The God Who Is with Us: Theology of Mission in the Doctrine of Revelation 1978715307, 9781978715301

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The God Who Is With Us

The God Who Is With Us Theology of Mission in the Doctrine of Revelation Benjamin H. Kim

L E X I N G T O N B O O K S / F O RT R E S S A C A D E M I C

Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books/Fortress Academic Lexington Books is an imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www​.rowman​.com 86-90 Paul Street, London EC2A 4NE, United Kingdom Copyright © 2022 by The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. Selections from Church Dogmatics Vol. 1, Part 1: The Word of God as the Criterion of Dogmatics; The Revelation of God © Karl Barth, 2004, used with permission of T&T Clark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. Selections from Church Dogmatics Vol. 1, Part 2: The Revelation of God; Holy Scripture: The Proclamation of the Church © Karl Barth, 2004, used with permission of T&T Clark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. Selections from The Epistle to the Romans by Karl Barth (1968) reproduced with permission of Oxford University Press through PLSclear. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kim, Benjamin H., 1982– author. Title: The God who is with us : theology of mission in the doctrine of revelation / Benjamin H. Kim.  Description: Lanham, Maryland : Lexington Books/Fortress Academic , [2022] | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This book explores the theology of the missio Dei by understanding mission as a revelatory concept of person. Mission as a concept of person recovers the original meaning of mission, which is a description of the trinitarian movement of God”—Provided by publisher.  Identifiers: LCCN 2022035594 (print) | LCCN 2022035595 (ebook) | ISBN 9781978715301 (cloth) | ISBN 9781978715318 (epub) | ISBN 9781978715325 (paper) Subjects: LCSH: Missions—Theory. | Mission of the church. | Revelation. Classification: LCC BV2063 .K558 2022  (print) | LCC BV2063  (ebook) | DDC 266—dc23/eng/20220906 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022035594 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022035595 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

In loving memory of my father

Contents

Abbreviations ix Introduction xi Chapter 1: Re-examining Missio Dei Theology ‌‌ Chapter 2: The Theology of the Missio Dei

1 43



Chapter 3: Karl Barth and the Mission of Revelation



Chapter 4: Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Person of Mission Chapter 5: Reconstructing a Theology of Mission Conclu​​​​​​​sion



Bibliography Index



83

121 155 195

201

215

About the Author



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Abbreviations

CD DBWE IBMR IRM KD

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works (English Edition) International Bulletin of Mission Research (prior to 2016, International Bulletin of Missionary Research) International Review of Mission (prior to 1969, International Review of Missions) Karl Barth, Die kirchliche Dogmatik.

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Mission is a ubiquitous concept that is attached to God’s character, the economy of salvation, and the activities of the church. However, when trying to establish the parameters of its meaning, there is less agreement. Instead, mission has become a term that has been defined and understood in a myriad of ways throughout church history. Specifically, the meaning of mission is amorphous and contextually dependent upon its user. It has become a pervasive shibboleth to justify any and all activities of the church, so much so that Stephen Neill once rebutted, “If everything is mission then nothing is mission.”1 Similarly, Darrell Guder found it necessary to clarify the meaning of the term “missional,” which was proliferated by his book, Missional Church,2 because many have applied the term in overreaching and undiscriminating ways. He argues that mission has “taken on so many meanings that any discussion must always begin with yet another clarification of terms.”3 For missiologists such as Neill and Guder, mission is bound by a specific set of parameters. Even here, however, not all may agree to certain definitions, as some may be narrower in scope than others. Other accounts, however, understand mission as an all-encompassing description of the life and activity of the church. For example, in direct reference to Neill, Christopher J. H. Wright suggests, “It would seem more biblical to say, ‘If everything is mission . . . [then] everything is mission.’” He continues, “Everything a Christian and a Christian church is, says and does should be missional in its conscious participation in the mission of God in God’s world.”4 Such incongruities pose a challenge toward establishing a single cohesive definition of mission. The problem of defining mission is that it is a concept that ultimately defines itself according to its context and application, which have evolved throughout the church’s history. During the age of European expansion, for example, mission took on an additional dimension that resulted in a concept burdened by the baggage of colonialism. Consequently, church historian Dana Robert writes, “The word ‘mission’ is often quickly reduced to western colonialism.”5 For many, especially from majority world contexts, it has become xi

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tainted by the “history of colonialism and cultural imperialism . . . dominated by an unholy alliance of the political drive to dominate, economic striving for profit, and Christian missionary consciousness.”6 Under a supposedly divine (ecclesiastical) authority, Western nations extended their reach and influence over the rest of the world, often with devastating effects. Mission became a facade for colonial activity and Western imperialism. The answer to the problem of colonial mission was what is now considered the foundational core to mission theology; the missio Dei. Forged in the aftermath of two World Wars and with it the disillusion of Christendom’s superiority, the missio Dei attempted to distance mission from the baggage of cultural imperialism by shifting its basis away from being an activity of the church to being an attribute of God. While the notion of mission as being first and foremost a work of God is rather normative today, it was no less than a revolution in thinking at the time of its development. The missio Dei moved the onus of mission from ecclesiological (i.e., the church as the agent of mission) and soteriological (i.e., the salvation of souls as the goal of mission) foundations to one that was firmly grounded in the Trinity. In the following decades, the missio Dei has become a prevalent concept that is virtually synonymous with mission itself. The significance of this development cannot be understated, so much so that the missio Dei is adopted by “virtually all Christian persuasions.”7 It is nearly impossible to discuss the theology of mission in present conversations without reference to the missio Dei. However, some have argued that the missio Dei does little in terms of developing a positive account of the theology of mission apart from shifting the onus of mission from the church to God. In his book, The Witness of God, John Flett describes the contemporary problem of understanding mission as relating to the lack of a developed theology of the Trinity in the missio Dei.8 At its heart, the missio Dei is contingent upon the doctrine of the Trinity. The notion that mission is “derived from the very nature of God”9 relies on the trinitarian order of sending: The Father sends the Son, and the Son with the Father sends the Holy Spirit. Following this is a “second” movement where the Son sends the church into the world in the power of the Holy Spirit. As such, the missio Dei’s purported contributions to the theology of mission are to understand the church’s mission as a part of God’s own mission in the world. On the surface, this trinitarianism appears to establish the legitimacy of the church’s participation in God’s mission. However, upon further reflection, present articulations of the missio Dei fail to deliver any substance beyond declaring that mission belongs to God. As such, the missio Dei raises more questions than it answers. As Peter Bellini describes the situation, “The term’s diverse and even flippant usage has contributed to its multivalence, ambiguity, and even its misuse.”10 Consequently, theologians such as John Gatu of

