex relationships of attraction and repulsion, absorption, resistance, and reinforcement.’54 Even the question of salvation/liberation is addressed through a human perspective, diminishing its role and importance by making the human being master of something that can arguably not be discussed without acknowledging a significant role of the divine. This also influences Hick’s commitment to universal salvation. Thirdly, the question becomes even more palpable when framing the discussion of salvation between human freedom and God’s love. A noticeable problem arises with the way Hick presents his case in relation to the Copernican Revolution by arguing that this is ‘an alternative universalist view to this narrow conception of Ptolemaic theology,’55 where the Copernican Revolution is in fact necessary in order not to consign those without a Christian faith to eternal perdition. This turns to the question of universal salvation, an area where Hick engages with Barth’s approach explicitly. In this regard, it seems inevitable to argue that Hick will have to subscribe to universalism unqualifiedly. It is worth noting how Hick arrives at this position against the background which we have already discussed throughout this chapter. Hick establishes the discussion of universal salvation between the two poles of God’s love manifested in his universal salvific will and the freedom John Hick, ‘The Outcome: Dialogue into Truth,’ in John Hick (ed.), Truth and Dialogue – The Relationship between World Religions (London: Sheldon Press, 1974), p. 141. D’Costa, Theology and Religious Pluralism, p. 30, emphasis in original.

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of the human being to choose freely how to respond to this offer of salvation. Within the pluralist framework, it seems obvious that Hick commits himself to a form of universalism that emphasizes God’s love: ‘God’s love is universal in scope, he cannot thus have restricted his saving encounter with humanity. If God is the God of the whole world, we must presume that the whole religious life of mankind is part of a continuous and universal human relationship with him.’56 Therefore, Hick’s argument will lead him to supporting universalism, a point to which we return below in conversation with Barth.

Engaging the pluralist paradigm In the second part of this chapter, we are now turning to an in-depth comparison between Hick and Barth. As will be seen, there are some common points between Hick’s pluralism and Barth’s theology as it has been outlined in Chapters 1 through 4; however, there are also some obvious distinct differences. There is a very basic difficulty engaging Hick with Barth, given the fact that Hick interacted with Barth’s thought explicitly; however, this is not the case in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, we will underline some points of convergence, engaging in part with Hick’s precursors Kant and Troeltsch, while noting that an engagement with these writers from Barth’s perspective will only be useful to some extent as neither of these formulate a Hickian pluralism. Consequently, after some general comments in an introductory part, we will revisit aspects of the pluralist paradigm and see how Barth’s theology can be used to respond to these concerns.

Initial comments It might be of interest here to expand upon an earlier statement about Barth’s theology preceding Hick’s pluralism and the lack of direct interaction between the two thinkers in this direction. Against this, one might argue that, due to Hick’s heritage and his reliance on Kant, Troeltsch and others, Barth’s Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. 101.

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engagement with them could serve as criticism of Hick. However, this is only useful in a limited way: First, it would not take religious pluralism at face value and pay attention to chronological difference. Trevor Hart speaks to this, stating that ‘while the roots of contemporary pluralism lie buried deep in the philosophical soil of a century or more … the pluralistic spirit which holds our age firmly in its grip has manifested itself clearly only in the years since Barth’s death.’57 Put differently, one might argue that aspects of religious pluralism can be criticized using Barth’s engagement with earlier thinkers, yet they would obviously have to be adapted and furthered to meet this goal. Secondly, establishing a historical vantage point always presupposes a consistency and clarity in the interpretation of these thinkers and thus leads to methodological difficulties. Christopher Sinkinson, who argues for Hick’s deep indebtedness to Kant, speaks to this when acknowledging that the lack of specific reference means that ‘Hick belongs to a more general movement of which Kant was, in many ways, the founding figure. They both share a commitment to the common Enlightenment project.’58 Therefore, Hick is more committed to a school of thought than to a person. Reversely, it also has to be noted that Barth’s position on Kant is not as clearly un-Kantian as to serve a counterproposal. For example, Bruce McCormack states with reference to Barth’s earlier theology that ‘however critical Barth may have been of modern theology, it is of utmost importance … to see that dialectical theology in the form in which it was taught by Barth was a thoroughly modern option. It was, after all, only by presupposing the legitimacy of Kantian epistemology that he was enabled to envision the dialectic of veiling and unveiling in God’s self-revelation in the form he did.’59 In this sense, while we will point to some aspects where Barth and Hick would disagree (or even agree), it will have to be read in conjunction with a more explicit counterargument. In summary, one might argue that despite the fact that aspects of the pluralist proposal might be touched upon in some ways by Barth’s critique of Kant and modernity, it cannot be sufficient to rely on this alone. Instead, Hart, ‘Truth, the Trinity and Pluralism,’ p. 117. Sinkinson, The Universe of Faiths, p. 103.  59 McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, p. 466. For the characteristics of revelation, see Chapter 1, pp. 11–17.  57  58



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in this section here and in the conclusion at the end of this chapter, I will argue that Barth’s theology answers some of the questions raised by proponents of pluralism. In what follows, I will shed further light on aspects of an engagement between Barth and Hick, paying particular attention to their understanding of revelation, as it is here where the different starting points become most apparent, and religion, as it is one of the core aspects of the pluralist hypothesis.

Revelation When starting with revelation, it should be noted immediately that there is no commonality between Barth and Hick with regard to Hick’s dismissal of revelation. However, this difference will serve here as an illustration of the opposing starting point when developing their thought systems. To begin this conversation, one of the central points of concern is, arguably, the incarnation and Hick’s understanding of it as myth, but also the shift from a Christ-centredness to a God-centredness, and ultimately a Real-Centredness. Barth speaks to the latter in connection with God the Father. Addressing the question of a move from a personal God to an impersonal deity and its incompatibility with the Christian understanding, Barth argues as follows: In him [God the Father] they [Christians] do not have to do with a final reality of neutral character, whether it be described, conceived, or postulated positively or purely negatively. In him they do not have to do with a ‘He’ that is a mere cipher ascribed with more or less knowledge to an ‘It’ concealed behind it, which is simply a bit of etiquette appended to it with more or less conviction and skill. The Father invoked by Christians is not just called such when deep down and in truth he is no more than an idea or epitome of fatherhood. Deep down and in truth he is really Father. He is thus a speaking and hearing subject, a subject that acts personally.60

No matter whether the incarnation or the personal character of God the Father are denied in the slightest, it will, thus, have an impact upon the foundation of the Christian faith and the idea that Jesus Christ is Lord. Das Christliche Leben, p. 81; The Christian Life, p. 52.

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One should not underestimate this point in its importance, as ‘the unique divine sovereignty is a matter of who God is. Jesus’ participation in the unique divine sovereignty is therefore also not just a matter of what Jesus does, but of who Jesus is in relation to God. Though not primarily a matter of divine nature or being, it emphatically is a matter of divine identity.’61 This responds to the distinction that Hick tries to draw between the Real an sich and the Real as it is experienced in different settings.62 It is noteworthy that Hick tries to establish a somewhat neutral vantage point from which he wants to argue that ‘the great world faiths embody different perceptions and conceptions of, and correspondingly different responses to, the Real from within the major variant ways of being human.’63 However, the problem with this distinction lies in the fact that, while it intends to include some religions, especially those without a personal God, this move excludes in fact the Christian belief in a personal God, as illustrated by the quote from Barth at the start of this section.64 Hick’s argument that we cannot know the Real an sich is a claim that is contrary to the Christian belief that Jesus Christ was and is God incarnate,65 and which also entails consequences for the central doctrine of the Trinity.66 We will return to this below when discussing Hick’s understanding of religion and the way he understands soteriology and the human being. The shift to mythological language when speaking about the incarnation has broader implications for the way theology is undertaken. For Ivor Davidson: The specificity of the human Jesus is reduced to a point of irrelevance, for it is not so much the particular narrative identity of the Jesus of the Christian gospels that matters, but the anthropological, ethical and intellectual convictions of the interpretative process to which his name is annexed Jesus may emerge as … Hickian metaphor of one who functions ‘as if ’ God (or ‘the Real’)

Richard Bauckham, God Crucified – Monotheism & Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1999), p. 41, emphasis in original. Bauckham lucidly argues against the differentiation between ‘functional’ and ‘ontic’ Christology, and suggests instead a Christology of ‘Divine Identity’ where Jesus’ humanity and divinity are inseparably part of the unique identity of God.  62 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 236.  63 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 240.  64 See n. 60 above.  65 See e.g. Jesus’ claim in Jn 14.9: ‘Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.’  66 For a discussion of this, see e.g. Williams, ‘The Trinity and “other religions”,’ pp. 26–40.  61



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for his followers … he is a Gestalt, not an interruption of human thinking, and not one whose fleshly presence is ontologically constitutive of a new reality.67

Consequently, in Hick’s thought, Jesus Christ as revelation of God will have to be replaced by a changed understanding of God as ‘ultimate reality’ to which the different religions are equally valid, ‘human responses.’68 This means that the actual revelation of Jesus Christ loses significance in a tremendous way, as ‘the doctrine [of the incarnation] is concerned with the church’s confession that Jesus Christ is Lord. Because the doctrine of the incarnation is an attempt at a conceptual expansion of the church’s confession, it starts from a given. It is neither an arbitrary nor a constructive exercise, but the following of a reality which precedes and encloses its activity.’69 Barth speaks to this when arguing that ‘the thing that distinguishes the Christian message from this idea [of myth] is that all myths are basically just the exposition of an idea, of a general truth … it always implies a timeless reality. The message of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with this myth; it is formally distinguished from it by its possessing the unique historical conception that … His existence was identical with the existence of God. The Christian message is a historical message.’70 This means that shifting the emphasis on the incarnation or detracting from its centrality will ultimately result in the inability of Christian confession. This is similar to the conflict in the Early Church around the Councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon, and Hick’s mythological language to speak about the incarnation results in the outright denial of the incarnation: ‘The intention behind it [the Chalcedonian formula] was to exclude any understanding of Jesus that denied either his full and authentic deity or his full and authentic humanity. But perhaps this cannot be done! If the formula is such that any spelling out of its meaning will have implications that conflict with one or other of these desiderata, then the formula is a failure.’71 Denying either Jesus’ full divinity (i.e. Ebionitism/Psilanthropism), or Jesus’ full humanity (i.e. Docetism) can, however, only result in the denial of the Christian revelation.72 The problem Ivor Davidson, ‘Theologizing the Human Jesus: An Ancient (and Modern) Approach to Christology Reassessed,’ International Journal of Systematic Theology 3:2 (July 2001), pp. 129–53 (131).  68 Hick, ‘The Non-Absoluteness of Christianity,’ p. 34.  69 John B. Webster, ‘Incarnation,’ in John B. Webster, Word and Church – Essays in Christian Dogmatics (Edinburgh & New York: T&T Clark, 2001), pp. 113–50 (115–16), emphasis in original.  70 Dogmatics in Outline, pp. 59–60; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 79.  71 John Hick, The Metaphor of God Incarnate (London: SCM Press, 1993), p. 45.  72 For a summary of these Christological heresies, see Donald G. Bloesch, Jesus Christ – Saviour & Lord (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1997), pp. 55–61.  67

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for an orthodox Christian acceptance of the move to understanding the incarnation as myth seems therefore obvious. The contrast to Barth’s approach also seems obvious: Barth stresses from an early point in his dogmatic thought the centrality of the incarnation to his doctrine of revelation:73 For Barth, the incarnation is more than a religious phenomenon, although it is certainly this too. In the narrower religious phenomenological way, the revelation of Jesus Christ might be similar to other revelations in the world’s religions. However, the difference is that, for Barth, ‘the counter-determinations (Gegenbestimmungen) of God, and be they ever so deeply against the world (e.g. the “absolute,” the “infinite,” the “transcendent,” the [personal or impersonal] “wholly other”) turn God into an element of worldly evidence, which can be argued by human beings.’74 We are thus dealing here with the issue of trying to domesticate the revelation by remaining at the mere phenomenological level, an issue to which Barth reacts on a number of occasions: First, in reaction to Gerrit Cornelis Berkouwer’s grace principle,75 Barth refuses to have any general principle becoming subject over God’s activity, a point that will be encountered again repeatedly below. God’s decision in the incarnation and taking on flesh ‘forms the climax of God’s use of worldly modes of display and is simultaneously as revelation the utmost veiling of His divinity … But God risks this dangerous path, as human knowledge of revelation is possible only in this way.’76 The incarnation is, thus, not a mere footnote to God’s revelation, but central to it, as we are dealing here with divine intervention in the world, and in the person of Jesus Christ, not with the mere founding of ‘another’ religion.77 Secondly, Barth also warns that, as soon as a principle takes precedence over God’s freedom, there is a danger of the development of ideologies: ‘In place of the recognition of Christ, that is, when this is changed into a principle, there now enters what is called christocentrism. In relation to God, the same process gives us, according to taste and purpose, deism, theism, monotheism,

Compare CD I/2, p. 3; KD I/2, p. 3. W. Krötke, Der Mensch und die Religion nach Karl Barth, p. 10. See Chapter 4 (pp. 130–38), on the question of universalism.  76 Sung Ryul Kim, Gott in und über den Religionen – Auseinandersetzung mit der ‘pluralistischen Religionstheologie’ und das Problem des Synkretismus (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2010), pp. 47–48.  77 Compare Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 240.  73  74  75



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pantheism, or even atheism.’78 In this sense, Hick’s turn to centring on the Real is thus a form of real-centrism that is only ‘another’ form of ideology as it is working as a principle, legislating the way in which God has to operate. This is obvious from the fact that at the core of Hick’s pluralism lies the argument that could be summarized in simplest terms as the approach that ‘any of the traditional approaches (i.e. here of Christianity) is unappreciative of others, and only pluralism offers true openness to other religions.’79 The problem arises though with the pluralist owing the Christian community a convincing argument that this Real is a more applicable and suitable centre than Jesus Christ around which the world of religion should evolve. On the one hand, we are dealing here with an issue that surrounded the Barmen Declaration.80 As one of the drafters of this document, Barth argued against the position that other facts are accepted as revelation alongside the Word of God.81 At the most basic level, Hick’s position that arose in the context of the ‘multi-faith city of Birmingham’82 is an example of personal experience being allowed to take precedence over the revelation in Jesus Christ as it has been revealed in Scripture and proclaimed throughout Church history. However, on the other hand, the falseness of the presumed arrogance of the exclusive claim of Jesus Christ being like no other revelation can also be illustrated from Barth’s theory of lights and the understanding of the universality of that one revelation. It is not Barth’s purpose to show the superiority of the Light of Jesus Christ in relation to other lights, but to contrast that light with darkness: ‘Not the topic “the Light and the lights,” but “The Light and the darkness,” stands at the beginning,’83 or to go back to the initial starting point of this volume, when thinking about the relationship between Christianity and non-Christian religions, Barth did not intend to have Jesus Christ as climax arising out of a battle, superior to everything else, but instead as the starting point of the conversation.84 Consequently, Barth argues as follows: ‘We may not speak of an absolute, independent, and exclusive ignorance of Das Christliche Leben, p. 386; The Christian Life, p. 226. See here e.g. Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Pluralisms,’ pp. 100–03.  80 See Chapter 1, pp. 24–27.  81 Compare the first article of the Barmen Declaration, quoted e.g. in CD IV/3.1, p. 86; KD IV/3.1, pp. 95–96 or a more detailed discussion of the article in CD II/1, pp. 172–78; KD II/1, pp. 194–200.  82 Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths, p. viii.  83 Kraus, ‘Logos und Sophia,’ p. 11.  84 See Fangmeier, Der Theologe Karl Barth, p. 62.  78  79

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God in the world … The ambivalence with which God is well known in the world and yet still most suspiciously unknown is bad enough.’85 In this regard, we note, therefore, that Barth’s approach, while remaining genuinely Christian and consistent with the witness of Scripture, enables the Christian to remain open to ‘hear God speak,’ while remaining rooted in the awareness that it is not up to the believer to decide on boundaries of God’s sovereignty over creation. Barth answers thus Hick’s question of how to interpret revelation without needing the Kantian distinction between the Real an sich and the Real experienced. The self-centredness and arrogance seems thus untenable on multiple accounts. Instead, it concerns the relationship between the Church and the world, the relationship of the Christian community and those who do not have a Christian faith, an issue to which we return in the conclusion.

Religion In the context of Barth’s engagement with religion in §17 of Church Dogmatics, we find a critical reference to Troeltsch’s argument for the absoluteness of Christianity to which Hick reacts when building his pluralist approach. Barth describes Troeltsch’s position as follows: ‘Troeltsch taught us that the main task of the theologian is to exercise himself in “entering hypothetically” into the phenomena of general religious history, so that by a comparative assessment of the various worlds of religion he may then see that Christianity is relatively the best religion at any rate for the time being and probably for all conceivable time (this side of the incursion of a new ice age).’86 This is a position that Barth sees as problematic, and – as surprising as this might be – this unites him with Hick. The reasons for and implications of this agreement are obviously very different, but neither Barth nor Hick argue for an absoluteness of the Christian religion, one of the key arguments made in Chapter 2 (particularly pp. 67–74 on true religion). A few aspects have to be highlighted here: First, we should take at face value that this is indeed a common ground between Hick and Barth. Whether Barth sees Troeltsch as part of ‘the sad

The Christian Life, p. 127; Das Christliche Leben, p. 208. CD I/2, p. 290; KD I/2, p. 316.

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story of more recent Protestant theology,’87 or Hick calls this ‘a marked development in ways of conceiving Christianity’s place within the total religious life of the world’88 – both are united in their criticism of a position that puts absolute value on Christianity as a religion. While this does certainly not make them agree on the implications of this statement, we can use this as a basis for further development of the discussion. Secondly, therefore, Hick’s criticism of the absoluteness of Christianity (or rather, the Christian religion) raises the very important question to which extent Barth’s critique of religion as such has to be applied to the Christian religion. It was one of the main concerns of Chapter 289 to illustrate that Barth emphatically calls the Christian Church to be faithful to the revelation of Jesus Christ, and the Christian religion can be called ‘true’ only insofar as the Christian religion is reflecting this revelation by being its ‘human face’.90 Certainly, this does not satisfy Hick’s claim that Christianity can only be true for the Western world, nor the attempt to resolve the conflicting truth claims between different religions; this is not what Barth has in mind. However, Barth shares the question raised by Hick regarding the non-absoluteness of Christianity to the extent that it is God who decides on the salvation of the individual. Therefore, a nominal membership of the Christian religion is not in and of itself a warrant for a carefree existence, an aspect of convergence that we also detected in the engagement with Rahner’s argument for explicit faith in Jesus Christ and active Church membership.91 As I have argued in Chapter 2 repeatedly, Barth is never concerned with proving the absolute validity of the Christian religion because: a) The judgement that religion is unbelief is first and foremost to be applied to the Christian religion and is to be pronounced upon other religions only insofar as Christians recognize their own shortcoming in this other religion;92 b) the truth of any religion will only be able to be given from outside, otherwise it remains unbelief, making it impossible and inappropriate to pronounce this judgement without reference

CD I/2, p. 290; KD I/2, p. 315. Hick, ‘The Non-Absoluteness of Christianity,’ p. 16.  89 See particularly pp. 55–60 and pp. 74–79.  90 Compare CD I/2, p. 281; KD I/2, p. 306.  91 See for this Chapter 5, pp. 164–71.  92 Compare CD I/2, pp. 326–27; KD I/2, pp. 357–58.  87  88

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to the divine;93 and c) the perception of the Christian religion as true religion will always remain a statement of faith which members of the Christian Church are invited to profess as precisely this statement of faith, but this does not deny the great mercy and patience to be extended to those who do not share in the Christian faith.94 All this needs to be done in order to avoid a position that evaluates religion by human standards. Thirdly, and finally, we are now able to revisit Hick’s accusation aimed at Barth that described Barth’s understanding as ‘sublime bigotry.’95 If it is indeed true that the rejection of the attempt by Troeltsch to prove the absoluteness of Christianity unites Barth and Hick, at least at a superficial level, this accusation seems to hold even less than when we engaged with it initially in Chapter 2. Here, we note that the neutral vantage point that Hick tries to establish in relation to the world religions is difficult and impossible to attain.96 Hick, particularly at the earlier stages after the Copernican Revolution, pursues his argument still as a ‘Christian’ theologian,97 and to which extent Hick’s mature work on religious pluralism can still be considered ‘Christian’ has rightly been put into question.98 Of particular interest here is that a problem arises with Hick’s claim that religions are only different ways to the same divine reality. In absence of a criterion like Jesus Christ as applied in Barth’s §17 of Church Dogmatics that decides on the ‘truth’ of a religion, Hick’s pluralism leads, if applied consistently, to a position that does not allow criticism of any thought system as long as it claims some way of connecting to the divine. While Hick suggests the ethical criterion as a key in grading religions, the criticism still holds that ‘a pluralist theology of religions has to abstain per definitionem from any critique and is thus running the risk of simply confirming and

Compare CD I/2, pp. 325–26; KD I/2, pp. 356–57. Compare CD I/2, p. 326; KD I/2, p. 357 for the point that this is a ‘statement of faith’ (Glaubenssatz). Compare CD I/2, pp. 297–98; KD I/2, pp. 324–25 for the cautious and charitable character of the evaluation of religions.  95 Hick, God Has Many Names (US), p. 90.  96 For this impossibility of neutrality in judging religions in a broader context, see Gavin D’Costa, ‘Whose Objectivity? Which Neutrality? The Doomed Quest for a Neutral Vantage Point from Which to Judge Religions,’ Religious Studies 29:1 (March 1993), pp. 79–95.  97 Compare Schmidt-Leukel who describes pluralism as ‘a specific option within the Christian theology of religions’ (Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Pluralisms,’ p. 85).  98 See e.g. D’Costa who describes Hick’s pluralism as exposing agnosticism and proclaiming a ‘highly specified form of liberal modernity’ (Gavin D’Costa, The Meeting of Religions and the Trinity [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000], p. 29).  93  94



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corroborating the respective status quo of the own or a different religion.’99 It is evident here that the starting point of doing theology in light of religion, rather than in the light of revelation, will offer little more than just a vague assertion of religious diversity. Related to this, there is also a significant element of Barth’s approach missing in Hick’s pluralism. This is the argument for a self-critical attitude towards the own religion. Here it is crucial to remember that Barth’s assessment of religion as ‘unbelief ’ was made with the concession that this was made in the light of revelation. Thus, as Barth argues: ‘it is our business as Christians to apply this judgement [of religion as unbelief] first and most acutely to ourselves: and to others, the non-Christians, only in so far as we recognise ourselves in them, i.e., only as we see in them the truth of this judgement of revelation which concerns us, in the solidarity, therefore, in which, anticipating them in both repentance and hope, we accept this judgement to participate in the promise of revelation.’100 The self-critical attitude encouraged by Barth both corporately and individually is missing from Hick’s argument for pluralism. While Hick might be critical of his own Christian heritage, he arrives at a position that has departed so far from the Christian religion that it is unrecognizable.101 Related to this is Hick’s misinterpretation of Barth’s argument for ‘true religion’ as a static entity that applies to the Christian religion without any reservation. As a reminder, one needs to point here to Barth’s qualification with regard to true religion: ‘If by the concept of a “true religion” we mean truth which belongs to religion in itself and as such, it is just as unattainable as a “good man,” if by goodness we mean something which man can achieve on his own initiative. No religion is true. It can only become true, i.e. according to that which it purports to be and for which it is upheld.’102 By contrast, Hick assumes that his pluralism and the understanding of the simultaneous validity of different religions is superior to other understandings, as illustrated by the starting point of his pluralist hypothesis ‘not Krauss, ‘Gottes Offenbarung und Menschliche Religion – Eine Analyse des Religionsbegriffs in Karl Barths Kirchlicher Dogmatik mit besonderer Berücksichtigung F. D. E. Schleiermachers’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis; University of St Andrews, 1990), p. 321. 100 CD I/2, p. 327; KD I/2, p. 358. 101 See e.g. the argument that Hick displays a ‘transcendental agnosticism’ in Gavin D’Costa, ‘The Impossibility of a Pluralist View of Religions,’ Religious Studies 32:2 (June 1996), pp.  223–32, particularly pp. 228–29. 102 CD I/2, p. 325; KD I/2, p. 356.  99

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[to] support the single picture of a single “true” religion in the midst of a number of “false” ones.’103 This is expressed similarly by Perry Schmidt-Leukel who maintains that the pluralist approach is the only way other religions are understood so that religions ‘come to a deep and far-reaching approval and appreciation of each other.’104 As I have shown, Hick’s pluralism fails at a basic level to ‘avoid the implausibly arbitrary dogma that religious experience is all delusory with the single exception of the particular form enjoyed by the one who is speaking.’105 For, at its core, pluralism turns into another form of ‘implausibly arbitrary dogma’ that argues that ‘religious experience is all delusory’ – with the single exception of the pluralist hypothesis. As D’Costa aptly summarizes: ‘the irony about tolerant pluralism is that it is eventually intolerant towards most forms of orthodox religious belief, Christian or otherwise. Hence, whichever way Hick turns to answer the question, his answer reveals that he is an exclusivist and not a pluralist as he claims.’106 Despite the fact that Hick himself might disagree with this,107 this section has shown that the presumed arbitrariness and bigotry of Barth’s approach cannot be sustained. Concurrently, this section has shown that Barth’s theological critique of religion that is built on revelation offers a helpful approach that is both self-critical to the own religion, while being open to those who do not share their belief.

Theological anthropology As has already been pointed out above, the different way of understanding revelation has ramifications for other parts of Hick’s thought. Thus, when engaging his anthropology, we are revisiting Hick’s lack of emphasis on the divine. A useful counterargument in this regard from Barth would entail revisiting the theological anthropology with which we engaged in Chapter 3.108 Further to the argument here, it seems worthwhile to underline Barth’s initial Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 235. Perry Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Beyond Tolerance: Towards a New Step in Interreligious Relationships,’ Scottish Journal of Theology 55:4 (2002), pp. 379–91 (385). 105 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 235. 106 D’Costa, ‘The Impossibility of a Pluralist View of Religions,’ p. 229. 107 John Hick, ‘The Possibility of Religious Pluralism: A Reply to Gavin D’Costa,’ Religious Studies 33:2 (June 1997), pp. 161–66. 108 See particularly pp. 85–104. 103 104



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engagement with different positions that do not pursue a theological anthropology, but rather an anthropological system like Hick’s. For Barth, this means that ‘anthropology has a special task. It is the task of dogmatics generally to present the revelation of the truth of the relationship between God and man in the light of the biblical witness to its history as a whole. Anthropology [asks specifically for] the human creatureliness presupposed in this relationship and made known by it, i.e. by its revelation and biblical attestation. It asks what kind of a being it is which stands in this relationship with God.’109 We are reminded in this context of Barth’s subsequent refusal to understand God with a starting point from the human being, rather than understand the human being from the perspective of God.110 Furthermore, it is helpful to examine how Barth distinguishes theological anthropology from other forms of anthropology. Barth reacts against two variations of anthropology: On the one hand, Barth points to what he calls ‘speculative science’ of the human being; on the other hand, he refers to the ‘exact science’ of the human being.111 We are concerned here particularly with anthropology as ‘speculative science’ as it most closely reflects the anthropological interest that Hick pursues. It describes an approach that ‘arises in the wide area between myth on the one hand and philosophy on the other … [where] man supposes that he can begin absolutely with himself, i.e., his own judgement, and then legitimately and necessarily push forward until he finally reaches an absolute synthesis, a system of truth exhaustive of reality as a whole.’112 Of importance is the way Barth rejects this form of anthropology, which is not because it is (in and of itself) an inadequate way to understand the human being as it gives human beings too much confidence in their own abilities, but rather ‘primarily because … we are not able to see the essence and nature of man apart from the Word of God. Hence we cannot enter that sterile corner, nor can we argue from it. [The Christian Church is simply not located in that corner; she would annihilate herself [sich selbst aufheben] if she wished to go there].’113 Consequently, the very different approach to anthropology will have a decisive impact on every other part of Hick’s pluralism. More strongly CD III/2, p. 19, rev.; KD III/2, p. 20. See for this Chapter 3, pp. 96–104. 111 Compare for the following, CD III/2, pp. 21–25; KD III/2, pp. 23–28. 112 CD III/2, p. 22; KD III/2, p. 24. 113 CD III/2, p. 23, rev.; KD III/2, p. 25. 109 110

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than in other areas, it means that the insights from this anthropology might be worthwhile in their own right; however, Barth does not allow any theological claims to be made based on this anthropology. Nonetheless, I maintain here that Barth’s theology can answer some of Hick’s concerns. This argument can be made despite the differences in the understanding of the anthropological task. The key for this is the understanding of freedom. Hick, as has been outlined above, sees any faith or belief as ‘a fundamental expression of human freedom.’114 In Barth’s theological anthropology, it is this very concept of freedom that is seen as key for his argument for fellow humanity. While we return to the question of freedom again in the conclusion to this chapter, it is for the present discussion of primary importance that Barth defines the interaction between human beings as based on freedom. Barth argues that the Christian believer never exists in isolation from his or her fellow human being, and this applies also to the one who does not have a Christian faith: ‘Humanity is the realisation of this togetherness of man and man grounded [precisely] in human freedom and [precisely] necessary in this freedom.’115 For this reason, Barth’s argument goes beyond an abstract ‘ethical criterion,’ as Barth allows for the genuine difference between individuals to be maintained: ‘If in the other I seek myself at a higher or deeper level, the Thou is for me merely my extended I. I do not respect it as a being which does not belong to me but must be true to itself and not violated.’116 In this understanding of fellow humanity, drawn from and based on the understanding of the human being created in the image of God, Barth helpfully shows that freedom is not marginal to human existence: ‘In a togetherness which is accepted gladly and in freedom man is neither a slave nor a tyrant, and the fellow-man is neither a slave nor tyrant, but both are companions, associates, comrades, fellows and helpmates. As such they are indispensable to one another.’117 Therefore, Barth’s view of the human being leads him to a robust understanding of what it means to be human, both individually (drawn theologically from the humanity of Jesus Christ), as well as corporately (drawn theologically from the relational character of God). Hick, God Has Many Names – Britain’s New Religious Pluralism, p. 4, my emphasis. CD III/2, p. 269, rev.; KD III/2, p. 324. 116 CD III/2, p. 270; KD III/2, p. 325. 117 CD III/2, p. 271; KD III/2, p. 326. 114 115



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Further still, the ethical criterion that Hick suggests in determining the truthfulness of religion needs some probing at this point. Hick maintains that ‘love, compassion, self-sacrificing concern for the good of others, generous kindness and forgiveness … is not an alien ideal imposed by supernatural authority but one arising out of our human nature (though always in tension with other aspects of that nature), reinforced, refined and elevated to new levels within the religious traditions.’118 On the one hand, it is problematic to assume that there is an inherently ‘good’ ‘human nature’ that sees itself challenged in an ominous ‘tension’ with other parts of this nature. This fails at giving a valid explanation of the human experience and is linked to Hick’s attempt to shift from the emphasis on beginnings in anthropology to ends,119 but it is not successful at giving an answer of these ‘ends’ either: How can it do so, if there is only an awareness of a ‘tension’ that is paired with a call for the importance of the here and now? It is precisely Barth’s Christological understanding of the human being that allows for the differentiation of human activity and its multifaceted ambiguity within the realm of asserting the image of God that is marred by the impact of sin.120 Sin, and its antithetical understanding to human freedom,121 allows a more robust understanding of human existence, which does not deny any of its complexity, but nonetheless affirms both its beginning and its end. When speaking about sin, one needs to turn, on the other hand, also to grace, which are in Barth’s thought inseparably linked: As was argued in Chapter 3 (pp. 104–10), sin and the fallen human existence can only be understood in the light of God’s grace. We are returning here once more to the question of human freedom: ‘Christian freedom is really the freedom of the confession of Jesus Christ as the one and only Prophet, light of life, and Word of God.’122 For our discussion here, it is of crucial importance then to emphasize that ‘in the act of execution, being determined by God (göttliches Bestimmtwerden) and human self-determiniation (menschliche Selbstbestimmung), authority

Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 325. See Hick, Death and Eternal Life, p. 46. 120 Compare here the discussion with Gustaf Wingren and the charge that Barth does not pay attention to sin, outlined in Chapter 1, pp. 17–21. 121 Compare CD IV/3.1, p. 90; KD IV/3, p. 99, and Chapter 3, pp. 104–10. 122 CD IV/3.1, p. 90; KD IV/3, p. 99. 118 119

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and freedom are inseparably linked.’123 In Hick, the production of ‘saints’ and good moral behaviour to determine the truthfulness of human religion is, thus, a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to live by grace: ‘God does not ask of man that he should be something different, but simply that he should be what he is, the man who is loved by Him, that he should freely confess himself the one to whom God has already freely addressed Himself.’124 From the Christian point of view, this means that Hick proposes nothing more than a work-righteousness,125 as human actions in ‘religious traditions and their various components … have greater or less value according as they promote or hinder the salvific transformation,’126 a point to which we return below in the section on soteriology. This argument is further corroborated by Donald Arthur Carson’s critique of the pluralist understanding of the human being. Although not explicitly engaging with Hick, Carson raises two important questions that can be put towards Hick. First, it asks the question of the ‘image of God’ and how it relates to the understanding of the human being. Further to the argument from Chapter 3,127 Carson puts this concept as a central category of Christian theology as it assumes a personal God, and, thus, ‘the least that “image of God” language suggests, in addition to human personhood, is that human beings are not simply hairless apes with cranial capacities slightly larger than those of other primates.’128 While it seems obvious that Hick could not commit to this view of the human being, it seems of crucial importance here to see that this can be regarded as an unintended consequence of the move from a personal God to the Real. Secondly, it also raises the question of human accountability. No matter what we might see as the alternative basis of human action, ‘it is not just the bare fact that God has made us that establishes our moral accountability to Martin Laube, ‘Tätige Freiheit – Zur Aktualität des reformierten Freiheitsverständnisses,’ Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 109 (2012), pp. 337–59 (352). 124 CD IV/1, p. 488; KD IV/1, p. 543. 125 Compare Hick, Faith and Knowledge, pp.  237–63, which gives an overview of the relationship between belief and moral behaviour and which shows first signs of the work-righteousness that I have in mind here, most notably by understanding Jesus Christ as moral exemplar (e.g. p. 262). 126 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 300. 127 See particularly pp. 89–96. 128 Donald Arthur Carson, The Gagging of God – Christianity Confronts Pluralism (Leicester: Apollos, 1996), p. 205. 123



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him … rather it is that he made us as moral, sentient beings; more he made us in his image. Because other human beings are in the image of the Maker no less than we, our relations with them, regardless of their station, are also constrained.’129 In this sense, the centre stage that the human being takes in Hick’s pluralism, particularly with its ethical criterion in the context of religion, has less grounding when not being built on the image of a personal God. It can be argued, thus, that a positive evaluation of the human being can only be achieved when approaching the human from the divine and not by making the divine subject to human needs, as argued by Hick. If the divine is understood solely as corresponding to human needs, one ends with a divine entity that only responds to human requests and stands at the human being’s disposal. This seems not only problematic from the Christian point of view, but it also nullifies the importance of the divine and grants it only a very limited role, almost diminishing it to a divine ‘wishing well.’ As has been argued in Chapter 3 (see pp. 96–104), the beauty not only on the insistence of the imago Dei but also of the invitation directed to all human beings to become God’s ‘partner’ and partake in the divine activity in the world is thereby completely lost. In this sense, Barth’s theology does not negate human freedom, but it invites to participation in God’s work.

Soteriology With regard to soteriology, there are two broad areas of particular interest. It has to be noted that, faced with different religious truth claims, Hick maintains that these ‘are not of great religious, i.e. soteriological importance. For different groups can hold incompatible sets of theories all of which constitute intellectual frameworks within which the process of salvation/liberation can proceed.’130 There is an apparent contradiction between asserting, on the one hand, the reality of conflicting religious truth claims and, on the other hand, maintaining that these conflicting truth claims all lead to the same state of ‘salvation/liberation.’ For example, the balance that Hick tries to establish

Carson, The Gagging of God, p. 209. John Hick, Problems of Religious Pluralism, p. 94, emphasis in original.

129 130

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between ‘grading religions’131 and the argument that differences between different religions are ultimately ‘not of great … importance’132 receives a different dimension when examining the issue through a soteriological lens. Whether this apparent dichotomy can be maintained is a question which Hick fails to answer adequately. A few brief observations are necessary in this regard: First and foremost, it is striking that Hick parallels salvation and religion, a point with which Barth would sharply disagree, as ‘religion’ as a ‘human’ activity cannot result in salvation, a ‘divine’ act, an aspect which we have already underlined in the preceding section. Secondly, however, this is another example of a superficial agreement between Hick and Barth, as Barth maintains, similarly to Hick, that ‘the elements and problems in the basic outlook of all religions [are] the same as those of Christian doctrine: the world’s beginning and end, the origin and nature of man, moral and religious law, sin and redemption.’133 However, it seems difficult to argue for the equation of salvation and liberation, particularly in Hick’s later work and after the extension of the pluralist hypothesis to incorporate non-theistic religions. We have already touched upon the problems with this turn to the Real; however, the equation of salvation and liberation as ‘each of what I am calling the impersonae of the Real, no less than each of its personae, is regarded within its own faith-world as the … Real an sich,’134 raises a range of methodological problems. For example, Paul Griffiths and Delmas Lewis maintain that this equalization of salvation and liberation means that ‘the goal at which religions direct their practitioners – tellingly described by Professor Hick as salvation/liberation (the use of the ‘/’ is usually a sign of a philosopher’s rather uneasy attempt to combine two notions which really cannot be combined) – is single, universal, in all cases the same. For all religions, on this view, the soteriological goal has to be identical.’135 Put differently, there seems to be a concern with the way this understanding presupposes the ‘goal’ of different religions. By extension, it means that the moment of salvation/liberation is turned into a moment of insecurity that can incorporate many different things. See the title of Hick, ‘On Grading Religions.’ Hick, Problems of Religious Pluralism, p. 94. 133 CD I/2, p. 282; KD I/2, p. 307. 134 Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, p. 279. 135 Paul Griffiths and Delmas Lewis, ‘On Grading Religions, Seeking Truth, and Being Nice to People: A Reply to Professor Hick,’ Religious Studies 19:1 (March 1983), pp. 75–80 (76). 131 132



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This is, to speak with Barth, contrary to the Christian message that asserts security and a reliable destination: ‘The history of Jesus Christ as the end and meaning of creation is not a drama which is played out at a remote distance and which he [the human being] can view as an interested or disinterested spectator. For he [the human being] is the one whom God in His own Son has eternally taken to His heart of love. His [the human being’s] cause is pleaded in the heart of God. He [The human being] is defended against the menace of nothingness. Eternal life is won for him [the human being]. He [The human being] has been clothed in the glory of God. Christian faith does not merely contemplate what God has done; it receives it as done for us.’136 The Christian approach can therefore be nothing but the assurance that comes through faith and Timothy R. Stinnett remarks in this regard convincingly: ‘We who cannot visibly observe our own salvation but must accept it in faith are not in a position visibly to observe the salvation of others … When ultimate reality is truly known it is known in its ultimacy.’137 Another aspect of interest here is to examine how Hick engages with Barth’s stance on universalism. While it has to be acknowledged that Hick’s discussion of Barth is transient at best,138 Hick’s portrayal of Barth’s position is correct insofar as it points to Barth’s argument that ‘because of God’s own sovereign freedom we must never positively assert that he will do this.’139 Hick’s subsequent step, however, is questionable, as he asks: ‘In forbidding God to allow us to make valid inferences about him is not Barth in effect legislating for the Deity?’140 The reason that Hick gives for this criticism is as follows: ‘For he [Barth] is saying that in order to be sovereignly free God must remain, in relation to us, arbitrary and unpredictable.’141 Yet, nothing could be further from the truth! God has revealed God’s purpose and love for the human being in full in the person of Jesus Christ. As Chapter 4 (pp. 130–38), has shown, there might be an issue of consistency in Barth’s position; however, it is simply not a case that by encouraging a position that is open to CD III/1, p. 387, rev.; KD III/1, p. 444. Timothy R. Stinnett, ‘John Hick’s Pluralistic Theory of Religion,’ The Journal of Religion  70:4 (October 1990), pp. 569–88 (587). 138 Hick’s discussion of Barth’s universalism covers two pages, with a mere three references, one of which is simply to Humanity of God. See Hick, Death and Eternal Life, pp. 259–61. 139 Hick, Death and Eternal Life, p. 260, emphasis in original. 140 Hick, Death and Eternal Life, p. 260. 141 Hick, Death and Eternal Life, p. 260, emphasis in original. 136 137

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universalism, while at the same time not subscribing to it uncritically, Barth’s approach results in arbitrariness. The same applies to Hick’s accusation that Barth uses here an anthropomorphic conception of freedom – an odd accusation if Hick maintains that God would only be truly free if he was indeed saving all of humankind. It is noticeable that Hick’s superficial treatment of Barth’s approach to salvation hinders an in-depth engagement with his thought. Arguably, this is acceptable within reason – after all, Hick does not intend to offer a scholarly engagement with Barth’s thought. However, this cannot mean that it allows Hick to dismiss Barth’s understanding in broad-brush strokes. This applies in the context of religion as well as here when dealing with universal salvation. Finally, one needs to raise the issue of understanding salvation as individualistic in Hick’s pluralism. This is reflected in the emphasis on the different criteria to grade religions, and particularly the question of the production of ‘saints’ in the religions. In the previous section on theological anthropology, I already pointed to a degree of work-righteousness in Hick in this regard. Further to this, it can be argued here that Hick is more concerned with individual salvation and less with the community aspect that can be found in Barth. Despite the fact that Hick sees soteriology and ethics as intimately connected,142 the application of the creation of ‘saints’ through action finds its emphasis in the soteriological impact of ‘good deeds’ for the individual doing them, and does not see the individual in community, as reflected in the direct move from a self-centredness to a centredness on the Real without giving attention to the community in which human beings find themselves.143 As it was pointed out in the section on theological anthropology above, this is a result of approaching the human being not from a divine perspective, and, as has been shown in Chapter 4, particularly in ‘The doctrine of election in Church Dogmatics’ (pp. 118–30), there is great emphasis on the fact that being ‘Included in the election of the community [means] in the community, by the community (and then at once also for it as well!) … these [individuals] also are elected in and with the election of Jesus Christ.’144 This is the combination of individual salvation with Compare Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, pp. 299–315. Compare e.g. Hick, An Interpretation of Religion, pp.  301–02. See also Paul R. Eddy, ‘Religious Pluralism and the Divine: Another Look at John Hick’s Neo-Kantian Proposal,’ Religious Studies 30 (1994), pp. 467–78 (475–76). 144 CD II/2, p. 197, rev.; KD II/2, p. 217. 142 143



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the emphasis on being part of a community of faith, which is missing in Hick, leading to a position that emphasizes individualism over community.

Conclusion This chapter has outlined the pluralist paradigm and engaged it with Barth’s theology and some of its more recent critics. By way of conclusion, we are now in a position to suggest a brief overall response to the pluralist approach. While this will be broadened and will take centre stage in Chapter 7, this is a way to suggest the use of Barth’s theological approach in direct response to some of the concerns of pluralism. The title of this chapter describes Hick and the pluralist paradigm as ‘question and challenge’ to Barth. This points to the multifaceted character of the pluralist approach, and highlights, first of all, the attractive character of the pluralist paradigm. In favour of the pluralist paradigm, it could be argued that it is undoubtedly tremendously appealing to consider all religions as more or less equally true and highlighting cooperation and peaceful coexistence. Additionally, the role that religion has played in conflicts and wars throughout history could be seen as further evidence that religious pluralism is the only viable option to warrant peace. Furthermore, Schmidt-Leukel145 argues that pluralism is not building on the need for interfaith dialogue and religious tolerance, but rather that pluralism is the only approach that sees a genuine value in religious diversity.146 The premise is thereby that both inclusivism and exclusivism assume that their own religion is superior, thus it can only aim at religious uniformity. Similarly, he makes the case for pluralism that the equal number of ‘fruits’ seen in the ‘saints’ across the different religions denies the truth of an absolute claim of any religion. In a generous interpretation, one might argue that Barth understands the critical points the pluralist paradigm raises with regard to the possibility of Christian arrogance about their religion as a corrective ‘means of revelation’ (in the sense of ‘Media of revelation’ pp. 27–31), urging the members of the

See Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Pluralisms,’ pp. 99–103. Schmidt-Leukel, ‘Pluralisms,’ p. 102.

145 146

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Christian Church to become more faithful to the gift of grace that they have received in Jesus Christ. The revelation in Jesus Christ is universal in its applicability, and the Christian community is called to proclaim this, pointing as the ‘human face of revelation’ in word and deed to the truth revealed in Jesus Christ. In this sense, the call for ‘saints’ raised by both Hick and Schmidt-Leukel is to be seen as a clarion call to the Christian community: Human beings who are outside the Christian community are right ‘in wanting to see the good works of Christians in order to praise their heavenly Father (Mt. 5.16).’147 The closest Barth comes to a reaction to pluralism is in the context of the alternatives to his theory of lights where Barth acknowledges the attractiveness of a pluralist approach in the broader context of defending Jesus Christ as the Light of life: If we could be content with the mere assertion that Jesus Christ is one light of life, one word of God: the clearest perhaps; a particularly important one, and of great urgency for us; but only one of the many testimonies to the truth which have been given by others and which have also to be studied and assessed together with His. In short, it could be accepted that He is a great prophet. This could be easily received, and perhaps even with great willingness and readiness. It could be warmly and enthusiastically championed. Many cogent arguments could be found for it. It need not be disputed by the modern Synagogue. It is actually stated in the Koran. It can be accepted by Western Idealism. With this message we need not expose or compromise ourselves, or provoke suspicion or unpopularity, or give offence to anyone, least of all to ourselves. Noble rivalry or peaceful co-existence is possible with [those who] prefer other lights of life or words of God. And, of course, we maintain our own liberty to hear other such words as well, and perhaps even to prefer them.148

From there, Barth argues that it is not possible for the Christian to assume this position. True freedom for the Christian consists precisely in the confession of Jesus Christ as Lord, as the one Light of the world.149 Barth foresees the intellectual, moral, and political objections,150 yet remains committed to this confession, while offering a theological thought system that can answer the demands set out by the pluralist paradigm. The Christian Life, p. 270; Das Christliche Leben, p. 469. CD IV/3.1, p. 87, rev.; KD IV/3.1, pp. 96–97. 149 Compare CD IV/3.1, p. 90; KD IV/3.1, p. 99. 150 Compare CD IV/3.1, pp. 89–90; KD IV/3.1, pp. 98–99. 147 148