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Kenya once called for a “moratorium” on missionaries coming from the West as he identified a problem that “can only be resolved if all missionaries can be withdrawn in order to allow a period . . . for each side to rethink and formulate what is going to be their future relationship.”11 In short, missio Dei’s reference to the Trinity does not go beyond the surface, and any attempt to reach an ecumenical consensus on its implications toward mission remains more elusive than ever. Missio Dei’s lack of coherence contributes to the problems in understanding mission. Attempts to establish an understanding that appeals to the pantheon of Christian faith traditions are hindered by the fact that its meaning is largely dependent upon one’s usage according to the multiplicity of ecclesial theologies and practices. According to David Bosch, the missio Dei exacerbates the very problem it intends to overcome, which is the “inadequate foundation and ambiguous motivation of the missionary enterprise.” Consequently, “By means of such circular reasoning, the success of the Christian mission [becomes] the foundation for mission.”12 In other words, one’s understanding of mission serves as the basis for evaluating their successes and legitimizing their practices, which in turn substantiates and perpetuates the existing patterns that inform mission theology. At the heart of the problem of understanding mission, which is exacerbated by a deficient theology of the Trinity in the missio Dei, is the break between God’s act from his being. Mission is typically understood as an act of God that ceases with the eschaton where Christ’s redemptive work in the world is complete. Here, the operative word is “sending” (missio). The triune God sends himself into the world as the ultimate agent of mission. The missio Dei intends to relocate the agency of mission, which has been traditionally located in the church, to God by attributing it as an activity stemming from his core being. From here, the church’s mission is defined in a second movement as it is sent into the world by the Son through the Holy Spirit (e.g., Jn 20:21). However, the ambiguity of the ways in which missiologists have used the term has made the missio Dei lack coherence, thereby reducing it to a trope while leaving many of its colonial baggage intact. Further, the missio Dei fails to locate mission in God’s eternal being, thus raising doubt to the relationship between God’s economy and ontology. In other words, addressing the problem of act and being in the missio Dei addresses the question of the relationship between the economic and immanent Trinity in mission.13 The aim of this book is to reconstruct a theology of mission according to the doctrine of revelation as a concept of person. That is, the mission of God is the revelation of himself as person. Modern understandings of the missio Dei stem from Karl Hartenstein’s formulation, which is based on Karl Barth’s theology of revelation. However, upon further review, Hartenstein misunderstands Barth’s doctrine of the Word of God by taking a more

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anthropocentric orientation over Barth’s christocentricism. As a result, the problems attendant to the missio Dei can be attributed to this divergence of orientation. The solution to the problem of understanding mission may be found in a closer reading of Barth’s works on the doctrine of revelation followed by a reading of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s use of Barth in the development of his person-concept of revelation. I argue that Bonhoeffer’s interpretation of revelation as a concept of person furthers the understanding of mission by standing closer to Barth’s theology and bringing together concepts of act and being in revelation. This book first moves to question the basis of missio Dei theology by asserting that although Hartenstein is initially faithful in describing Barth’s doctrine of revelation, he moves away from the core insights that Barth draws between revelation, eschatology, and the theology of religions, resulting in an understanding of mission that is not justified from reading Barth. Therefore, we must let Barth speak on his own terms if we are to use him to build a theological basis for mission. This is accomplished by understanding revelation in his doctrine of the Word of God and demonstrating that the bases on which the missio Dei stands cannot be attributed to a faithful reading of Barth. Following this critical intervention, this book moves toward a better understanding of mission by investigating Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s supplement to Barth’s theology of revelation through the concept of person. I argue that a more faithful theology of mission must be grounded in the revealed person of the Word of God. In this way, Bonhoeffer’s understanding of person serves as a better way to advance both Barth’s doctrine of revelation and resolve the problem of the place of the Trinity in mission theology in terms of the relationship between act and being. The claim is that Bonhoeffer’s concept of person offers a more faithful reading of Barth’s account of revelation on which the theological presuppositions of the missio Dei presume to rest. Doing so repairs the reasoning in contemporary missiology by grounding mission in a person-oriented account of revelation. What emerges is a theology that is more faithful to the core insights that are intended by the missio Dei. This repair both moves missiology toward a more rigorous theological grounding in the Trinity and serves as a better model for understanding God and the church’s mission. The argument presented here begins by situating the problem of mission in its historical and theological context. Chapter 1 takes a broad approach in confronting the task at hand by examining the development and understanding of mission in the church throughout history leading up to the missio Dei and identifying the problem of the Trinity therein. To this end, this chapter traces the historical concepts of mission and how it has evolved over time through the process of metapraxis. One of the earliest uses of mission in theological language is found in St. Augustine’s treatise on the Trinity, which

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is subsequently carried through to the works of Thomas Aquinas. Their language of mission as a replication of the divine processions is later modified to suit the needs of the Roman Catholic Church in order to justify the expansion of Christendom during the sixteenth century and beyond. It is from here that mission becomes a term that is applied to the church’s operation of colonial expansion. Particular attention is given here to St. Ignatius of Loyola and his contributions during this period. It is not until the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that attempts were made to understand mission as an attribute of God in his activity toward the world. Further developments can be seen with the emergence of missiology as a theological discipline and again with the emergence of the missio Dei paradigm in the decades following the onset of Barth’s theology of crisis. Also, considering the numerous critiques that have surfaced regarding the ramifications of the missio Dei, chapter 1 explores its practicality for understanding mission theology today. Chapter 2 articulates the problem of mission theology under the missio Dei paradigm. The accepted narrative attributes the origins of the missio Dei to Barth’s theology of revelation and Hartenstein’s subsequent appropriation of Barth’s works. However, upon further inspection, Hartenstein’s theology of the missio Dei is a departure from Barth’s theology as a whole. In this movement, the claim is that though Hartenstein accurately conveys the theology of revelation according to Barth, his conclusions for mission theology and practice are not justified. While the theology of his early period (1927–1933) is consistent with that of Barth’s, it ultimately diverges in his later period (1933–1952) as Hartenstein’s understanding of religion and eschatology takes a more anthropocentric orientation against Barth’s christocentrism. Ultimately, this anthropocentrism leads to the problems faced by mission and the missio Dei. Chapters 3 and 4 begin the reconstructive process by developing a foundation to better understand mission through Barth’s theology of revelation and Bonhoeffer’s concept of person. Chapter 3 approaches Barth, first, in understanding what he means by mission and, second, in examining his contributions toward building a theology of mission that stands against Hartenstein’s anthropocentrism. If Barth is to be considered, as some have suggested, the “decisive Protestant missiologist in this generation”14 and the progenitor of the missio Dei, then it is befitting to examine what he says about mission and, more importantly, how his overall theology contributes to the current missiological conversation. Though Barth’s references toward the subject have been largely overlooked or reduced to a few discrete pages in his writings, the theme of mission is evident throughout his works. What is more, the whole oeuvre of his theology, which is centered on the revelation of Christ and grounded in the Trinity, rectifies the basis on which mission is defined. In

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short, Barth’s theology provides a necessary corrective toward understanding the mission of God as the revelation of God. Chapter 4 builds upon Barth’s theology by investigating Bonhoeffer’s understanding of his person-concept of revelation and its relevance toward reconstructing a theology of mission. Here, Bonhoeffer’s theology grounds mission in concrete terms by locating it in the concept of person as the unity of act and being, foremost in the person of Jesus Christ and subsequently in the collective person of the church community. Person describes the interaction between God and humanity as one of socio-relationality and ethical responsibility, which then begins to shape the church’s relationship with God and with others. Such relationships are possible only where humanity bears the image of the triune God who is himself the perfection of divine relationality. This is significant because it informs the nature of God’s mission and the church’s mission in history. In moving to reconstruct a theology of mission, chapter 5 examines the implications of Barth’s doctrine of revelation and Bonhoeffer’s concept of person toward the mission of God. This chapter begins by first reframing the problem of mission in terms of act and being. Act concepts situate mission as a task of God and of the church, which ceases with the eschaton, while being concepts fail to preserve God’s freedom in his movement toward the world. Neither notion of mission sufficiently articulates the unity between the immanence and economy of the triune God. One can only resolve this problem by understanding mission as a concept of person, specifically in the person of Jesus Christ who takes on concrete form in history as the one who exists in the church community for others. Bonhoeffer’s concept of person provides the framework for understanding mission as the Word of God revealed in Jesus Christ in his incarnation, death, and resurrection and in his continued ministry in the church as the community of Christ. This reorientation of thought should inform the church’s understanding of itself as a body that is more than simply a tool of God’s mission but is itself the essence of mission. NOTES 1. Stephen Neill, Creative Tension (London: Edinburgh House, 1959), 81. 2. Darrell L. Guder, ed., Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998). 3. Darrell L. Guder, “The Church as Missional Community,” in The Community of the Word: Toward an Evangelical Ecclesiology, ed. Mark Husbands and Daniel J. Treier (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2005), 114. The purpose of using the term “missional” to understanding the church was to develop a more robust ecclesiology of mission: “To describe the church as ‘missional’ is to make a basic theological

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claim, to articulate a widely held but also widely ignored consensus regarding the fundamental purpose of the Christian church. Rather than seeing mission as, at best, one of the necessary prongs of the church’s calling, and at worst as a misguided adventure, it must be seen as the fundamental, the essential, the centering understanding of the church’s purpose and action” (116). 4. Christopher J. H. Wright, The Mission of God’s People: A Biblical Theology of the Church’s Mission (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 26. 5. Dana L. Robert, Christian Mission: How Christianity Became a World Religion (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 1. 6. Michael Welker, “Missional Existence Today,” in News of Boundless Riches: Interrogating, Comparing, and Reconstructing Mission in a Global Era, ed. Max L. Stackhouse and Lalsangkima Pachuau, vol. 1 (Delhi: ISPCK, 2007), 45. 7. David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), 390 (emphasis added). 8. John G. Flett, The Witness of God: The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of Christian Community (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010). 9. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 390. 10. Peter J. Bellini, “Origins and Early Development of Missio Dei: A Missional Hermeneutic for Today,” in Missio Dei and the United States: Toward a Faithful United Methodist Witness, ed. M. Kathryn Armistead (Nashville: General Board of Higher Education and Ministry, The United Methodist Church, 2018), 1. 11. Quoted in Gerald H. Anderson, “A Moratorium on Missionaries?,” Christian Century 91, no. 2 (January 1974): 43. 12. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 6. 13. Among others, the significance of the correspondence of trinitarian immanence and economy and its relevance to the theology of mission has been developed in Ross Hastings, Missional God, Missional Church: Hope for Re-Evangelizing the West (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2012), and Stephen R. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology: Towards a Theology of God as Missionary,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 8, no. 1 (January 2006): 72–90. 14. Johannes Aagaard, “Some Main Trends in Modern Protestant Missiology,” Studia Theologica 19, no. 1–2 (1965): 238.

Chapter 1

Re-examining Missio Dei Theology‌‌

The missio Dei is a critical concept in mission theology. Since its presentation at the 1952 conference of the International Missionary Council in Willingen, Germany, the term has been virtually synonymous with mission, and this correlation has since been normative for the church. The primary intent of the missio Dei was to understand mission as “an activity of God himself” that is “derived from the very nature of God”1 by returning to its original description of God’s trinitarian sending. This move decisively shifted the understanding of mission from previous concepts associated with colonial expansion. However, with the question of the missio Dei’s legitimacy in recent scholarship, it is necessary to trace its background and the legacy it bestows upon present missiological studies to determine whether the criticisms posed against it are warranted. Given this goal, this chapter first traces the background of the missio Dei by examining various interpretations of mission throughout history. The meaning of mission has gone through several iterations that have contributed to the plurality and relativity of its use in present missiological conversations. Three broad periods are identified in tracing mission as a theological concept. The first period stretches from the post-Nicene era to medieval Christianity, where mission solely describes the Trinity in proximity to the divine processions. The second period begins with the Counter-Reformation, where the Catholic Church first appropriates the language of mission to serve as an ecclesiastical paradigm to justify colonial expansion.2 The third period covers the late modern era, where missionaries and theologians sought to legitimize mission by reorienting it toward its trinitarian foundations under the missio Dei paradigm. The chapter then moves to shed light on the legacy of the missio Dei and the critiques raised against it. By and large, missio Dei’s rhetoric has been accepted by virtually all theological persuasions without forming a theological consensus. Because the term has been synonymous with the notion of mission, a critique of the missio Dei is also a critique of mission theology. This 1

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chapter also investigates some recent receptions of the missio Dei to determine whether its theology is productive toward developing an understanding of mission or if the missio Dei has instead become an obstacle. To this end, the second part of this chapter examines the problems of missio Dei theology: first, as a semantic problem, which has led to the divergence in understanding the relationship between God and the created orders of church and world; second, as an empirical problem, which calls to attention the significance of the role of common humanity in mission; and third, as a theological problem, which exposes the trinitarian shortcomings in missio Dei theology and the lack of proper theological reflection in the relationship between the act and being of God. PRECURSORS TO THE MISSIO DEI Many biblical scholars and missiologists find the concept of mission in Holy Scripture and the early apostolic tradition. They often begin with the Great Commission passage in Matthew 28:16–20, where Jesus commands his disciples to “go and make disciples of all nations.” Others note further commissions in Mark 16:15 (“go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation”), Luke 24:46–47 (“repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed”), and John 20:21 (“as the Father has sent me, so I send you”).3 Still, others trace the concept further back to the Old Testament to demonstrate that mission is at the very heart of God from the beginning of creation. For instance, Walter Kaiser traces the origins of mission to the creation account in Genesis 3:15 and concludes that the goal of the entire Old Testament was to bring a saving knowledge of God to all the peoples of the world.4 Missiologists understand that such evidence represents the larger narrative of Scripture by demonstrating the missional nature of God. However, this understanding of mission is a relatively new development in Christian doctrine. Any theology of mission found in Scripture may be attributed to the recent scholarship developed over the last century. Before this, the Bible was limited to being viewed primarily as a source for establishing the doctrines and confessions of the Christian faith. According to Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, the New Testament texts were considered “documents of an inner-Christian doctrinal struggle . . . between different Christian parties and theologians.”5 Any missionary ramifications were ancillary. The term “mission” is derived from the Latin words mitto (v. to send) and missio (n. sending), neither of which are biblical terms per se. Rather, they are derivations from the Greek words apostello and pempo, which both mean “to send.”6 Some of the earliest uses of the term mission were in texts from

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the first century by Roman historians such as Tacitus, Quintus Curtius, and Livy.7 In each case, mission was understood in its broadest sense and carried no theological inference. In the beginning, the early church did not have a developed theology of mission as it is understood today. Instead, their practices that are interpreted as mission today were merely the natural outflow of their obedience to Christ’s teachings. However, the language of mission was adopted as a theological term to explain the trinitarian sendings. As such, it is nearly impossible to talk about mission without also talking about the Trinity. This notion of mission was applied to the relationship between the Father and the Son in documents predating the Councils of Nicaea (AD 325) and Constantinople (AD 381). One of the earliest instances appears in Irenaeus’s Adversus Haereses (ca. AD 174–189).8 Irenaeus draws a clear relationship between the Father who sends and the Son who is sent. The term is also applied to the sending of the prophets by God. Similar usage can be found in Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem (ca. AD 208), extending the attribute of being sent to include the Apostles.9 Both writings extrapolated the biblical passages where Jesus refers to the Father’s sending and his subsequent sending of the disciples. However, the understanding of mission as a formal attribute of the Trinity was not formalized until after the first two ecumenical councils. Augustine It was Augustine of Hippo who in his De Trinitate (ca. 400–428) developed the concept of mission as an indispensable attribute of the Trinity, which resulted in the concept’s adoption of its “traditional meaning” as “the revelation of a divine person in his procession.”10 Augustine assumed three elements necessary for mission: the sender, the one sent, and the recipients of that sending. This meant that in addition to sending Father and the sent Son, mission “entail[ed] a new divine-human interpersonal presence.”11 Augustine’s understanding of mission was based on this necessary relationship between God and humanity where God’s self-revelation was specifically directed toward humanity. De Trinitate is a crucial text for understanding the theology of mission. According to Mary Clark, the text served three purposes: to defend the consubstantial nature of the Trinity as presented in the Nicene Creed, to argue for the necessity of divine revelation via a mediator for redemption, and to show humanity’s attribute of the imago Dei as a necessary understanding for the plan of salvation.12 The occasion for De Trinitate was set following the controversies of the Nicene doctrine of consubstantiality, which stated that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were of the same “substance” or “essence.” Against his opponents, such as the Homoeans,13 Augustine addressed the