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Importantly, though, he qualifies this statement of faith by arguing that ‘the statement that Jesus Christ is the one Word of God has really nothing whatever to do with the arbitrary exaltation and self-glorification of the Christian in relation to other men, of the Church in relation to other institutions, or of Christianity in relation to other conceptions.’151 In this sense, Hick’s allegation of ‘sublime bigotry,’152 geared towards Barth, is predicted by Barth and acknowledged as a natural response, yet as a misunderstanding, a point which we raised on various occasions throughout this chapter. Similarly, the repeated tenet of pluralism that it is the only approach that genuinely appreciates other religions has also proven to be misleading, as Barth encourages the openness to see God working in creation153 and the desire to have great mercy and patience extended to all religions.154 It is in this sense that Barth challenges the Christian believer to understand the confession of Jesus Christ – just as the statement of the Christian religion as true religion155 – as the Christological statement that it is. Barth’s reminder that great mercy and patience should be extended to all religions156 counters the accusation of intended uniformity insofar as it does not make it the explicit goal to dismiss this religious diversity. It takes into account the de facto pluralism, while also seeing all of creation already as standing under the sovereignty of God. The declaration of the Christian confession, therefore, ‘looks away [not only from the non-Christian, but also from the Christian] to the One who sovereignly confronts and precedes both as the Prophet. As Jesus Christ is its content [i.e. of the statement], the one who confesses it in no sense marks himself off from those who do not. In face of what it says, not concerning Christians or the Church or Christianity, but concerning Christ, he is in solidarity with them.’157 It will be the task of the following chapter to outline and characterize what it means in practice to proclaim and confess this statement, both individually and corporately. CD IV/3.1, p. 91; KD IV/3.1, p. 100. Hick, God Has Many Names (US), p. 90. 153 See Barth, ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22/23.10.1967),’ pp. 400–01. 154 See CD I/2, p. 297; KD I/2, p. 324, and also Barth’s explanation of this in Barth, ‘Interview von H. A. Fischer-Barnicol,’ pp. 145–46. 155 Compare CD I/2, p. 326; KD I/2, p. 357. 156 Compare, again, CD I/2, pp. 297–98; KD I/2, pp. 324–25 for Barth’s argument for a cautious and charitable attitude in the evaluation of religions. 157 CD IV/3.1, p. 91; KD IV/3.1, pp. 100–01. Words in square brackets added to clarify antecedents. 151 152

7

Conclusion– Karl Barth’s Theology as a Resource for a Christian Theology of Religions

The previous six chapters have served two distinct purposes. In the first four chapters, I engaged with different aspects of Barth’s theological thought for the purpose of examining how these can be used in the Christian community to engage with those who have a different faith or no faith at all. These doctrinal aspects were Barth’s understanding of revelation in Chapter 1, his position on religion in Chapter 2, the question of theological anthropology in Chapter 3 and his doctrine of election in Chapter 4. Subsequently, I engaged Barth with two schools of thought in the theology of religions, namely the inclusivist paradigm as represented by Karl Rahner in Chapter 5 and the pluralist position as represented by John Hick in Chapter 6. In this final chapter, I will be drawing on these different sections in order to address the main question of this project: How can Barth’s theology be used for a Christian theology of religions, i.e. as a resource for the Christian living in a multi-religious world? On the one hand, it has become obvious that Barth does not offer an engagement with other religions, as he neither engages extensively with other religions by providing knowledge of their belief systems, nor does he show how God may be encountered outside of the Christian faith. It would be fundamentally mistaken to take the cursory discussion of other religions as either a basis for Barth’s dismissal of people of these faiths, or as an outright denial of Barth’s interest in these. By maintaining a strict a priori of the divine that must always precede any human involvement in Barth’s thought, the same can also be said about the Christian faith. The conclusion of this chapter will show that Barth’s theology is nonetheless more than suitable for a Christian theology of religions, if understood correctly. The criterion for making such

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a statement is thereby first and foremost Jesus Christ. This means that the leading factor in Barth’s theology as it has been outlined lies outside the boundaries of human attempts at domesticating or controlling it, a point to which I return in due course. On the other hand, this illustrates that a mere analysis of Barth’s take on religion will be insufficient if one wants to come to an understanding of how Christians can understand those with a different faith or no faith at all. This is one of the main reasons why I examined Barth’s theology under the four broad areas of revelation, religion, theological anthropology and justification in the first part. As it will be seen in this chapter, it is in this sense that Barth establishes a position that can be used for the purpose of a Christian encounter with non-Christians. By way of conclusion, this approach will be outlined in this chapter.

Barth’s theology in the field of Christian theology of religions Before turning to the application part of this conclusion, a brief recapitulation of the way Barth’s theology has been portrayed in the research field seems appropriate. First, one group of scholars denies Barth’s theology any usefulness in the development of a Christian theology of religions. Whether one points here to Hick’s accusation of ‘sublime bigotry,’1 Paul J. Griffith’s interpretation of Barth arguing for the Christian religion as sole bearer of the truth,2 or Tom F. Driver’s indirect charge of ‘Christofascism,’3 due to Barth’s centring on the person of Jesus Christ, this book as a whole has shown that nothing could be further from the truth. I have argued that Barth’s theology is never eliminating and shutting down any conversation between Christians and non-Christians. While remaining firmly rooted within the Christian faith, Barth does not avoid difficult questions, but much rather calls the Christian community to see their presuppositions challenged in the most unexpected circumstances, while Hick, God Has Many Names [US], p. 90. Griffiths, Problems of Religious Diversity, p. 151.   3 Tom F. Driver, Christ in a Changing World – Toward an Ethical Christology (New York: Crossroad, 1981), pp. 2–3, borrowing the term from Dorothee Sölle.   1   2

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looking beyond human categories and affirm the dignity bestowed upon all of humanity through the divine Yes in the person of Jesus Christ. The reading, interpretation and application of Barth’s thought, with its different emphases and its constant focus on the grace that is theirs in Jesus Christ, provides a helpful basis for the members of the Christian Church as they experience different faiths on a daily basis, and gives an example of a framework that is ‘both open and faithfully committed to its tradition-specific way of narrating the world.’4 A second group of scholars to whom this project has replied concerns those who understand Barth’s thought as a paradigmatic example of exclusivism. While more nuanced statements have been made, calling Barth ‘exclusivist, inclusivist, and universalist,’5 or using Barth’s approach for inter-religious encounter,6 the classification of Barth’s theology in this category has been reiterated repeatedly. This includes Alan Race who calls Barth ‘the most extreme form of the exclusivist theory,’7 Griffiths who discusses Barth as a proponent of exclusivism whose defendants ‘assert at least the following core claim: belonging to the home religion is necessary for salvation.’8 The fact that this classification is still widely adopted is evident to this day, taking exclusivism as ‘represented chiefly by Barth and Kraemer.’9 However, the more subtle approaches to Barth’s theology that have just been quoted show that this labelling of Barth as an exclusivist is simply and plainly inaccurate. In this sense, my research has shown, on the one hand, that there are elements of inclusivism in Barth – visibly from the engagement with Rahner in Chapter 5 – but, on the other hand, that Barth’s theology answers numerous demands of the pluralist paradigm, as it has been proven in Chapter 6 in conversation with Hick. A theological understanding of non-Christian religions can be achieved not only in spite of, but precisely because of Barth’s critical stance of religion, a point to which I will return in the next section. D’Costa, The Meeting of Religions and the Trinity, p. 138. D’Costa, ‘Theology of Religions,’ p. 630.   6 This is the premise of Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype.   7 Race, Christians and Religious Pluralism, p.  11. See also my engagement with Chestnutt in Chapter 2, pp. 74–79.   8 Griffiths, Problems of Religious Diversity, p. 150. The discussion of Barth’s theology follows on pages 151 to 154.   9 See for e.g Frederiek Depoortere and Magdalen Lambkin (eds), The Question of Theological Truth (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2012), p. 11.   4   5

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This brings us, thirdly, to the material that is discussed when trying to approach Barth’s theology for the purpose of Christian theology of religions. In the case of one group, as has become evident particularly in Chapter 2, the charge of Barth as an exclusivist originates from a very narrow reading of Barth’s writings. Paul F. Knitter, who calls Barth a proponent of the ‘conservative evangelical model’ bases his analysis completely on parts of §17 of Church Dogmatics.10 The same applies to Griffiths,11 as well as Hick.12 While I have dealt with these accusations at various instances throughout the previous chapters, there is a second group of scholars that are arguably more sympathetic to Barth, yet still put an exceptional weight upon §17. Usually, this group takes their point of departure in §17 and also includes §69. This includes Greggs who wishes to bring ‘Barth’s critique of religion to the interfaith-table,’13 J. A. DiNoia who calls §17 and §69 ‘the principal loci for Barth’s theology of religion and the religions,’14 and Glenn A. Chestnutt who centres his discussion on Barth’s understanding of religion,15 engagement with particular religions,16 and the implications from §69.17 Additionally, David Lochhead is undoubtedly correct to apply Barth’s argument of religion as unbelief ‘first and foremost to Christian religion,’18 and to correct those who think Barth advocates Christian triumphalism. However, contrary to Lochhead’s argument that ‘in naming Jesus Christ as the one in whom God is definitely revealed, Barth makes it impossible to assert that what all religions have in common is more significant than any differences between them,’19 I have shown that it is precisely the revelation of Jesus Christ standing above all religion that leads to the fact that ‘by grace God has reconciled to Himself godless man [together with his] religion.’20 The same can be Knitter, No Other Name?, pp. 80–86. Griffiths, Problems of Religious Diversity, pp. 150–54. Hick, God Has Many Names (US), p. 90.  13 Greggs, ‘Inter-faith Table,’ pp.  75–94. Greggs only focuses on implications of §17 of Church Dogmatics here, but points to §69 on page 75, n. 4. For my engagement with Greggs, see Chapter 2, particularly pp. 60–67.  14 DiNoia, ‘Religion and the Religions,’ p.  245. See Chapter 2, pages 60–67 and 74–79 for my engagement with DiNoia.  15 Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype, Chapter 1.  16 Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype, Chapter 2.  17 Chestnutt, Challenging the Stereotype, Chapters 3 and 4.  18 David Lochhead, The Dialogical Imperative – A Christian Reflection on Interfaith Encounter (London: SCM Press, 1988), p. 33. Lochhead discusses Barth’s §§17 and 69 on pages 31–39.  19 Lochhead, The Dialogical Imperative, §34.  20 CD I/2, p. 299, rev.; KD I/2, p. 326. See also the longer quote of this and commentary below.  10  11  12

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said of Lochhead’s conclusion that Barth’s theology ‘is open to and affirming of any dialogue with the world’;21 Barth’s point is, thus, not to decide ‘whether the proposed dialogue is a faithful one.’22 Instead, he draws attention to the intrinsic value of the human being from the imago Dei and the resulting solidarity across different religions. An interesting case is, furthermore, Geoff Thompson’s23 argument, which puts particular emphasis on the distinction of words and lights extra muros ecclesiae. Thompson is certainly correct in looking outside §17 of Church Dogmatics for a basis for interfaith dialogue using Barth’s theology. However, there are a number of problems, most notably in the argument that is based on ‘Barth on the religions: interpreting CD §17,’24 with religions in the plural. The problem here is that Barth did not have the relationship between Christianity and other religions in mind,25 but reacted against revelation being interpreted in the light of religion (singular) and not vice versa. Thompson is incorrect to assert that Barth states in §17 that ‘by virtue of the divine creation, election, justification and sanctification, Christianity is delivered from world of unbelief and is defined as the true religion’26 on the following two counts: First, with regard to the non-Christian religions, Thompson’s assessment that ‘the other species of religion are left in their unbelieving condition: they are “false” and must be regarded as “religions of error”’27 is inaccurate insofar as both of these statements from Barth are made in the context of a stark warning to the Christian community who is Barth’s primary audience particularly in this paragraph. Secondly, with regard to Thompson’s unqualified statement that Christianity is called the ‘true religion’ betrays Barth’s argument for a non-static understanding of the truth of any religion (‘No religion is true. It can only become true … in the way in which man is justified, from without’28) as well as the distinction that follows from this between divine and human judgement on religion. Lochhead, The Dialogical Imperative, p. 39. Lochhead, The Dialogical Imperative, p. 39. One might also point here to Flett, The Witness of God with regard to the outward movement of the Christian community in partaking in God’s mission.  23 Geoff Thompson, ‘Religious Diversity, Christian Doctrine and Karl Barth,’ International Journal of Systematic Theology 8:1 (January 2006), pp. 3–24.  24 Thompson, ‘Religious Diversity,’ p. 6.  25 See the introductory comments to Chapter 2, pp. 53–74.  26 Thompson, ‘Religious Diversity,’ p. 7.  27 Ibid. The internal quotes refer to CD I/2, p. 326 (‘false’) and CD I/2, p. 344 (‘religions of error’).  28 CD I/2, p. 325; KD I/2, p. 356.  21  22

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Furthermore, if one turns to Thompson’s analysis of words and lights in §69 of Barth’s Church Dogmatics, one faces two different issues: First, Thomson maintains in his exposition of the words outside the Church that ‘for Barth the occurrence of salvation outside the church … is significant for the church’s own knowledge of God.’29 Again, this is true to the extent that the existence of these words teaches the Church about God’s sovereignty over creation,30 as well as the reminder that the Church cannot claim a ‘possession’ of Jesus Christ. Equating the existence of these words with salvation does not correspond to Barth’s approach.31 While it is possible, to assure this can certainly only result in ‘natural theology through the backdoor.’ This is prevented by Barth’s demand to notice these parables with gladness, yet not to systematize them at any moment. This is also the response to the second problem in Thompson’s argument that demands concrete examples from Barth. As I have shown in Chapter 1,32 Barth warns precisely against such a move, as theology will always have to respond to the existence of other lights and words in a practical rather than theoretical way.33 At this point, we can also engage briefly with the comparative theology of Francis Clooney and discuss how it relates to Barth’s approach as it has been outlined over the last chapters. There are two aspects to this engagement: On the one hand, we need to consider Clooney’s explicit engagement with Barth, and on the other hand, we need to discuss briefly how comparative theology34 relates to the pattern suggested by Barth. On the one hand, we need to consider Clooney’s opinion of Barth’s theology for the purpose of Christian engagement with other religions. In his most explicit discussion of Barth’s theological approach,35 Clooney turns to Barth’s discussion of religion in the light of revelation. No reference is made to Thompson, ‘Religious Diversity,’ p. 13, my emphasis. See for this Chapter 1, pp. 27–31.  31 Compare here Chapter 5, pp. 149–56 where I disagreed with Thompson’s equation of Rahner’s anonymous Christians and Barth’s secular parables of the kingdom. For Thompson’s argument, see Thompson, ‘Salvation Beyond the Church’s Ministry,’ particularly pp. 151–53.  32 See Chapter 1, particularly pp. 31–40.  33 Compare Chapter 2, pp. 45–81 as well as Chapter 1, pp. 27–31 and pp. 31–40 for Barth’s argument in this regard.  34 See e.g. the introductory material to comparative theology in Francis X. Clooney, ‘Comparative Theology,’ in John B. Webster, Kathryn Tanner and Iain Torrance (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 653–69.  35 See Francis X. Clooney, Hindu God, Christian God: How Reason Helps Break Down the Boundaries between Religions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), particularly pp. 131–38.  29  30

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material other than §17 of Church Dogmatics, which is, as shown throughout the first four chapters, problematic in its own right. Nonetheless, Clooney captures the material of this section well, apart from the following problems: First, as with various other critics, Clooney rejects Barth’s starting point of revelation and revelation as sole criterion for judgement of religions, i.e. Clooney argues that Barth’s ‘approach to religions is rooted in his insistence that all theological must begin with revelation, God’s communication in the incarnate Word, Jesus Christ.’36 This leads Clooney to the statement that ‘religions must be judged without compromise and their status as not-revelation clearly uncovered.’37 In a number of ways, this revisits aspects of the discussion of Chapters  1 and 2. Most notable here is the lack of a distinction between divine and human judgement on religion. Consequently, the question for Clooney here is one of alternatives: If revelation is not the starting point, where else could one have a starting point? Secondly, while it is commendable that Clooney points to some positive elements when describing Barth’s approach as a ‘mix of sympathy, Christian self-critique, and great disregard for other religions,’38 he nonetheless concludes with the assessment that Barth espouses ‘a strong, exclusive version of the Christian claim about revelation and the world “outside revelation”.’39 This leads Clooney to argue that Barth sees all of Christianity in its Protestant form as ‘true religion.’40 This is all the more surprising given that Clooney is aware of self-critique in Barth’s argument.41 Additionally, it is precisely here that careful exposition of Barth’s doctrine of revelation is absolutely crucial: As I have argued in Chapter 1,42 there is no world ‘outside revelation’ – as if this statement was humanly possible. The challenge to the Christian believer is to be aware of God’s sovereignty throughout the world, and to be challenged by this sovereignty without ever having the right to claim ownership of this divine act of revelation. In this sense, Clooney’s understanding of Barth’s approach is deficient insofar as it does not move beyond the relationship Clooney, Hindu God, p. 132. Clooney, Hindu God, p. 134.  38 Clooney, Hindu God, p. 132.  39 Clooney, Hindu God, p. 157.  40 See particularly Clooney, Hindu God, p. 135.  41 See my argument that the statement that Christianity is the true religion is a ‘statement of faith’ in Chapter 2, particularly in the opening paragraphs pp. 67–68.  42 See Chapter 1, particularly pp. 21–24.  36  37

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between revelation and religion. In summary, as I have argued at various points, one needs to move beyond precisely this point in order to grasp Barth’s approach to non-Christian religion. Linked to this understanding of Barth’s approach is, on the other hand, Clooney’s own concept of comparative theology. Comparative theology is a different category than theology of religions, as it is ‘related to but distinct from theology of religions, [designating] the work of doing one’s own theology while drawing upon the resources of other faith systems.’43 In this sense, comparative theology is a special category that does not intend to contribute to (theoretical/doctrinal) theology of religions, but much rather ‘it is a particular engagement with truths as uttered, inscribed, and enacted in traditions … since it flourishes in the particular, it creates new configurations of concepts and words, with new implications, and by so doing subtly alters how we receive even the most important of truths.’44 Consequently, the examination of other faith systems is intended to influence the individual’s Christian faith convictions. As Reinhold Bernhardt rightly contends: ‘the non-Christian phenomena become the heuristic context of discovery for the opening up of Christian contents of faith. These phenomena themselves are thereby not the primary object of interpretation, but rather the contents of the own Christian tradition, so that instead of a “theology of religions,” one might have to speak here much rather of a “theology in light of religions.”’45 For this purpose, Clooney engages in his project of comparative theology with Hinduism and sees it as contributing to ‘helpfully undermine the excessive self-confidence that arises from only what confirms our long-held views, or talking only to those with whom we already agree.’46 A complete engagement with all presuppositions and theological consequences underlying this approach would lead too far at this point. However, a few remarks regarding the way Barth would respond to this overarching concept shall be made very briefly: First, despite the fact that Clooney states that Barth never intended to be a scholar of other Kristin Beise Kiblinger, ‘Relating Theology of Religions and Comparative Theology,’ in Francis X. Clooney (ed.), The New Comparative Theology: Interreligious Insights from the Next Generation (London: Continuum, 2010), pp. 21–42 (21).  44 Francis X. Clooney, Comparative Theology: Deep Learning Across Religious Borders (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), pp. 111–12.  45 Reinhold Bernhardt, Ende des Dialogs? Die Begegnung der Religionen und ihre theologische Reflexion (Zürich: TVZ, 2005), p. 277.  46 Clooney, Comparative Theology, p. 113.  43

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religions, he understands Barth as arguing that ‘there is nothing a Hindu or Buddhist theologian could say that would make a difference.’47 The problem here is rather subtle: Barth would certainly not go as far as saying that the engagement with other religions is needed in order to come to a more appropriate understanding of doctrinal issues within Christianity. However, neither would Barth outright deny this as a possibility. This is a concrete application of Barth’s theory of lights as well as Barth’s means of revelation, as they have been outlined in detail in Chapter 1:48 Consistent with Barth’s encouragement to be open to the possibility to see lights scattered across all of creation, the statement that nothing could be said by anyone else (no matter their religious convictions or lack thereof) would be for Barth a statement limiting God’s freedom. Similarly, Barth would have no reservations about affirming different means of revelation; yet, it is for Barth just as important to warn against confessing the means of revelation as revelation proper. Consequently, Barth’s theology is comparative to the extent that he affirms the possibility that God has revealed Godself in Jesus Christ to the entirety of the universe and can use different means of revelation to point to this reality. However, Barth would never make the knowledge of God dependent on any of these means. This is particularly applicable to the argument that a ‘symptom of truth’ such as justification by faith in Amida Buddhism should not be confused with the truth as such.49 The central problem with comparative theology seems to be that it tries to make individual Christian faith dependent on what can be found in other faith communities.50 However, to which extent these individual experiences have a lasting impact on the Church community at large remains to be seen. In a conclusion to this brief discussion, one might therefore argue that Barth’s theology does not hinder the encounter with the ‘world,’ a point to which I return in the conclusion. However, Barth does not see himself as making any claims about the need for inquiry into non-Christian traditions – for the simple reason that God has decided to reveal Himself in the person of Clooney, Hindu God, p. 137. For means of revelation, see Chapter 1, pp. 27–31, for the theory of lights, see Chapter 1, pp. 31–40, as well as the application of this in the context of religion in Chapter 2, pp. 74–79.  49 See for this Chapter 2, pp. 67–74.  50 For a different, less scholarly and more personal, account of this kind of thought experiment, see Paul F. Knitter, Without Buddha I Could not be a Christian (Oxford: One World Publications, 2009).  47  48

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the Son and this revelation is complete. In this sense, proponents of comparative theology need to consider carefully whether their endeavours might not turn God into an idol rather than submitting to the divine Instructor, the Creator: ‘revelation of God means: God meets us – He, who would not be God, if he were not the One who, as the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, would consider it sufficient to meet only Himself.’51 It is therefore mandatory that, if one follows Barth, one will always need to return to the centre of the faith, the triune God, whom we will be able to confess as unchanging on a day-to-day basis. This is illustrated very well by Barth himself who says in an open letter to Christians in Japan: ‘you understand me correctly when you allow yourself to be led by that which I say to that which He says. A good theologian does not live in a casing of ideas, principles and methods. He walks through all such casings in order to become free again and again. He remains on his way.’52 Finally, it is also notable in Clooney’s work that he seems unaware of the positive reception Barth’s theology has received, particularly in Japan.53 While this might be the case because Clooney is more interested in the comparative theology between Christianity and Hinduism, rather than Buddhism, it is nonetheless notable that Barth’s theology has also been accepted in other contexts. As his theology continues to point to God, rather than any abstract principle, it offers a framework within which the Christian believer – theologian or non-theologian – can live for Christ in today’s world. Therefore, while many of these approaches certainly offer a more nuanced discussion than a mere superficial reading of §17, it has been my purpose throughout Chapters 1 to 4 to use this paragraph alongside others for the purpose of the development of a Christian theology of religions. This included, notably, the distinction between means of revelation and secular parables of the kingdom,54 the emphasis on the centrality of theological anthropology,55 CD II/1, pp. 57–58, rev.; KD II/1, p. 62. Karl Barth, ‘An japanische Christen,’ in Offene Briefe 1945–1968 (GA V.15) (ed. Diether Koch; Zürich: TVZ, 1984), pp. 370–75 (375).  53 A number of references can be made at this point, yet space does not allow an in-depth engagement with all of these sources. See e.g. Hoshino, ‘Das Verhältnis des buddhistischen Denkens zu Karl Barth,’ pp.  423–34; Katsumi Takizawa, ‘Was hindert mich noch, getauft zu werden?’ in Antwort: Karl Barth zum siebzigsten Geburtstag (Zürich: ZEV, 1956), ibid., pp. 911–25, as well as the works of Katsumi Takizawa as a whole, e.g. in Katsumi Takizawa, Das Heil im Heute – Texte einer japanischen Theologie (ed. Theo Sundermeier; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987).  54 See Chapter 1.  55 See Chapter 3.  51  52

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and the inclusion of the discussion of Barth’s doctrine of election.56 Closest to my framework might come Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, who develops a Trinitarian approach to operate within the tension between revelational restrictivism and soteriological universalism.57 However, Kärkkäinen argues for a development within Barth’s theology between §17 and §69,58 which assumes that only parts of Barth’s thought are suitable for this purpose. Together with Eberhard Jüngel,59 I have argued that Barth’s theology in its entirety can be used for a Christian theology of religions. The unifying motif of all different aspects of Barth’s theology is Jesus Christ. While, on the one hand, the overarching theme of Barth’s theology is the ‘infinite qualitative distinction’60 between God and the human being, this has, on the other hand, been bridged in the person and work of Jesus Christ. The starting point is, thus, in the person of Jesus Christ: Everything that we know from a Christian point of view about God has been revealed in Him; everything that we know about the way God deals with the human being has been revealed in Him. In this sense, Jesus Christ is, indeed He has to be, the starting point of the conversation of the Christian’s engagement with the non-Christian, ‘where Jesus Christ would be the foundation from where the conversation with the religions might possibly begin a completely new conversation.’61 As I move towards a conclusion of this study, I formulate a way to use Barth’s theology as a basis for the way the Christian can and should relate to the non-Christian. This central task will be informed by the two interconnected issues of what we know about God, as well as the subsequent topic of what we know about the way God relates to the human being.

Barth’s theology of religions – a new approach It has become obvious that Barth does not offer a full-fleshed academic engagement with non-Christian religions. While this might seem intolerant See Chapter 4. Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Religious Pluralism, particularly pp. 16–17.  58 See Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Religious Pluralism, p. 17.  59 See Jüngel, Karl Barth – A Theological Legacy, p. 50.  60 Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, p. 10.  61 Fangmeier, Der Theologe Karl Barth, p. 62.  56  57

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and/or narrow-minded at first, it is a helpful starting point to the conversation to remember that Barth encourages the Christian Church to extend great mercy and patience to members of all religions.62 The issue thereby goes beyond mere ‘tolerance’ as Barth clearly states that ‘tolerance in the sense of moderation, or superior knowledge, or scepticism is actually the worst form of intolerance. But the religion and religions must be treated with a tolerance which is [centred on the patience] of Christ, which derives therefore from the knowledge that by grace God has reconciled to Himself godless man [together with his] religion.’63 At this point, the reminder is necessary that Barth does not endorse a view that goes completely against religion as such. Contrary to the view that Barth established the basis of ‘a program for religionless Christianity,’64 my argument here is that the clear differentiation that is drawn between religion and revelation provides the foundation for Barth’s line of reasoning. While it is true that Barth is critical of religion, ‘the concern of godless man,’65 the argument that Barth sees ‘Christian revelation and religion [as] antithetical concepts,’66 betrays, on the one hand, that God reconciles the human being together with his or her religion, and, on the other hand, that revelation also functions in a positive way.67 Therefore, I am maintaining that the critical attitude to religion forms an essential part of the benefit of Barth’s approach. Instead of trying to rank religions in their closeness/distance to the Christian religion,68 or to confuse someone’s religion with the human being itself,69 Barth’s call for a critical attitude to religion, starting – and this is absolutely crucial – with one’s own, reframes the discussion to look at the way those of Christian faith can relate to those without that faith. Wolf Krötke illustrates this point by stating that ‘a theology of religions without critique of religion is … for Christian theology impossible.’70 It is a matter of fact that Compare CD I/2, p. 326; KD I/2, p. 357. CD I/2, p. 299, rev.; KD I/2, p. 326.  64 Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger [Pope Benedict XVI], Truth and Tolerance – Christian Belief and World Religions (trans. Henry Taylor; San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2004), p. 50.  65 CD I/2, p. 300; KD I/2, p. 327.  66 Paul Hedges, Controversies in Interreligious Dialogue and the Theology of Religions (London: SCM Press, 2010), p. 148.  67 Compare Chapter 2, pp. 50–53 and my exposition of the term Aufhebung there.  68 See Barth’s refusal to do this, e.g. in conversation with Rahner, Chapter 5, pp. 157–64.  69 See Barth’s argument that religion and other characteristics are ‘not man himself ’ in The Christian Life, p. 269; Das Christliche Leben, pp. 466–67.  70 Wolf Krötke, ‘Impulse für eine Theologie der Religionen im Denken Karl Barths,’ Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 104 (2007), pp. 320–35 (334).  62  63

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Barth has been misunderstood as aiming for an absoluteness of the Christian religion,71 and it is precisely this claim for absolute truth of the Christian religion that Hinrich Stoevesandt correctly denies.72 Put differently, a first key aspect in this approach is thus primarily introspectively: Christians are called to show in humility that they do not have a monopoly on the truth by their mere adherence to the Christian religion. Consequently, Barth’s point is that Christian faith as a response to God’s revelation is, at its core, ‘not a religion … [but] the echo and the reflex of a movement that does not originate in the human being and is carried out by him, but a movement that simply happens to the human being and simply needs to be responded to by him.’73 This is the main reason why the present study took its starting point in Barth’s doctrine of revelation (Chapter 1) over his position on religion (Chapter 2). This is reflected in two aspects of this approach: On the one hand, it results in a high degree of solidarity between those of Christian faith and those who do not have a Christian faith. The shared co-humanity74 encompassing all human beings is central here: ‘we recognise and confess that not we alone, nor the community which, following the prophets and apostles, believes in Him and loves Him and hopes in Him, but de iure [every human being, even the whole creature derives] from His cross, from the reconciliation accomplished in Him, and are ordained to be the theatre of His glory and therefore the recipients and bearers of His Word.’75 This means that the non-existent claim to absolute truth enables the Christian to ‘sit down next to the unbeliever in the dock (aufs Sünderbänkchen), and then we can also talk to them; we are just as embarrassed, but we also have the same hope.’76 This shared co-humanity is, thus, far more than a simple sense of superiority of the own religion, as they cannot claim ownership to the reconciliation achieved in For the argument against this, see Barth’s conversation with Hick on this topic, in Chapter 6, pp. 196–200.  72 Compare Hinrich Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit – Die Christus bekennende Kirche inmitten der Vielfalt der Religionen,’ Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 102 (2005), pp. 204–25 (225), where he denies any claim for absolute truth – apart from the claim of Jesus Christ in Jn 17.1 that the hour has come for Him, and for Him alone, that God the Father might be glorified in His death.  73 Karl Barth, ‘Das Christentum und die Religion,’ Junge Kirche 24 (1963), pp.  436–38 (437). I am grateful to Dr. Hans-Anton Drewes, former head of the Barth-Archive in Basel, for pointing me to this article.  74 See Chapter 3, pp. 96–104 on the human being in relationship.  75 CD IV/3.1, p. 117, rev.; KD IV/3.1, p. 130.  76 Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Göttinger Studenten,’ p. 148. See also the concluding part of Chapter 3, as well as pp. 104–10, where the wider context of this quote is explained.  71

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Jesus Christ. Again, in Barth’s own words, this means: ‘With Jesus Christ, you [non-Christians] are confronted as well, whether you know it already or not, no matter where you come, no matter which visible or disguised religion you belong to … He has died for all human beings and he lives for all of them.’77 Just as the reconciliation achieved in Jesus’ life and death is therefore not the ‘property’ of the Christian believer, it is precisely the life and death of this person that makes them universally applicable: ‘Theological statements are … truth claims bearing universal intent, although they can claim no universal demonstrability, but rest on a series of ultimate faith commitments.’78 At its core, the Christian message is therefore one that proclaims the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but does so as a call to faith, in awareness that the Christian is always responding to God’s grace. Consequently, the Christological focus that was detected throughout the first part means that it is applied in the following way: Through the divine Yes to all of humanity in the person of Jesus Christ, it can only mean that the Christian Church and her members are called to be alongside all those who are not aware of this Divine Yes to humanity. Put differently, the fact that the Christian community is aware of this divine grace means that they are in no position to be judge over others. This does not mean that Christians will also have to say ‘No’ to issues. However, God’s ‘Yes’ to humanity has to be proclaimed in word and deed by the Christian, again, both individually and corporately, and the Christians’ ‘a priori is not a cause, however great, necessary, or splendid it may appear to be or is. It is the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ.’79 The common feature of all these aspects of the character of God is Barth’s refusal to see any overarching principle to reign over God’s sovereignty and freedom. While it is true that we can know God’s character from the way He has been revealed in Jesus Christ and in His word, the ‘infinite qualitative distinction’ between God and the human being remains in the way that God remains God, and the human being remains human.80 Against Rahner’s anonymous Christians, Barth suggests an openness to the