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general axiom, “The one who sends is greater than the one sent.”14 The Homoeans believed that the “very attributes which constitute . . . the Son’s capacity to reveal are judged as decisive indications of the Son’s inferior status to the Father who is revealed by the Son.”15 In other words, the very condition of being sent into the created world rejected the possibility of the Son being co-equal with the Father. According to Jeremy Wilkins, the basis for this thinking by the Homoeans was not grounded on Scripture but culturally assimilated Stoic and Platonic philosophies.16 Augustine’s rebuttal was a return to a scripturally based understanding of trinitarian doctrine. He first addressed the biblical passages concerning the relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit respectively as the one who sends and as the ones who are sent (e.g., Jn 14:26; 16:7). According to Clark, Augustine applied an exegetical rule where the passages describing the Son as subordinate to the Father referred to his humanity while the passages describing him as equal to the Father referred to his divinity.17 Thus, passages concerning Christ’s subordination to the Father in being sent did not pose any problems to his divine nature of being one with the Father. For Augustine, there were two dimensions to the mission of revelation. First, mission revealed the dynamic relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as the one who sends and the ones who are sent. As such, mission was first and foremost an activity within the trinitarian being of God. The second dimension was inextricable from the first in that God sent in order to reveal. As Clark puts it, “A mission includes not only the state of being sent but also the purpose for which one is sent.”18 This purpose was to bring about the knowledge of God to a term that was external to himself. Augustine wrote, There you have what the Son of God has been sent for; indeed there you have what it is for the Son of God to have been sent. Everything that has taken place in time in “originated” matters which have been produced from the eternal and reduced back to the eternal, and has been designed to elicit the faith we must be purified by in order to contemplate the truth, has either been testimony to this mission or has been the actual mission of the Son of God. Some testimonies foretold that he was going to come, some testified that he had come. It was only fitting that when he through whom every creature was made became a creature himself, all creation should bear witness to him.19

The implication was that what was revealed in Christ was consistent with the very being of Christ. Referring to John 7:16, Augustine wrote, “For just as in this form the Son is not one thing and his life another, but the Son simply is his life; so also the Son is not one thing and his teaching another, but the Son simply is his teaching.”20 In other words, Christ is the content of his

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revelation. Not only does Christ deliver the message of revelation, specifically the message of reconciliation between God and humanity, but Christ is the very content of that revelation. In other words, Christ is the very reconciliation of God. God makes himself known in his mission as the love and grace for humanity, which takes place in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. For Augustine, love was an essential character of God that defined the eternal trinitarian relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Love served as the interpretive key to understanding the purpose of mission and revelation. According to Luigi Gioia, the purpose of revelation was, for Augustine, to reveal the knowledge of God as Father. He further stipulates that to know God was to know the love of God. Gioia writes, The Father does not manifest himself without the Son; as he leads to the contemplation of the Father, the Son manifests himself as well; this also includes the Holy Spirit. This does not mean, however, that Father, Son and Holy Spirit are the object of salvific knowledge in an undifferentiated way. Knowledge of the Trinity means that God can only be known in a Trinitarian way. Knowledge of God the Trinity, means knowledge of the Father in the Son through the Holy Spirit. In other words, it means that, united to the Son through love, we are introduced into the love and the knowledge of the Son in relation to the Father.21

One could know God only in his triunity, and subsequently, one could understand the Trinity only by the mutual love therein. Further, it was only through love that faith was realized. For Augustine, faith made the difference between seeing Christ as revealed in his divinity against seeing Christ merely in human form.22 This meant that the wicked could not see the form that was equal to the Father but would be judged by Christ in the “created” form of the Son of Man (1 Cor 15:28).23 It was not enough for Augustine that God made himself known, but that he made himself known in faith through love. The implications of Augustine’s notion of love as the reference for knowing God extend to the church. Based on Augustine’s tradition of love, Patrick Franklin concludes, The mission of God is properly grounded in the ecstatic, loving being and act of the Trinity. . . . God’s mission to the world is rooted in God’s love for the world. . . . Through God’s mission, we are lovingly drawn into union with Christ and another by the Spirit, who is the very Love and Gift of God. . . . By virtue of our union with Christ, we participate in God’s mission.24

The church’s participation in God’s mission is based on the love of God that makes himself known to the community of Christ in faith. Without love, the church cannot be a community of faith. Without faith, the community cannot

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grasp the knowledge of God in his revelation. In other words, God, in his love, reveals himself to the community of Christ through faith. Thomas Aquinas Thomas Aquinas further reinforced the concept of mission as a description of trinitarian sending in his Summa Theologiae (1266–1273). Thomas built much of his work upon Augustine’s earlier trinitarian theology, so much so that Edmund Hill describes Thomas’s discourse on the Trinity in his Summa as a “development and improvement of Saint Augustine’s theology.”25 Likewise, Robert Doran agrees that the connection between Augustine and Thomas is “an ongoing genetic sequence of systematic theologies” in which the latter theologies are built and expanded upon the former.26 Like Augustine, Thomas used the language of mission—or more precisely, the divine missions—as a term to articulate the trinitarian relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in relation and distinction to the eternal processions. According to Thomas, the divine missions were “not essentially different from the eternal procession, but only adds a reference to a temporal effect.”27 The distinction between the two was that the divine missions required a contingent, created, and temporal term of reference. Thomas made further distinctions between the visible and invisible missions. The visible missions referred to the visible manifestations of God, whether through the incarnation of the Son or through the signs of the Holy Spirit, which made known the invisible missions.28 The invisible missions referred to the gift of grace and the possibility of sanctification through the Holy Spirit. Thomas wrote, “By the gift of sanctifying grace the rational creature is perfected so that it can freely use not only the created gift itself, but enjoy also the divine person Himself; and so the invisible mission takes place according to the gift of sanctifying grace; and yet the divine person Himself is given.” He continued, Sanctifying grace disposes the soul to possess the divine person; and this is signified when it is said that the Holy Spirit is given according to the gift of grace. Nevertheless the gift itself of grace is from the Holy Spirit; which is meant by the words, the charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit.29

The missions were invisible because it was an internal working of the Spirit within the human soul. It was mission because the divine person was given and sent in the process. Thomas discerned two purposes for the divine missions: to reveal the reality of God in his triunity and to bring about the possibility of sanctification. Regarding the first, he wrote,

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The nature of man requires that he be led to the invisible by visible things. . . . The invisible things of God must be made manifest to man by the things that are visible. As God, therefore, in a certain way has demonstrated Himself and His eternal processions to men by visible creatures, according to certain signs; so was it fitting that the invisible missions also of the divine persons should be made manifest by some visible creatures.30

The visible missions of God revealed what God was already doing in his invisibility and eternality. These invisible and eternal workings were further explained in the second purpose of the missions. Thomas further maintained, This mode of manifestation applies in different ways to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. For it belongs to the Holy Spirit, Who proceeds as Love, to be the gift of sanctification; to the Son as the principle of the Holy Spirit, it belongs to the author of this sanctification. Thus the Son has been sent visibly as the author of sanctification; the Holy Spirit as the sign of sanctification.31

The missions of the Son, as the author of sanctification, and the Holy Spirit, as the gift of sanctification, were no less than for God’s purpose of salvation. Augustine’s and Thomas’s concepts of mission described God’s nature of sending in relation to the divine processions. On the one hand, the processions described the triune relationship between the Father, Son, and Spirit, who exist in eternal co-unity and self-sufficiency. On the other hand, the divine missions replicated the processions with an added external and temporal term. Furthermore, the missions were enacted within creation toward humanity as God’s revelation—that is, God making himself known via his divine sendings. In this way, the term mission had no reference to describing the activities of the church. Instead, it referred exclusively to God’s operations within the order of creation. However, by the sixteenth century, this understanding would fall to the wayside as the Catholic Church appropriated the term to serve its own purposes of expansion, which has led to how mission has generally been understood. THE METAPRAXIS OF MISSION AND MISSIOLOGY In its original theological sense, mission was understood as an articulation of the trinitarian relationship between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. However, by the mid-sixteenth century, this understanding took a turn toward another meaning that centered around the church’s operations. This created a problem of meaning and a theological hurdle for understanding mission and its subsequent cognates as a description of God’s inner being and external relationship to the world. This turn was further exacerbated in the late

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nineteenth to early twentieth centuries as the field of missiology became established as a formal discipline of theology. The problems of understanding mission and missiology can be traced back to what Paul Kollman refers to as “metapraxis”—that is, “the production of theological discourses that defend Christian practices.”32 Its consequences can be seen in the history and development of mission as a description of the church’s ecclesio-political practices at the expense of its trinitarian description. The normative understanding of mission shifted between the sixteenth and nineteeth centuries by way of metapraxis and became the dominant term used to describe the church’s activities, a ubiquitous concept that endures to this day. The Metapraxis of Mission The use of the word “mission” in its historical sense—in other words, the notion of sending missionary agents into foreign lands—can be attributed to Ignatius of Loyola (ca. 1491–1556). The church’s witness was always a core commitment to the Christian faith throughout its history. Before Ignatius, the expansion of Christianity was portrayed in descriptive language, such as the “‘propagation of the faith,’ ‘preaching of the gospel,’ ‘apostolic proclamation,’ ‘promulgation of the gospel,’ ‘augmenting the faith,’ ‘expanding the church,’ ‘planting the church,’ ‘propagation of the reign of Christ,’ and ‘illuminating the nations.’”33 However, such practices were not referred to as “mission” per se, nor was there a singular theological concept that encompassed the full range of these activities. They were normative practices that were assumed in the life of the church. However, with the realization of new lands in the West and opening trade in the East, the medieval world was hit with the reality of peoples previously unknown within Christendom. As a result, colonial powers were given the political and ecclesiastical authority to “Christianize” these “new worlds” through the papal bull of Alexander VI.34 According to David Bosch, the decisiveness of these colonial sendings shaped the language of their activities, and so they came to be known as mission—or, more accurately, missions—as it is commonly understood today.35 Thus, mission became “historically linked indissolubly with the colonial era and with the idea of a magisterial commissioning.”36 This missionary venture in the Catholic Church was spurred by two concurrent factors: the Protestant Reformation and the discovery of previously unknown lands. Before the Reformation, Christendom was the unifying rationale of Western political and cultural identity. As Philip Jenkins describes the situation, Medieval people spoke readily of “Christendom,” the Res Publica Christiana, as a true overarching unity and a focus of loyalty transcending mere kingdoms

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or empires. Kingdoms such as Burgundy, Wessex, or Saxony might last for only a century or two before they were replaced by new states and dynasties, but any rational person knew that Christendom simply endured. This perception had political consequences. While the laws of individual nations lasted only as long as the nations themselves, Christendom offered a higher set of standards and mores, which alone could claim to be universal. Though it rarely possessed any potential for common political action, Christendom was a primary form of cultural reference.37

Since the time of Constantine, Christendom stood as a universally constant principle that was immovable by the passage of time and changing political landscapes. However, one must understand this Christianity according to its context and form as an empire. Even after the Great Schism of 1054—which was perhaps motivated in greater degrees by political rather than theological differences—the papacy maintained the existing structures that held together the power and influence of Christendom. It was not until the Protestant Reformation that the religious establishment assumed in the West was faced with the realization that allegiance to the pope and the Catholic Church was no longer a foregone conclusion. The result was the reawakening of Catholic missions.38 Martin Luther’s challenge against the Catholic Church brought with it a new consciousness of faith. Salvation was no longer located in one’s allegiance to the pope but was found in grace alone (sola gratia) and by faith alone (sola fide). In the wake of this movement, the Catholic Church responded with its own Counter-Reformation.39 In this context, the concept of mission began to evolve, which is most poignantly attributed to Ignatius and his Society of Jesus, who were also referred to as Jesuits. Mark Noll clarifies the significance of the role that the Jesuits played in the history of Catholic missions. He writes, It is indeed difficult to exaggerate the practical and symbolic significance of the founding of the Jesuits. This founding represented, first, one of the finest expressions of the Catholic Reformation that, shortly, after Protestant reform began, thoroughly revitalized the Roman Catholic Church. Although there would be many sources and influences contributing to the Catholic Counter-Reformation, the Jesuits would be the most remarkable in winning Protestant regions back to Rome and, even more, for solidifying the faith of those in Europe who wavered in their loyalty to the Catholic Church.40

While their focus was aimed toward Europe as an internal renewal movement, one cannot help but note their contributions to shaping Catholic missions in general.

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At the same time, the emergence of and access to new worlds brought with it a newfound realization of the need for missionary expansion abroad. Christopher Columbus’s “discovery” of the Americas and Vasco de Gama’s contact with the inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent vastly expanded the worldview of many Europeans who knew only of their limited surroundings. Consequently, many were motivated, according to Stephen Neill, to voyage to distant shores in order to “bring the light of the true Gospel to hitherto unknown nations who has lived in darkness,” and also to “enter into contact with the Christian Churches which were believed to be in existence in those lands, and so to make a great world alliance of the faithful, through which at last the power of the Muslims would be brought to the ground.”41 The ruling establishment supported missionaries with access to ships, funding, and papal authority to colonize and “Christianize” these new territories. This era would see perhaps Christianity’s greatest geographical expansion in history. Ignatius never formally explained the reasoning behind his linguistic innovation. Instead, according to Kollman, he “used missio in a way he thought intelligible.”42 The term itself was neither new at the time nor was it unique to the church’s activity of expansion: Mission simply referred to the general notion of sending and being sent. One possible reason for Ignatius’s use of the term is that he appropriated it from its militaristic usage. Ignatius had served as a soldier before becoming a priest. Even the naming of his order, the Compañia de Jesús, is “a reminiscence of Loyola’s early military life, and meant to him a battalion of light infantry, ever ready for service in any part of the world.”43 In his mind, missio would have been the word that best described the colonial expansions undertaken by the religious orders of the day. The use of missio in official church documents further solidified this meaning, and mission became associated with specific ecclesiastical actions. For example, some scholars consider that part seven of the Jesuit Constitutions established the language of mission in this historical sense, along with the Society of Jesus’s “fourth vow,” where the term was appropriated to serve Ignatius’s view of the Jesuits’ vocation of obedience not only to God but also to the pope.44 Mission became the label that gave the Jesuit practices divine legitimacy. The shift in the understanding of mission from trinitarian to ecclesiastical sending evolved through what Kollman refers to as metapraxis, which is the process that “connects the actions of believers with the nature of God or reality, correlating human activity with God’s own.”45 Rather than theology determining practice, it was the ecclesiastical and, perhaps more dangerous, the cultural and political practices that shaped the theology of mission. The meaning of mission eventually evolved to include or reject ideas according to the selective lens of established ecclesiastical praxis. The scope of the missionary task established by Alexander VI’s papal bull was broadly defined