Barth, ‘Das Christentum und die Religion,’ p. 438. Hart, ‘Truth, the Trinity and Pluralism,’ p. 137.  79 The Christian Life, p. 268, Das Christliche Leben, p. 464.  80 See e.g. Chapter 1, pp. 11–17 on how this relates to revelation or Chapter 3, pp. 89–96 in the context of theological anthropology.  77  78

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possibility that others have also been encountered by God’s revelation.81 Yet, instead of formalizing this in the way Rahner suggests with the anonymous Christian, Barth leaves this possibility based on God’s action rather than a principle. Similarly, the point about asserting different means of revelation, while pairing this with a warning not to become ‘prophets’ of these means,82 shows that a degree of openness to God and God’s working throughout all aspects and spheres of creation does not coincide with a fixed formula. Thus, while it is true that Barth did not achieve ‘the concrete process of making the dimensions and signs of God’s truth which we can encounter in all religions visible,’83 it should be equally clear that this was not something that Barth desired to achieve. The two aspects of openness to God being able to use unfamiliar media and the refusal to systematize these in a principle go therefore hand in hand in Barth’s thought. Yet, I want to push this issue further – what are the characteristics of God that Barth portrays? As has become apparent throughout the first four chapters, God in Barth’s theology is clearly Trinitarian, and, consequently, relational.84 Kärkkäinen maintains that ‘Barth fails in his trinitarian doctrine exactly in the aim that was its original intention, namely, to provide the criterion for distinguishing the Christian God.’85 The Christological focus of the development of Barth’s theology in a context of engaging with non-Christians justifies this claim in part. On the one hand, it is certainly correct that the ‘insistence on the unity of the triune God to the point of eschewing any kind of terminology of distinct “persons”,’86 leads Barth to a position that has been described as Christomonism.87 Indeed, the Christological focus that I have stressed throughout the first part and that I am maintaining in this concluding chapter could be interpreted into this direction. However, on the other hand, the Christological focus is balanced through the emphasis on the work of the Spirit in the act of faith. Thus, the emphasis on Jesus Christ in the context of See Chapter 1, pp. 31–40 on Barth’s Lichterlehre, and Chapter 5, pp. 157–64, for the contrast between Barth and Rahner in this context.  82 See the contrast between Barth and Tillich in Chapter 1, pp. 40–43.  83 Krötke, ‘Impulse…,’ p. 335.  84 I am using the term relational here not as synonym for Trinitarian, but as a part of the consequence of God’s Trinitarian character.  85 Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Religious Pluralism, p. 26.  86 Ibid.  87 See Chapter 1, pp. 17–21 and the argument there for the theological task between the two extremes of Christomonism and anthropocentrism.  81

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Barth’s argument of the Aufhebung of religion is pursued within the broader context of ‘The Outpouring of the Holy Spirit.’88 As a worthwhile reminder here, this is made possible through the incorporation of the doctrine of the Trinity from the very beginning into Barth’s theological thought, where in revelation ‘God reveals Himself. He reveals Himself through Himself. He reveals Himself. If we really want to understand revelation in terms of its subject, i.e., God, then the first thing we have to realise is that this subject, God, the Revealer, is identical with His act in revelation and also identical with its effect.’89 With this return to the doctrine of revelation, the argument comes therefore full circle. The same is also evident in other aspects of Barth’s theology. For example, ‘they [the Christians] confess solidarity at every point with man himself, they show themselves to be his companions and friends without worrying about his garb or mask, and they make his cause their own. Knowing what he for the most part does not know, namely, that those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, that those who, however mistakenly or strangely or impotently, ask after and seek the right and dignity of man, have God on their side and will be satisfied [Mt. 5.6], they cannot separate this from him no matter what name he bears or what kind of man he is.’90 It is here where the complex approach to universalism91 is of great usefulness, as Barth reminds the Christian community that they look at those without a Christian faith in the following way: ‘How does it stand in detail with [the creature who wants to] and must demonstrate and express their freedom without the knowledge of Jesus Christ, without enlightenment by the Easter event, and therefore without realising that their reconciliation with God is accomplished? Jesus Christ has died and risen again for [him] too. He is [his] Lord and Head and Saviour too. In Him [he], too, [is] reconciled to God. His Word comes to [him] too.’92 This is a statement of faith for the Christian that has to be maintained and held in balance with the fact that the Christian believer cannot approach others simply as future brother or sister,93 an important distinction from the formalized relationship See Table of Contents for volume I/2 of CD/KD, CD I/2, p. viii and KD I/2, p. vii. CD I/1, p. 296; KD I/1, p. 312.  90 The Christian Life, p. 270; Das Christliche Leben, p. 468.  91 See Chapter 4, particularly pp. 130–38.  92 CD IV/3.1, p. 337, rev.; KD IV/3.1, p. 389.  93 See The Christian Life, p. 271; Das Christliche Leben, p. 470.  88  89

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of an anonymous Christian. The solidarity with others is founded on the Cross and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, not on the possibility that others might be encountered by the Gospel. How does this solidarity work out in practice? For our context here, there are a number of aspects that are of particular importance. First, it has to be highlighted that the starting point of all of Barth’s theology in revelation and derived from God (von Gott her) results in the supremacy of divine judgement and cannot translate into a human judgement. We saw this already earlier in the context of religion94 where the revelation of God worked as the Aufhebung of religion in the sense of showing that religion cannot stand on its own. The judgement of religion as unbelief was to be applied to all religions, however, the divine judgement does not – indeed must not – correspond to a human judgement. When asked about this approach towards the end of his life, Barth explains the approach in the following way: I cannot speak for others. That is not a judgement on people of other religions or convictions – that is not the way. But if I believe, then I believe not for myself alone but also for others; I believe also for those people who have another religion. It is certainly very sad that they have these other religions, and I am here to be a witness to them. But my witness does not imply judging them; I must not judge them, but I may give them a witness of faith. And then, if they come to believe, it doesn’t mean that they pass from one religion to another – a completely false concept of Christianity – but that they may come to God, because God has come to them – that is far more than a religion.95

We will return to the question of how an engagement with Barth’s theology for the development of a Christian theology of religions has to go beyond the question of religion below. Instructive in this regard is also an engagement with one of Barth’s lecture from the later stages of his life. In ‘The Humanity of God’ (1956), Barth draws together some of the implications of God’s incarnation. A full engagement with this text would be out of place at this point; however, some points are of crucial importance here and serve as an excellent illustration of the points made here. See Chapter 2, pp. 60–67 and the introductory comments there. Barth, ‘Fragebeantwortung bei der Konferenz der World Student Christian Federation,’ p. 433. The German text is on p. 114 of the same volume.

 94  95

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In Barth’s theology, the human being is distinguished by the fact of being human. We touched upon this in the context of theological anthropology and the imago Dei,96 yet Barth makes this feature of the human being a primary characteristic of the Christian perspective in the engagement with the world: ‘On the basis of the eternal will of God we have to think of every human being, even the oddest, most villainous or miserable, as one [who has in Jesus Christ his or her brother and in God Himself his or her Father].’97 This is the fundamental determination of every human being, and, for the purpose here, it forms the core aspect of the Christian understanding of the non-Christian in Barth’s theology: ‘The human being as himself is not isolated from God or against God. Whether he believes or not, he is as such determined for God. And this determination of the human being for God cannot be destroyed.’98 Central to this first aspect is that it is meant to be a challenge to the Christian believer, as ‘on the basis of the knowledge of the humanity of God no other attitude to any kind of fellow man is possible. It is identical with the practical acknowledgement of his human rights and his human dignity. To deny it [this attitude] to him would be for us to renounce having Jesus Christ as Brother and God as Father.’99 For that reason, the Christian is called, both individually and as part of the Christian Church, to be firmly in the world and to take God’s Yes to humanity seriously by being open to God’s freedom, ‘to produce even in human activity and its results, in spite of the problems involved, parables (Gleichnisse) of His own eternal good will and actions.’100 This is the first consequence of the humanity of God. Secondly, Barth argues that God’s humanity prescribes to the theological discourse and culture a very specific theme. For the purpose here, it is noticeable that Barth defends again a Christological focus: ‘For this reason theology can think and speak only as it looks to Jesus Christ and from the vantage point that He is. It cannot introduce Him. Neither can it bring about that dialogue, history, and communion. It has [no disposition of] these

See Chapter 3, pp. 89–96 and 96–104. The Humanity of God, p. 53, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 16.  98 Barth, ‘Fragebeantwortung bei der Konferenz der World Student Christian Federation,’ p. 109.  99 The Humanity of God, p. 53, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 17. 100 The Humanity of God, p.  55; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p.  18. See Chapter 1, pp. 31–40 and the argument there for Christian openness to ‘other lights.’  96  97

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things.’101 We touched upon this very point in the previous two sections of this chapter: Just as an awareness of who God is is needed in engaging in any theological discourse, a sensitivity to the way God relates to the human being is also needed. Both of these aspects are important, yet a human concept cannot prescribe the character of God. Indeed, one of the themes of my discussion of Barth’s theological discourse has been this point: Whether in revelation, religion, theological anthropology or justification, the question becomes nothing less than a question of priorities. Barth asks with regard to the pursuit of the theological task in light of God’s revelation, ‘whether theology as theology, whether the church as church, and finally, whether faith as faith are willing to take themselves or rather the basis of themselves seriously, and are capable thereof.’102 God, through the incarnation, has spoken His Yes to the human being, and it is therefore not the Christian’s place to prescribe to God certain areas of presence or ways of action, as this would be an infringement upon God’s freedom. A third aspect immediately follows from this: God’s humanity needs to be reflected in the way theology is pursued, i.e., ‘a definite attitude and alignment of Christian theological thinking and speaking.’103 Here we find the reason for the impossibility to use Barth’s theology in an abstract way as engaging Christian and non-Christian religion: God’s humanity means that theology ‘can never approach its subject matter in a vacuum, never in mere theory. Theology cannot fix upon, consider, and put into words any truths which rest on or are moved by themselves – neither an abstract truth about God nor about man, nor about the intercourse between God and man.’104 As pointed out repeatedly, the more abstract question of the relationship between Christianity and non-Christian religions will be less fruitful in Barth’s context. Thus, it is only logical consequence here to apply this argument against human judgement of religion105 also to members of these religions, be their association with a religion ever so vague. Again, this needs to be qualified insofar as it does not mean that Christians will still be called out to speak out against things that are against injustice and The Humanity of God, p. 55, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 18. CD I/2, p. 283, rev.; KD I/2, p. 308. See also Chapter 2, n. 48 and my comment there. 103 The Humanity of God, p. 57; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 20. 104 The Humanity of God, p. 57; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 20. 105 See Chapter 2, pp. 60–67 for the argument that the divine judgement of religion as unbelief cannot translate into a corresponding human judgement. 101 102

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inequality’ however, none of these can dictate their commitment to Jesus Christ. The issue becomes, thus, one of the role of the apologetics and the role of the Christian and his or her discourse. The ‘God above’ is called to be the subject and object of the Christian speech, with the aim that the non-Christian comes to the recognition of ‘his own God in the deity of Jesus Christ as well as himself in His humanity.’106 Just as the Christian is not called to be the gatekeeper with regard to the question of salvation107 – a point to which we return below – the application of the humanity of God is here that, with that humanity, the human being still does not become God. Just as the imago Dei hints at a correspondence to God108 in the sense of the distinction that I outlined in the first point made here, it denies equality with God by asserting that, through Christian speech, the encounter with God will not automatically be facilitated: ‘That this [i.e. the knowledge of Jesus Christ as his own God, and as the recipient of His grace] might happen (widerfahren) to the non-Christian, this might not be supplied by theological thought and speech … but it can be conducive (dienlich) to that purpose, and thus, corresponding to the humanity of God, it has to be geared towards this conduciveness.’109 In practical terms, this means that the language used by the Christian in theological pursuit should be understandable and graspable for those both within and without the Christian community. Barth says, thus, in response to the possibility of addressing non-Christians: ‘That makes no difference to me,’ and then continues by stating that ‘It would be quite dreadful if the faith of Christians should aim at sundering and separating one man from the others.’110 Thus, after the theme of Christian discourse, it is now possible to proceed to the content of that message. In the light of the humanity of God, Barth maintains, fourthly, that the Christian message and discourse will have to be characterized by a basic tone that is positive and characterizes the Gospel as that what it is supposed to be, i.e. Good News. Without re-rehearsing the argument from Chapter 4, where this aspect was already evident in the context of election,111 the humanity of

The Humanity of God, p. 58; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 21. See the analysis of Barth’s stance in universalism in Chapter 4, especially pp. 130–38. See Chapter 3, particularly pp. 96–104. 109 The Humanity of God, p. 58, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 21. 110 Dogmatics in Outline, p. 84; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 110. 111 See Chapter 4, pp. 118–30 and the introductory comments there about Barth’s understanding of election in Church Dogmatics. 106 107 108

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God means thus a positive message of the Christian engaging with the world, that ‘to open up again the abyss closed in Jesus Christ cannot be our task.’112 This does certainly not mean that the Christian will say nothing but Yes and Amen to every human project and aspiration, as one deals here with another example of the point made above in ‘Barth’s Theology in the field of Christian theology of religions’ (pp. 214–23) that argued against any principle set above God. Therefore, Christians, ‘looking always to the only problem that seriously and finally interests them, must allow themselves the liberty in certain circumstances of saying only a partial Yes or No where a total one is expected, or a total Yes or No where a partial one is expected, or of saying Yes today where they said No yesterday, and vice versa. Their total and definitive decision is for man and not for any cause.’113 This is neither encouraging self-centeredness – as one might think based on the emphasis on the only problem that interests them – nor does it lead to arbitrariness. Instead, Barth encourages here a high degree of solidarity with other human beings in light of the humanity of God, a solidarity that is founded on the ‘affirmation (Bejahung) of the human being.’114 The Christian’s solidarity with those without Christian faith involves therefore the looking beyond any differences based on human categories: They [the Christians] will not see him [the human being] as the member of this or that country or sociological stratum, nor as the type of this or that psychological category, nor as one who believes in this or that doctrine of salvation or perdition. They will not see him as a good citizen or a convict, as the representative of a conviction or party that they find agreeable or painful, as a Christian or a non-Christian, as a good or bad, a practicing or non-practicing Christian. [Naturally, they will incidentally see him also as the bearer of one or several of these garbs or masks]… All this is good and right and relevant, but Christians cannot stop here, looking only at mankind in these disguises. These are not man himself.115

This means that the Christian is certainly to be called into the world and engage with others, a point that I already made in the first aspect of the humanity of God. However, in order to achieve this solidarity, the one persistent message of the Christian to the world is one of witness to the Good News of Christ, The Humanity of God, p. 60; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 22. The Christian Life, p. 268; Das Christliche Leben, p. 464. 114 The Humanity of God, p. 60; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 22. 115 The Christian Life, p. 269, rev.; Das Christliche Leben, pp. 466–67. 112 113

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‘the task of bringing the gospel to light (zum Leuchten zu bringen), [however,] is more urgent (vordringlicher) than manifesting that earnestness [of uncovering misunderstandings] and bringing this gift [of penetrating analysis] into play.’116 Here, one encounters the image of light, which I discussed in great detail in Chapter 1,117 and against the context here, it is necessary to clarify that the message and the messenger are two very distinct entities. Christians are called to be ‘witnesses, shining lights of hope, to all men. They have to make the promise known to them in its direct wording and sense as a call to faith.’118 There are two aspects here that need particular attention: On the one hand, the ‘infinite qualitative distinction’ between God and the human being is through this light analogy as particular aspect of the humanity of God not erased. Linked to the point made above with regard to the attitude of the theological message denying equality of God and the human being, but hinting at correspondence, it is essential that God remains the Creator and the human being the creature: ‘God is on the throne. In the existence of Jesus Christ, the fact that God speaks, gives, orders, comes absolutely first (geht … schlechterdings voran) – that man hears, receives, obeys, can and must only follow (folgen) this first act.’119 This means, therefore, that the call to be lights of hope will only be possible due to and through the dependency on the light who is the light of the world, an aspect that was discussed in Chapter 1 in the context of Barth’s theory of lights,120 but also in the context of religion, and the call for the Christian religion to be the human face of revelation.121 As Krötke aptly summarizes in this context: ‘What mattered to him (Barth) was that the Christian community explains to the human beings of other religious conviction that they are respected and regarded as God’s creatures by Christians, just as God respects and regards them … The illumination of humankind with the light of his (God’s) truth is only in his hands.’122 Therefore, as children of God, Christians are called to be salt (Mt 5.13) and light (Mt 5.14) to the world, they ‘are ordained, engaged, empowered, and separated to [declare aloud] this witness in its [the world’s] midst. They owe it to