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according to political and economic influences. Accordingly, such related activities that contributed to those influences evidently came under the auspices of mission and of the larger ecclesiastical system. Mission became a referent to almost any apostolic service outside of Europe that was legitimized by the Vatican.46 In many if not most cases, the original reference to God’s trinitarian sending was lost. The Metapraxis of Missiology The term “missiology” falls under similar trappings of metapraxis along with mission. Missiology as a formal academic discipline was not established until the mid- to late nineteeth century. Its formation as a field of academic study was inescapably determined by the existing ecclesial practices set in motion over the previous three hundred years. By the nineteeth century, such practices included, to name a few, Bible translation, evangelism, agricultural development, and the establishment of churches, schools, and hospitals.47 However, mission as a subject of theology was not as readily recognized. The primary focus of theology was inwardly concerned with “the church or, at most, Christendom” and was “by and large, thoroughly unmissionary.”48 One can attribute the impetus for developing a field of study dedicated to mission to the need to justify the legitimacy and value of its practice in the face of growing doubts.49 Sentiments regarding mission, colonialism, and nationalism shifted so much so that political and administrative officials viewed the church’s missionary activities to be counterproductive toward their grand scheme of colonization.50 The partnership between the colonial and missionary enterprises began to erode. To legitimize mission, theologians such as Gustav Warneck and Joseph Schmidlin set out to incorporate its study along with the “fourfold pattern” of theological education—biblical theology, church history, systematic theology, and practical theology51—which came to be known as missiology. Indeed, other geopolitical factors contributed to establishing this new field of study as a legitimate discipline. However, the parameters for establishing missiology as a discipline were preceded and shaped by the predetermined patterns of missionary practice and did not anticipate any substantive change moving forward. A certain problem arises in this progression. Missiology has been shown to serve missionary practice. However, what is meant by missiology is not entirely conclusive. Rather, its meaning depends significantly upon the existing notions of mission. For pioneers such as Herman Bavnick, Abraham Kuyper, and Johannes Verkuyl, along with Warneck and Schmidlin, “missions meant the expansion of Christianity among non-Christians,” and, “the conscious effort on the part of the church, in its corporate capacity, or through voluntary agencies, to proclaim the gospel (with all this implies)

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among people and in regions where it is still unknown or only inadequately known.”52 As such, early definitions of missiology included “the investigation of the most profitable God-ordained methods leading to the conversion of those outside of Christ”;53 “the scholarly treatment, from the point of view of both history and theory, of the expansion of Christianity among non-Christians”;54 and “the study of the salvation activities of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit throughout the world geared toward bringing the kingdom of God into existence.”55 More recent definitions of missiology do not make any attempts to define missiology any further than to say that it is simply “the study of mission,” which includes all of the theological, sociological, historical, and practical aspects.56 Even still, others make a distinction between mission theology and missiology, wherein the former is concerned with the fourfold theological disciplines in view of mission, while the latter is inclusive of non-theological disciplines such as sociology, anthropology, psychology, linguistics, and religious studies.57 This lack of agreement in what constitutes missiology only highlights the problem of metapraxis. The term’s use depends upon one’s understanding of the scope of the discipline. The terminology is only further made incoherent when defined by the very thing it attempts to describe. That is, missiology is the study of mission. When missiology is defined by mission, and antecedently mission is defined by the various practices of the church community, a consensus can be made only insofar as the church agrees in its praxis. This incoherence leads James Scherer to conclude, “The quest for an agreed definition of missiology remains elusive . . . [because of its] current indecision, or at least divergence of opinion, about what mission fundamentally is.”58 In short, the field of missiology emerged to serve a need to legitimize the existing practice of mission, and the language of mission emerged to legitimize the already existing practices of the church apart from its grounding in the trinitarian missions. This problem of metapraxis only leads to further complications regarding the conception, interpretation, and application of the missio Dei. THE BACKGROUND AND NARRATIVE OF THE MISSIO DEI In 1918, another theological shift came to pass that had a significant impact on the trajectory of mission theology. Karl Barth shook the theological landscape when he published his first edition of The Epistle to the Romans. However, it is arguably his second edition that significantly changed modern theology and shaped the course of thinking in mission.59 His revolutionary turn away from liberal theology marks a critical moment in time from which the missio

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Dei paradigm finds its theological origins, so much so that Johannes Aagaard goes as far as to describe Barth as the “decisive Protestant missiologist in this generation.”60 One of the proponents for applying Barth’s theology to inform mission was Karl Hartenstein, and it was he who found in Barth the seeds for this new missional paradigm that culminated in the theology of the missio Dei. Hartenstein encountered Barth’s theology early in his career and gave shape to the emerging notion of mission as being first and foremost an activity of God. While Barth’s break with liberalism proved to be the seed in which a theology of the missio Dei was derived, it was Hartenstein who carried it through to give it the framework that exists to this day. Thus, the origins of the missio Dei are commonly attributed to both Karl Barth and Karl Hartenstein.61 Karl Barth The origins of the modern understanding of mission are directly tied to Barth’s theology and the doctrine of revelation, which can be described as missional. David Congdon suggests that the impetus for Barth’s move away from German liberal theology stemmed from his “missionary consciousness” (Missionsbewußtsein). Understanding Barth’s theological turn with his publication of The Epistle to the Romans is crucial to the current conversation because the text serves as the point of departure for the missio Dei. Hartenstein relied heavily on Barth’s second edition at the beginning of the development of his mission theology. So, it is necessary to begin where he began, which is with Barth. Barth was no stranger to mission, as it was a prevalent topic of conversation in his time.62 Up until 1914, his understanding of mission generally conformed to the prevailing notions. When Barth held a catechesis class in 1910, he presented mission as the diffusion of “European culture to the heathens.”63 According to Congdon, “Barth’s understanding of mission at this stage in his theological development was consistent with the wider liberal (i.e., Christendom) position espoused by the magisterial Protestant churches . . . defining mission as the ‘spread’ or ‘diffusion’ (Ausbreitung) of Christianity.”64 However, Barth was also concerned with its social implications and the people’s welfare in his immediate context. Already, his inclination to think independently apart from commonly held assumptions was at work. Barth’s decisive shift began in 1914, which also marks the beginning of the first World War. On the fourth of September of that year, twenty-nine German church leaders, theologians, and missionaries—including some of Barth’s teachers, such as Adolf von Harnack and Wilhelm Herrmann—signed

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an ecclesiastical manifesto, the “Aufruf deutscher Kirchenmänner und Professoren: An die evangelischen Christen im Ausland” (Appeal of German Churchmen and Professors to Protestant Christians in Foreign Lands),65 in which the document “justifies German military aggression on specifically missionary . . . grounds.”66 Referred to as the “Manifesto of the TwentyNine,” the document intended to absolve Germany of any responsibility in its part of the war, stating that their efforts were in defense of their Christian missionary witness. One month later, a similar document, the “Aufruf der 93 an die Kulturwelt” (Appeal of the 93 to the Cultural World), was released in attempts to dispel the supposed lies raised against Germany’s actions in the war. This document was also signed by Harnack and Herrmann, along with several other Protestant and Catholic theologians and professors from various academic fields. The latter manifesto appealed to a larger audience with less reference to the German Christian missionary consciousness. Even so, it was this document that broke the proverbial back of Barth’s allegiance to German theological liberalism. In a 1957 address, Barth reflected on the day that changed the entire course of his thinking, saying, The actual end of the 19th century as the “good old days” came for theology as for everything else with the fateful year of 1914. . . . Ninety-three German intellectuals impressed public opinion by their proclamation in support of the war policy of Wilhelm II and his counselors. Among these intellectuals I discovered to my horror also all of my theological teachers whom I had greatly venerated. In despair over what this indicated about the signs of the time I suddenly realized that I could not any longer follow either their ethics and dogmatics or their understanding of the Bible and of history. For me at least, 19th-century theology no longer held any future.67