The Humanity of God, p. 61, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 23. See Chapter 1, pp. 31–40. The Christian Life, p. 270; Das Christliche Leben, p. 469. 119 The Humanity of God, p. 48; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 12. 120 See again Chapter 1, pp. 31–40. 121 See Chapter 2, pp. 55–60. 122 Krötke, ‘Impulse…,’ p. 335, emphasis in original. 116 117 118

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their Lord, the world, and not least their own existence to do this.’123 This leads, on the other hand, to the necessary distinction between the Christian existence as individual and as member of the Christian community. As was the case when examining Barth’s doctrine of election,124 being an individual Christian and being part of the Christian community are intimately linked, while not the same (i.e. the individual encounter with God, or being encountered by God, is central to Barth’s theology), yet it is equally important to consider the group of Christian believers, ‘the acknowledgement of God’s work accomplished in Him (Jesus Christ) implies that it has taken [for us (pro nobis)] and thus only in this way also [for me (pro me)].’125 Fifthly and finally, the humanity of God also implies that the Christian community takes itself seriously. As said in the previous comment, this entails that the individual Christian is called to be part of the Christian community and actively involved in it. I am drawing attention here again to the Christian community in its religious form to be considered to be the ‘human face of revelation’126 and to be always dependent upon the revelation rather than to become independent and move beyond it. In the words of ‘Barth’s Theology of religions – a new approach’ (pp. 223–40) above, it is absolutely essential to continue to look to God together in praise and prayer, in reliance on His word, and to do so through the work of the Holy Spirit and, in this sense, not to have ‘any other gods beside Him.’ Being part of the Christian community is, thus, never for the sake of religion; ‘event precedes institution,’127 which is a concise way to express the reality that no principle should be ruling over God (as stated in pp. 223–40). Therefore, the reminder in this context is clear insofar as the way engagement between the Christian community and non-Christians also entails a large degree of reflection on the own faith and to the different attitudes to which the Christian community is called: ‘What is the existence of this particular people but the reflection of the humanity of God, although it is admittedly everywhere blurred and darkened and in its continuity all too often interrupted?’128 It is here where the dynamic between The Christian Life, p. 97, rev.; Das Christliche Leben, pp. 158–59. See here Chapter 4, particularly pp. 118–30. 125 The Humanity of God, p. 63, rev.; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 25. 126 See Chapter 2, pp 55–60. 127 The Humanity of God, p. 63; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 25. 128 The Humanity of God, pp. 63–64; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 25. 123 124

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the universality of God’s universal salvific will and the particularity of the Christian community becomes evident: ‘What Jesus Christ is for God and for us, on earth and in time, He is as Lord of this community, as King of this people, as Head of this body and of all its members … He is all these as the Reconciler and Redeemer of the whole world.’129 Again, one might emphasize here that the ‘infinite qualitative distinction’ between God and the human being is maintained also in this regard. Precisely because of the Christian confession that declares Jesus Christ as Lord, i.e. someone else, divine and human judgement cannot and should not intermingle. As Stoevesandt states here powerfully: ‘The universality of His grace remains for our eyes enclosed in the confession to His extremely particular name: imperatively enclosed. It is prohibited to us through the confession to set limits to it [the universality of grace] where for our recognition this name is blasphemed or denied.’130 However, just as true is the other aspect of this: ‘Simultaneously, it is prohibited to us through this confession to trivialize the line between the faith in Christ and unbelief, the line between this faith and a different faith (Andersglauben) and possibly describe the universal action of God in the wide world of the religions with a “Here it is!” or “There it is!” (cf. Lk. 17.21) by anticipating God’s freedom.’131 Both of these aspects taken together illustrate not only the Yes that is spoken in Jesus Christ to all human beings, but it is a reminder of Barth’s stance on universalism that claims ‘I do not believe in universalism, but I believe in the universal reconciler Jesus Christ,’132 as well as the divine judgement on religion as unbelief that cannot translate into human judgement. Thus, does Barth’s theology ‘deliver’ for Christian theology of religions? Here, I also need to address the question of my own position on Barth’s approach. I firmly believe that Barth’s theology as I have interpreted it throughout the first four chapters can serve as a framework and resource for the Christian Church faced with a context of multiple religions. Drawing on these chapters and their implications from the conversations with Rahner and Hick in Chapters 5 and 6, I am maintaining this for the following reasons: The Humanity of God, p. 64; Die Menschlichkeit Gottes, p. 26. Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit,’ pp. 222–23. 131 Ibid., p. 223. 132 Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern,’ p. 189. 129 130

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First, Barth’s doctrine of revelation in its Trinitarian shape and with its Christocentric directionality has been established as the basis of all of Barth’s theology. Barth is careful not to point to this or that aspect where revelation might occur, and warns particularly against becoming ‘prophets’ of particular, unfamiliar ways that God has used as a means of revelation. Hence, the Christocentrism does not encourage distance from the world, but a view that acknowledges the sovereignty of God throughout all creation. This is not to deny the presence of many forces and truth claims scattered throughout creation, ‘but all of these do not belong to that in which Christians can build their trust in life and death; they are strictly to be distinguished from that which the Church is called to proclaim.’133 In the confession of faith, the Church thereby exposes herself to be challenged in her engagement with the world; however, those making the confession will always have to return to the fact that it is Jesus Christ who is proclaimed. In this sense, the Christian Church in the world will need to avoid the following two pitfalls: On the one hand, the Church cannot become a community that is self-centred and selfsufficient. Revelation will never be able to be ‘chained’ to the Church; Jesus Christ is her Lord, not vice versa.134 On the other hand, the Church will also be called to live in the constant primary dependency on revelation,135and not be intimidated to accommodate her message to the world’s demands.136 The Christian Church and, indeed, theology ‘will never be justified by its work but only, if at all, by the forgiveness of sins.’137 All this is done by allowing to be challenged by the world, and to acknowledge that ‘God may speak to us through a pagan or an atheist, and thus give us to understand that the boundary between the Church and the secular world can still take at any time a different course from that which we think we discern.’138 Secondly, with regard to religion, it is important to acknowledge the directionality of the examination of religion. The strict a priori of revelation when speaking about religion, and, further still, the self-critical attitude towards the

Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit,’ p. 206. See The Christian Life, pp. 136–37; Das Christliche Leben, pp. 224–26. See here Chapter 2, pp. 55–60 on the Church as ‘human face of revelation.’ 136 See The Christian Life, pp. 137–40; Das Christliche Leben, pp. 227–31. 137 Barth, ‘Das erste Gebot als theologisches Axiom,’ p. 143. In English translation (quoted in the text above), this is available in Rumscheidt, The Way of Theology in Karl Barth, p. 78. 138 CD I/1, p. 55; KD I/1, p. 56. 133 134 135

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own religion, which precedes any judgement of other religion, forms the basis of Barth’s approach. As any classification of religions according to human categories is discouraged,139 yet also because too large an emphasis on religion (by seeing it as an independent entity that is not judged by any criterion) is avoided,140 Barth succeeds in offering a theology of religions that is fully aware of religion but refuses to put it centre stage. Barth’s position succeeds, thus, by being clearly positioned within Christian theology, challenging the Christian community to become more faithful to revelation. By doing so, it proclaims the Good News of the Gospel that God has reconciled them in Jesus Christ together with their religion. Thirdly, with regard to theological anthropology, Barth’s theology offers a helpful basis by arguing, on the one hand, for the distinction between God and the human being, and, on the other hand, by affirming the intrinsic human dignity that transcends all human categories. Crucially, the starting point in revelation provides the basis for the affirmation of the human being itself. The way God relates to the human being is, thus, characterized by grace, visible most clearly in the divine Yes to the human being, which we have pointed to throughout this chapter. God, as Creator, creates ‘man as the one whom He summons into life (den Menschen als zu seinem Aufgerufenen),’141 and by doing so, longs for obedience from His creatures. Certainly, the Yes is not dependent on this obedience, a point to which I return below. However, as God addresses the individual, the demand for obedience is a direct result of this relationship: ‘The obedience of Christians follows from the fact that in Jesus Christ they may recognize God as his Father and theirs, and themselves as his children. Obedience is their action to the extent that it is ventured in invocation of God, in which, liberated thereto by his Holy Spirit, they may take God at his word as their Father and take themselves seriously as his children.’142 This is not to deny either human freedom in general, nor to qualify the divine Yes to humanity in its entirety. However, as the Christian Church invites others to come to faith and proclaim the Good News of the Gospel in thought, word

See Chapter 5, particularly pp. 157–64 for this contrast with Rahner. See Chapter 6, particularly pp. 196–200 for the contrast with Hick. 141 CD III/2, p. 155; KD III/2, p. 186. 142 The Christian Life, p. 49; Das Christliche Leben, p. 75. This is the introductory statement to §76, and emphasized in its entirety. 139 140

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and deed, the Christian Church will always have to remember who they are as God’s children. Fourth and finally, Barth’s warning that the Christian cannot be judge over anyone’s salvation is essential with regard to the perspective from which the Christian Church engages with those without a Christian faith. I have touched upon this aspect already earlier, particularly in Chapter 4, (pp. 130–38) Jesus Christ as the basis of Barth’s theology is thereby the key to this approach. Certainly, faith and the invitation to faith from the Christian community also play a major role. However, the reason why Barth is calling for radical openness to universalism, yet refuses an outright commitment to anything but the universal reconciler Jesus Christ, is found here.143 As it is Jesus Christ who is at the centre of Barth’s theology and his doctrine of election, the fundamental emphasis will always remain on the proclamation of this Good News, as ‘nowhere can it be the case of the confession, not to mention the case of theology, to anticipate God’s judgement and to decide on whether, in the end, salvation is granted to all people, or only to a subsection of them, or to anticipate the criterion, manageable to us, by which God will decide on this selection.’144 By maintaining this tension between divine sovereignty and human responsibility, Barth offers a meaningful framework in which to discuss salvation. A final note is necessary in this context here: As God is above creation, God is also above any principle, i.e. no criterion can be put above God. I touched upon this point in the context of Hick’s pluralism and his ethical criterion to determine the truthfulness of religion,145 but here this also serves to call into question the more recent suggestion of a global world ethic that stands above the religions.146 While it is true that those who profess the Christian faith are also called to give an expression to their faith in thought, word and deed,147 none of these can be put above God who is the Maker of these thoughts, words and deeds. This is precisely Barth’s point when he argues that, on one level, ‘the elements and problems in the basic outlook of all religions [are] the Barth, ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern,’ p. 189. Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit,’ p. 221. 145 See Chapter 6, pp. 184–85. 146 For the following, see Küng, Global Responsibility: In Search of a New World Ethic (London: SCM Press, 1991). For the ethical criteria, see particularly pp. 56–64. 147 Compare here Chapter 2, pp. 55–60. 143 144

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same as those of Christian doctrine: the world’s beginning and end, the origin and nature of man, moral and religious law, sin and redemption.’148 However, and this is of crucial importance, the statement about different doctrines, the common idea of an ethical concern for ‘human well-being’ (a phrase borrowed from Hans Küng), do not and cannot lead to a presupposition and statement about God, especially not from an adherent to one religion about another religion, or, further still, about all religions. Notably, therefore, one needs to emphasize here that I made this last statement from a Christian point of view only about the Christian community – a presupposition about other faith groups or people of no faith and their ethical commitment cannot be made. Certainly, one might be able to call for aspects of this common world ethic, yet to generalize from a common ethical concern to some kind of theological claim will not be advisable:149 ‘The theological question is much rather whether the confession of Christ allows for it to describe the ethical behaviour of the human being to be the decisive criterion for God’s truth.’150 This is what Barth’s theology delivers for the Christian living in a multireligious society: An invitation to the Christian community to come to a better understanding of the God they believe in, and share the Good News of the grace they have received in Him with those who do not know Him yet, while being open to the possibility of God speaking through them in unfamiliar ways; however, doing so in awareness of grace and respecting the human dignity bestowed upon all human beings.

Conclusion In the early 1980s, Race argued with regard to the coexistence of different religions: There are those who now believe … that the future of Christian theology lies in the encounter between Christianity and other faiths. If they are correct in this, CD I/2, p. 282; KD I/2, p. 307. Concrete examples of this would be e.g. Knitter, Without Buddha, to which I referred above in my brief discussion of comparative theology. Knitter works from a framework that Buddhist spirituality can help Christian faith, maintaining that ‘I can’t imagine being a Christian and a theologian without this engagement with Buddhism’ (p. viii). 150 Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit,’ p. 214. 148 149

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then the Christian theology of religions need present no apologia for adding one more specialism to Christian theological enterprise as a whole. Rather, it ought to rejoice at being at the frontiers of the next phase in Christian history.151

If this is the issue at the heart of Christian theology of non-Christian religions, then Barth’s theology is more than adequate for exactly this purpose. As I have shed further light onto different aspects of Barth’s theological thought under the overarching purpose of developing precisely such a theological appropriation, it has become obvious that against his critics, Barth’s theology is never eliminating and shutting down any conversation between Christians and non-Christians. While remaining firmly rooted within the Christian faith, Barth does not avoid difficult questions, but much rather challenges the members of the Christian community to see their presuppositions challenged in the most unexpected circumstances, while looking beyond human categories to affirm the dignity bestowed upon all of humanity through the divine Yes in the person of Jesus Christ. The reading, interpretation and application of Barth’s thought, with its different emphases centred on the grace personified in the person of Jesus Christ, provides a helpful basis for the Christian Church as it experiences different faiths on a daily basis, and gives an example of a framework that is ‘both open and faithfully committed to its tradition-specific way of narrating the world.’152 This is made possible through the work of Jesus Christ, ‘it is the extreme particularity that makes the universality of the work and word of Jesus Christ possible in the first place (überhaupt erst); the particularity is the precondition of the universality.’153 Further still, it has become obvious that Race is correct insofar that it is not absolutely essential to have a separate subsection or specialism in a theological system in order to meet the goal of providing a basis for a Christian theology of religions. In this regard, it is a worthwhile reminder that a theological understanding of non-Christian religions can be achieved not only in spite of, but precisely because of Barth’s critical stance of religion. Barth’s theology is, thus, more than suitable ‘to account theologically for the meaning and value of other religions.’154 Does Barth offer answers to all questions within the way Race, Christians and Religious Pluralism, p. xi. D’Costa, The Meeting of Religions and the Trinity, p. 138. 153 Stoevesandt, ‘Wehrlose Wahrheit,’ p. 221. 154 Kärkkäinen, Trinity and Religious Pluralism, p. 2. 151 152

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Christian theology can understand and engage with other faiths? Certainly not. However, Barth provides with his argument a framework that is built on the work achieved by Jesus Christ. This results in a position characterized by openness to God’s revelation being possible extras muros ecclesiae and using unexpected means for revelation, a critical attitude towards any religion, especially one’s own, the reminder of the inherent dignity bestowed upon all human beings and with the emphasis on the divine Yes spoken in the Cross and Resurrection. By doing so, Barth’s theology will always have to be adapted to different circumstances, yet it is a truly Christian framework as it is built on this Christological foundation. As the Christian community, both individually and corporately, look to Him and point to Him in their thought, word and deed, they are called to do so in the assurance that in Him, all of God’s promises are ‘Yes’ (2 Cor. 1.20). In this sense, the question of ‘whether theology will ever overcome the prolegomena on Christology’ can indeed be answered: ‘It could be that with the prolegomena everything is said,’155 as Barth’s theology always returns to its starting point in Jesus Christ. Thus, what remains? To Christians, as they live alongside non-Christians, Barth’s theology offers a framework for the Christian theology of religions that looks beyond differences in human categories in this world to the One who has ‘overcome the world’ (Jn 16.33). As Christians live in this world, they are reminded to point in thought, word and deed to the God who has said Yes in His Son to the human being, and to live in the awareness that the following is true of everyone: Have we not all thought at times that the most secure thing one could have would be exactly this: a solid inner foothold, character and faith in oneself? Certainly, this is a good thing to have. But: ‘if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!’ (1 Corinthians 10:12)… No, one can certainly not hold on to one’s own character, the good in oneself. No, one can indeed not have faith in one’s own faith. This could only result in disaster. One can and may only hold on to the fact that God is for us. You can only believe that Jesus Christ died and rose again for you… Whether I am weak or strong, whether I stand or fall, have doubts or peace in my heart, walk in darkness or light: ‘my unfailing love

Karl Barth, ‘Das Wort Gottes als Aufgabe der Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1922–1925 (GA III.19) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich: TVZ, 1990), pp. 144–75 (175).