Barth was quick to denounce the German Church’s justification of its support for the war. He also began to question his theological foundations, and this led to his revolutionary theology of crisis. As such, the development of Barth’s theology may be attributed to this missionary consciousness, which allowed him to break away from the prevailing theological strongholds. The determination to free mission from its cultural captivity in its understanding as a task of the church owes much to Barth’s preceding work. According to Congdon, “Barth’s career can and should be understood as the consistent attempt (a) to critically oppose the church’s capitulation to a culturally captive Christianity and (b) to construct a positive alternative account of knowing and following God that is not liable to such captivity.”68 This positive account cleared a way to recover the proper place of mission in theology and, more importantly, the life of the church. In fact, some believe that Barth stands apart from other theologians of his day in that his treatment of theology

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is rooted in the very notion of mission. For example, Hendrikus Berkhof suggests that “Barth treats the whole of theology under the missionary aspect.”69 It is no coincidence that Barth’s initial reaction to the manifestos took shape in a sermon based on a passage in Romans and that his break with liberal theology was marked by his publication of Romans,70 a commentary that was an “attempt to articulate the gospel in a new way in a context of war, growing secularism and modernism.”71 Thus, Romans may be considered a response to the problem of Barth’s perception of the “capitulation of liberal theologians to German war fever, along with the confusion of God’s will with the culture’s will for colonialist power,”72 and is, therefore, a missional theology. Karl Hartenstein Barth paved the way for Hartenstein’s development of the missio Dei. Hartenstein’s conversations in mission took place in the context of Christendom’s waning influence following the first World War. The impulses behind the missio Dei were due to the growing sentiments against the colonialistic inclinations within the missionary enterprise, which occasioned Hartenstein to search for a new paradigm that divested itself from anthropocentric thinking in mission. The church’s expansion outside the West had become a surrogate for national interests abroad, blurring the lines between the kingdom of God and world nations. After two “great” wars—fought primarily between “Christian” nations—it was evident that Christendom had become disillusioned with its own activity around the world.73 The missio Dei came in the wake of the church’s sober introspection of this recent history. The church could no longer see itself as faultless in all its actions in the world. With many of the accepted doctrines of the church being reconsidered, so too was its theology of mission. The concept of the missio Dei was born from this context. Hartenstein is considered a missiological pioneer in many respects, most notably because of his appropriation of Barth’s theology. According to Jacques Rossel, he was the first to “confront the pious and conservative mission supporters with a theology that broke away from so many of their cherished shibboleths” and saw in Barth the necessary foundations for providing the church with a much needed “radical rethinking” in mission.74 Applying Barth’s theology in this way was considered unusual at the time, for “a Barth student who strongly advocated mission appeared to be nothing other than a contradiction.”75 Even Hartenstein recognized this unconventionality, stating that Barth stood at a distance from their contemporary missionary circles.76 However, it was precisely because of this distance that Hartenstein was able to pave a new way of thinking about mission.

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The theology of revelation is a central element to Hartenstein’s understanding of mission. What is more, Hartenstein’s theology is informed by Barth’s early iterations of his theology of crisis.77 Barth’s theology stands at the center of many of the new theological developments in the twentieth century. Among them is Hartenstein’s impetus for the missio Dei. According to Gerold Schwarz, “[Hartenstein] saw Barth’s crisis theology as a purifying fire that would subdue the liberal-humanistic principles”78 in mission theology. When the first edition of Romans was published in 1919, Hartenstein was a student at Tübingen who was still committed to his Swabian (Württemberg) Pietist heritage as he studied the works of Johann Albrecht Bengel and Friedrich Christoph Oetinger.79 By 1922, with the publication of Barth’s wholly revised second edition, Hartenstein had taken up a lectureship in the Tübinger Stift, and it was then and there that he was drawn to Barth’s new and revolutionary theology. Hartenstein’s early theology of mission—represented in his missionary address Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths der Mission zu sagen? (What does Karl Barth’s Theology Say to Mission?) as well as in his subsequent article “The Theology of the Word and Missions”80—demonstrates a clear and direct line of thought from Barth’s Romans to his own mission theology where several points of connection emerge; revelation, eschatology, and religion. However, as early as 1933, Hartenstein’s thinking began to diverge from Barth regarding these connections. According to Jürgen Schuster, Hartenstein’s attraction to Barth’s theology was temporary, for he was not completely satisfied with the implications of dialectical theology.81 Hartenstein’s missionary trips to Africa in the years prior and his experiences with other religions and cultures had raised some doubts that were not satisfactorily addressed by Barth’s “‘unfinished questions’ of dialectical theology,”82 which forced Hartenstein to reevaluate its implications. He looked back to his theological heritage of the Württemberg Pietism. Hartenstein’s dissertation, Die Mission als theologisches Problem (Mission as a Theological Problem),83 attempted to address the relationship between the gospel, Christendom, and foreign religions, which further differentiated his position from Barth’s views.84 By 1935, Hartenstein’s theology could no longer be considered a faithful commitment to Barth’s positions. In a later article, “Mission und die kulturelle Frage,”85 Hartenstein attempted to bridge the seemingly conflicting views between his understanding of religion with Barth’s theology of revelation. Further, Hartenstein’s later eschatology was shaped by the Pietistic influences toward a salvation-historical view of the end times. Nevertheless, Barth’s influence unmistakably persists in the development of Hartenstein’s mission theology even though its application and resulting ramifications strayed away from Barth’s own understandings of mission. As Schwarz argues, “Hartenstein’s turn away from Barth did not mean a fundamental no to Barth’s theological

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approach.”86 As such, vestiges of Barth’s theology of revelation can be traced throughout the theology of the missio Dei. THE EMERGENCE OF THE MISSIO DEI The term missio Dei was first recorded in a 1934 essay by Hartenstein, who described it as “the sending which Christ the Lord commands to the Apostles: ‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you’—and the response to the call passed along by the apostles to the church of all times on the basis of its Word: ‘Go into all the world.’”87 However, it was not until 1952, after the Willingen missionary conference, that the term began to permeate the missiological landscape across most ecumenical traditions. The conference was represented widely by various Christian faith traditions and denominations, including Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Protestant (both mainline and evangelical) churches. Its purpose was to strengthen the church’s commitment to mission given the changing theological landscape. The conference’s theme, “The Missionary Obligation of the Church,” was in response to previous discussions concerning the recent advances in biblical and theological scholarship “that were proving deeply significant for all who sought a fuller apprehension of the Christian faith.”88 However, the insights gathered from these previous studies had only marginal relevance toward mission theology. Willingen was meant to address these shortcomings. At the same time, the conference was also concerned with the practical aspects of mission, such as policy, strategy, and church relations.89 According to Norman Goodall, one of the chief architects of the conference, “Willingen was envisaged, from the outset, not as the end of the process but as . . . a special opportunity for corporate reflection and discussion on this two-fold task of theological enquiry and policy re-formation.”90 Many concluded at the time that further work was needed for mission theology. Goodall observed from the gathering that “in spite of all that had been attempted and accomplished, far more work was necessary before an adequate theology of missions could be re-formulated.”91 According to John Foster, the conversations had “not yet arrived at any agreed theology of missions,” which resulted in “unresolved differences and questions demanding further study.”92 Though the proceedings were unable to develop a theology of mission that could be agreed upon by all those who were involved, the participants of the conference were able to establish within a trinitarian framework “an emerging theological core . . . that would lay the theological groundwork for missions over the next fifty years.”93 Mission was now understood primarily as an act of God where the Father sent the Son and Holy Spirit. The “Statement on the Missionary Calling of the Church,” which was