155

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for you will not be shaken,’ declares the LORD (Isaiah 54:10) – onto this I hold, onto this we can all hold.156

As the Christian Church and her members live in the time between the times, may they indeed hold on to this and invite others to do the same, doing so ‘in anticipation of the eschaton, when God will be all in all.’157

Karl Barth, ‘Der Herr, dein Erbarmer, Jesaja 54,10 (1959),’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp. 153–62 (161). Dogmatics in Outline, p. 146; Dogmatik im Grundriß, p. 182.

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Bibliography Works By Karl Barth English Sources Ad Limina Apostolorum – An Appraisal of Vatican II (trans. Keith R. Crim; Edinburgh: The Saint Andrews Press, 1969). The Christian Life – Church Dogmatics Volume IV, Part 4 – Lecture Fragments (trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1981). Church Dogmatics (ed. and trans. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance; 14 volumes; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1975). Dogmatics in Outline (trans. G. T. Thomson; with a preface by Colin E. Gunton; London: SCM Press, 2001). The Epistle to the Romans (trans. Edwyn C. Hopkins; London: Oxford University Press, 1933). Evangelical Theology – An Introduction (trans. Grover Foley; Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1979). God in Action – Theological Addresses (trans. E. G. Homrighausen and Karl J. Ernst; intro. Josias Friedli; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936). The Göttingen Dogmatics: Instruction in the Christian Religion, Vol. I (ed. Hannelore Reiffen; trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1991). How I Changed My Mind (intro. and epilogue John D. Godsey; Richmond, VA: John Knox Press, 1966). The Humanity of God (trans. T. Wieser and J. N. Thomas; Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1960). ‘No!’ in Natural Theology – Comprising ‘Nature and Grace’ by Professor Dr. Emil Brunner and the Reply “No!” by Dr. Karl Barth (trans. Peter Fraenkel; intro. John Baillie; London: Geoffrey Bles – The Centenary Press, 1946). On Religion – The Revelation of God as the Sublimation of Religion (trans. and intro. Garrett Green; London: T&T Clark, 2006).

246 Bibliography

German Sources Books Die Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf – Erster Band – Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes – Prolegomena zur Christlichen Dogmatik 1927 (GA II.14) (ed. Gerhard Sauer; Zürich: TVZ, 1982). Das Christliche Leben – Die Kirchliche Dogmatik IV/4, Fragmente aus dem Nachlaß – Vorlesungen 1959–1961 (GA II.7) (eds Hans-Anton Drewes and Eberhard Jüngel; Zürich: TVZ, 1976). Dogmatik im Grundriß (epilogue by Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 2006). Erklärung des Johannes-Evangeliums (Kapitel 1–8) – Vorlesung Wintersemester 1925/1926, wiederholt in Bonn, Sommersemester 1933 (GA II.9) (ed. Walther Fürst; Zürich: TVZ, 1976). Erklärungen des Epheser- und des Jakobusbriefes 1919–1929 (GA II.46) (ed. Jörg-Michael Bohner; Zürich: TVZ, 2009). ‘Der Götze wackelt’ – Zeitkritische Aufsätze, Reden und Briefe von 1930 bis 1960 (ed. Karl Kupisch; Berlin: Käthe Vogt Verlag, 1961). Kirchliche Dogmatik (14 volumes; Zürich: EVZ, 1932–1967). Die Menschlichkeit Gottes – Vortrag, gehalten an der Tagung des Schweiz. Ref. Pfarrvereins in Aarau am 25. September (Theologische Studien 48; Zürich: EVZ, 1956). Der Römerbrief – Zweite Fassung (1922) (Zürich: TVZ, 16th edn, 1999). Texte zur Barmer Theologischen Erklärung (intro. Eberhard Jüngel and an editionsummary by Martin Rohkrämer; Zürich: TVZ, 1984). “Unterricht in der christlichen Religion” – Erster Band – Prolegomena (GA II.17) (ed. Hannelotte Reiffen; Zürich: TVZ, 1985). “Unterricht in der christlichen Religion” – Zweiter Band – Die Lehre von Gott/Die Lehre vom Menschen 1924/1925 (GA II.20) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1990). Unveröffentlichte Texte zur Kirchlichen Dogmatik – Supplemente zur Gesamtausgabe. 1 (CD-ROM) (ed. Hans-Anton Drewes; Zürich: TVZ, 2005).

Conversations, Lectures, Sermons ‘Alle! Römer 11,32 (1957)’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp. 81–89. ‘Barths Voten während der “Parrhesia”-Tagung (22./23.10.1967),’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 392–402.

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‘Das Christentum und die Religion,’ Junge Kirche 24 (1963), pp. 436–38. ‘Das erste Gebot als theologisches Axiom,’ in Theologische Fragen und Antworten – Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 127–43. ‘Das Ewige Licht, Jesaja 60, 19–20 – 7 Mai 1922, Reformierte Kirche Göttingen,’ in Predigten 1921–1935 (GA I.31) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich: TVZ, 1998), pp. 8–17. ‘Extra nos – pro nobis – in nobis,’ in Helmut Gollwitzer and Hellmut Traub (eds), Hören und Handeln – Festschrift für Ernst Wolf zum 60. Geburtstag (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1962), pp. 15–27. ‘Fragebeantwortung bei der Konferenz der World Student Christian Federation,’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp. 98–117 (German); pp. 421–36 (English). ‘Fragen an das “Christentum” (1931),’ in Theologische Fragen und Antworten – Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 93–99. ‘Gespräch in Bièvres,’ in Gespräche 1963 (GA IV.41) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), pp. 176–220. ‘Gespräch in der Basler Titusgemeinde,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 295–307. ‘Gespräch in der Kirchlich-Theologischen Schule Basel,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 435–38. ‘Gespräch mit einer “Barth Arbeitsgemeinschaft”,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 264–94. ‘Gespräch mit Göttinger Studenten,’ in Gespräche 1963 (GA IV.41) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), pp. 121–61. ‘Gespräch mit Methodistenpredigern,’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp. 169–205. ‘Gespräch mit polnischen Christen,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 386–91. ‘Gespräch mit Tübinger Stiftlern,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV. 28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 31–129. ‘Gespräch mit Wuppertaler Studenten,’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV.28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 472–521. ‘Der Herr, dein Erbarmer, Jesaja 54,10 (1959),’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp. 153–62. ‘Interview von H.A. Fischer-Barnicol, Südwestfunk (5.5.1964),’ in Gespräche 1964–1968 (GA IV. 28) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1997), pp. 131–66. ‘An japanische Christen,’ in Offene Briefe 1945–1968 (GA V.15) (ed. Diether Koch; Zürich: TVZ, 1984), pp. 370–75.

248 Bibliography ‘Kirche und Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1922–1925 (GA III.19) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich: TVZ, 1990), pp. 644–82. ‘Mitten unter Euch – Euer Gott – Mein Volk! 3. Mose 26,12,’ in Predigten 1954–1967 (GA I.12) (ed. Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1979), pp. 55–63. ‘Offenbarung, Kirche, Theologie,’ in Theologische Fragen und Antworten – Gesammelte Vorträge/3. Band (Zürich: EVZ, 1957), pp. 158–84. ‘Podiumsdiskussion in Chicago,’ in Gespräche 1959–1962 (GA IV.25) (ed. Eberhard Busch; Zürich: TVZ, 1995), pp. 231–79 (German); pp. 452–89 (English). ‘Polemisches Nachwort – Stellungnahme zu der Schrift von Wilhelm Bruhn, Vom Gott im Menschen,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–30, (GA III.24) (ed. Hermann Schmidt; Zürich: TVZ, 1994), pp. 44–56. ‘Psalm 85,10 – 29. Juli 1947, Immanuelskirche Barmen,’ in Predigten 1935–1952 (GA I.26) (ed. Hartmut Spieker and Hinrich Stoevesandt; Zürich: TVZ, 1996), pp. 368–76. ‘Schicksal und Idee in der Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–1930 (GA III.24) (ed. Hermann Schmidt; Zürich: TVZ, 1994), pp. 344–92. ‘Verheißung und Verantwortung der christlichen Gemeinde im heutigen Zeitgeschehen, 1944,’ in Eine Schweizer Stimme: 1938–1945 (Zürich: EVZ, 1945), pp. 307–33. ‘Das Wort Gottes als Aufgabe der Theologie,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1922–1925 (GA III.19) (ed. Holger Finze; Zürich: TVZ, 1990), pp. 144–75. ‘Das Wort in der Theologie von Schleiermacher bis Ritschl,’ in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1925–1930 (GA III.24) (ed. Hermann Schmidt; Zürich: TVZ, 1994), pp. 183–214.

Other Works Balthasar, Hans Urs von, ‘Christlicher Universalismus,’ in Antwort: Karl Barth zum siebzigsten Geburtstag (Zürich: Zollikon Evangelischer Verlag, 1956), pp. 237–48. —Cordula oder der Ernstfall (Einsiedeln: Johannes Verlag, 1966). —The Theology of Karl Barth (trans. Edward T. Oakes, S. J.; San Franciso, CA: Ignatius Press, 1992). —The Moment of Christian Witness (trans. Richard Beckley; San Francisco, CA: lgnatius Press, 1994). Barth, Christoph, Bekenntnis im Werden – Neue Quellen zur Entstehung der Barmer Erklärung (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1979). Bauckham, Richard, ‘Universalism: A Historical Survey,’ Themelios 4 (1978), pp. 48–54.

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260 Bibliography Williams, Rowan D., ‘Barth on the Triune God,’ in S. W. Sykes (ed.), Karl Barth: Studies of his theological Method (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), pp. 147–93. Williams, Stephen, ‘The Trinity and “other religions”,’ in Kevin Vanhoozer (ed.), The Trinity in a Pluralistic Age: Theological Essays on Culture and Religion (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1997), pp. 26–40. Wingren, Gustaf, Theology in Conflict – Ngyren, Barth, Bultmann (trans. Eric H. Walstrom; Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1958).

Index

Assumptio carnis, doctrine of 58–60, 79–81 see also Christian religion, as human face of revelation Aufhebung see Revelation, as Aufhebung of Religion Balthasar, Hans Urs von 14–18, 153–4, 160–7 Barmen Declaration 24–7, 38–9, 77–8, 195 Barth, Karl ‘extra nos, pro nobis, in nobis’ 20–2, 98, 120–2 on human freedom 13–17, 91–3, 108–10, 138–41, 203–5, 228–30, 238 ‘infinite qualitative distinction’ between God and human 85–9, 223–6, 234–6 Lichterlehre 31–40, 74–9 on Schleiermacher 47–55, 125 on secular parables 31–6, 77, 218–22 on sin 17–21, 104–10, 125–9, theology of religions as ‘exclusivism’ 53–5, 215–16 theology of religions as ‘sublime bigotry’ 60–1, 198–200, 214 on universalism 119, 121–5, 130–8, 222–3, 228–36 Benedict XVI, Pope see Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal Berkouwer, Gerrit Cornelis 105, 114, 133, 194 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 55–6 Brunner, Emil 85–92, 154–5 Buddhism Barth’s discussion of 54, 70–3, 80, 221 reception of Barth’s thought 70, 222–3 use in comparative theology 220–1, 240 Christian Church 2, 37–40, 59–60, 93, 142–3, 164–71, 201–2, 236–43

Christian community 26, 30–40, 96–104, 126–28, 168–71, 225–43 Christian individual 13–14, 32–5, 102–4, 138–41, 164–9, 211–21, 235–42 Christian religion, as ‘human face of revelation’ 55–60, 168–9, 234–47 Christianity/Christian religion 41, 49–74, 157–164, 196–200, 216, 223–25 Church proclamation 40–3, 51–2, 89–97, 110, 124, 132, 170–5, 231–5 Clooney, Francis X 218–23 co-humanity see solidarity D’Costa, Gavin on Barth 1, 215 on Hick 198–200 DiNoia, Joseph 31, 55, 63, 216 exclusivism see Barth, theology of religions as ‘exclusivism’ Extra ecclesiam nulla salus 126–7, 187–9 Extra muros ecclesiae 75–6, 217, 242 Grace 48–51, 66–72, 158–64, 232–41 election of g. 120–9, 136–43 rejection of g. principle by Barth see Berkouwer, Gerrit Cornelis in revelation 17–19 in theological anthropology 98–110 Hick, John on ethical criterion 185–7, 198–205, 239–40 on Incarnation as Myth 182–4, 191–6 relationship to Kant 180–2, 189–91 on universalism 206–9 Holy Spirit 14–17, 50, 58, 100, 129–30, 135–6, 235–8 human being

262 Index as creature of God 89–96 as determined for God 96–104, 230–1 as Imago Dei 85–7, 99–101, 230–2 Jesus Christ as brother 138–9, 230 as elected human 125–7 as Light 25–7, 31–40, 69–71, 208–11 as starting point in Christian theology 1–4, 89–96, 153–6, 223–9 Kant, Immanuel 180–209 Kärkkäinnen, Veli-Matti 77–9, 222–3 Kelsey, David H. 3, 18, 113–14 Knitter, Paul F. 55, 60–4, 216 Krötke, Wolf 99–101, 224, 234 Link, Christian 56–60 Mikkelsen, Hans Vium 88–9, 141 mission 55, 63, 154, 161–70 Natural Theology 31–6, 148–50, 218 Rahner, Karl on Anonymous Christianity 151–6, 164–71, 226–9 on Supernatural Existential 149–51 on Universalism 171–4 Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal [Benedict XVI] 2, 224 religion see also Christian religion as ‘absolute truth’ 54–5, 157–8, 181–2, 196–9, 225 as ‘praeparatio evangelica’ 169–70

as ‘unbelief ’ 60–7, 140–1, 197–9, 216–17, 229–36 Religion vs. Religions 53–8, 60–7, 150–64, 184–7, 196–200 Revelation as Aufhebung of Religion 49–55, 64–73, 228–9 media of revelation 27–31, 38–40, 74–8, 209–11, 226–7 religion 55–60, 74–9, 159–62 universality of r. of Jesus Christ see Universality of Revelation Revelation vs. Revelations 24–40, 75–9, 194 Solidarity 63–8, 108–10, 225–38 Theological Anthropology Ch. 3 passim, 164–71 Theological Anthropology, and other forms of anthropology 85–9, 200–5 Theology of religions 1–4, 213–18, 223–7, 240–3 Tillich, Paul 40–3, 66, 227 Universalism see entries under Barth, Hick, Rahner Universality of Revelation 21–4, 223–6 Vatican II 60–1, 159–62 Wingren, Gustaf 17–21, 104–7, 203 ‘Yes’ (Divine Yes) 31, 122–4, 238–42