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adopted by the gathering at large, declared this trinitarian basis for mission, stating, “The missionary movement of which we are a part has its source in the Triune God Himself. Out of the depths of His love for us, the Father has sent forth His own beloved Son to reconcile all things to Himself, that we and all men might, through the Spirit, be made one in Him with the Father in that perfect love which is the very nature of God.”94 According to Bosch, mission was widely accepted by this point as an attribute of God among those in attendance, and the theology of the missio Dei was articulated as putting mission “in the context of the doctrine of the Trinity, not of ecclesiology or soteriology.”95 In the broadest of terms, missio Dei theology began to recapture the normative view to understand mission as a doctrine of the Trinity. This trinitarian grounding had further consequences for understanding mission. It meant that mission was also, by implication, God’s act of sending the church “into all the world.” The statement adopted at the conference affirmed the church’s role in mission, that the people of God, “who have been chosen in Christ, reconciled to God through Him, made members of His body, sharers in His Spirit, and heirs through hope in His Kingdom, are by these very facts committed to full participation in His redeeming mission.”96 The church’s participation in mission was, according to Bosch, an expansion of the “classical doctrine” of missio to “include yet another ‘movement’: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit sending the church into the world.”97 In a related interim report, “The Theological Basis of the Missionary Obligation,” the core existence of the church—its life, purpose, and basic structure—was brought into view of mission, stating, “‘Mission’ is woven into all three and cannot be separated out from any one without destroying it. When God says to the Church: ‘Go forth and be my witnesses,’ He is not giving the Church a commission that is added to its other duties; but a commission that belongs to its royal charter (covenant) to be the Church.”98 This meant that the very essence of the church was now characterized by mission and that the church had a role to play as God’s witnesses and ambassadors in and to the world.99 Existing within the tension between the “already” and the “not yet,” the church was now seen as “agents, signs, and foretastes of [God’s] desired restoration of all creation.”100 Willingen was thus able to reframe the church’s basis for mission within the context of the trinitarian act of sending. Missio Dei’s Trinitarianism: The North American Report, Niebuhr, Vicedom, and Newbigin Willingen’s discussion of the Trinity found its origins in a consultation that resulted in what was known as the “North American Report.”101 Chaired by Paul Lehmann, seventeen committee members were tasked to delve into the first of five studies that sought to inform the Willingen conference. This first

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study attempted to “restate the universal missionary obligation of the Church (i) as grounded in the eternal Gospel, and (ii) in relation to the present historical situation.”102 The resulting document affirmed that the centrality of Christ in mission could not be divorced from his trinitarian correspondence. The report took its cues from a preceding publication by H. Richard Niebuhr, “The Doctrine of the Trinity and the Unity of the Church.” In it, Niebuhr rejected the notion of any “unitarianism” among the triune persons of God. He aimed to properly relate the persons of the Trinity without falling into any form of tri-theism while also avoiding the absorption of any two persons of the Trinity into the third. Of particular relevance to mission was his denunciation of what he called the “Unitarianism of the Son,” where Christ was the “sole object of worship and all the functions of deity are ascribed to him.”103 Under this view, attention was given to the personal saving work of Christ, and the role of the Father and creator was captured in Jesus as the singular source and center of God’s love. The charge against Christendom’s model of mission was its singular focus on Christ’s lordship over the church. Emphasis on Jesus Christ was exacerbated by what Niebuhr observed as Pietism’s individualistic and personal character, the movement that invigorated the missionary zeal of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.104 This individualism resulted in the emphasis on personal salvation in a personal savior. It was this elevated Christ distanced from the triune God that the North American Report rejected. According to Lesslie Newbigin, “The church-centric view of missions has perhaps been too exclusively founded upon the person and work of Christ and has perhaps done less than justice to the whole trinitarian doctrine of God.”105 With the collapse of Christendom, there was a renewed urgency to establish a trinitarian basis for the missionary mandate. Niebuhr’s understanding of mission was trinitarian, for he described it as “neither Christocentric, nor spiritualistic, nor creativistic, but all of these at once.”106 This movement towards triunity was reflected in the North American Report. It began with an affirmation of the centrality of Christ in his revelation as the basis for the mission of the church, stating, The missionary obligation of the Church is the obligation to make God as he is revealed in Jesus Christ so known as to be faithfully served by all men. The missionary obligation of the Church is grounded in the outgoing activity of God, whereby, as Creator, Redeemer, Governor, and Guide, God establishes and includes the world and men within his fulfilling purposes and fellowship. It is Jesus Christ who discloses the personal character of God’s connection with men and of men’s commitment to God. . . . The lordship of the living Christ is thus the point of departure for the missionary activity of the Church whose Head Christ is.107

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The committee immediately responded to this christocentric understanding of mission by situating Christ within a trinitarian framework: “An exclusive concentration upon Jesus Christ is not enough. The Great Commission, which more than any other single formulation has gathered up the core of missionary aim and motivation, links the explicit mandate of Jesus, the Lord, with the triune name of God.”108 According to the report, mission began with Christ but was fully realized only in the Trinity. This did not mean, however, that the centrality of Christ was negated. According to Newbigin, “A Trinitarian perspective can only be an enlargement and development of a Christo-centric one and not an alternative set over against it, for the doctrine of the Trinity is the theological articulation of what it means to say that Jesus is the unique Word of God incarnate in world history.”109 Darrell Guder reiterates this point by stating, “A Christocentric emphasis does not, under any circumstances, imply that missional theology should dilute its Trinitarian integrity. Rather, the Trinitarian basis of Christian theology is focused on the mission of God which is accomplished in Jesus Christ and his sending and empowering of the apostolic community through the Spirit.”110 Only within a trinitarian framework could God’s mission be made comprehensible. While developing a trinitarian framework was a crucial turn for the theology of mission, a vital facet of the North American Report was neglected at Willingen: that mission begins with the revelation of Christ, who makes known the person and character of God. According to the report, the church’s obligation toward mission was based on Christ’s movement. As such, the church is motivated to bear witness to God in “response to the whole revelation of God in Christ.”111 Simply put, revelation gives rise to mission. Strangely, this connection was seen in neither Willingen’s interim report nor the statement adopted at the conference.112 The trinitarian thrust of the North American Report was incorporated apart from its description of the doctrine of revelation. In fairness, the Willingen statements cannot be blamed entirely for this neglect, for even the North American Report did not fully explore the implications of its own findings. The doctrine of revelation was referred to only a handful of times, and even then, the authors did not deeply probe into its relevance toward mission. Flett asserts that the commission may have had certain trinitarian presuppositions, perhaps to the detriment of other theological implications.113 Likewise, the conference itself proceeded with theology in mind running adjacent to but not fully integrated with the missionary programming. Goodall observed that while the theological insights proved to be a significant contribution to the discussions, they were not yet fully realized at the time. He wrote, “It was felt that these studies [biblical and theological] and movements of thought had not become related, with sufficient explicitness, to the missionary calling of the Church.”114 According to Scherer, “There [at Willingen]

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it was recognized that the search for theological clarity must go on, though missionary obedience need not wait on theological understanding.”115 In short, the conclusions made at Willingen and the subsequent theologies derived from it were based upon preliminary examinations of the Trinity and mission as they neglected the revelatory nature of God’s trinitarian being. The further underdevelopment of trinitarianism in missiology was due to its lack of reference in the works following Willingen. Thomas Schirrmacher presents a sharp criticism of this lack in Vicedom’s early works, as well as in Newbigin, that addressed the missio Dei.116 Vicedom may be considered Hartenstein’s direct successor in propagating missio Dei theology in his 1958 publication of Missio Dei: Einführung in eine Theologie der Mission.117 Based on the conclusions made at Willingen and from Hartenstein’s statements, Vicedom attempted to account for mission as the work of God through the sending of the Son, which became the critical foundation for the church’s participation in God’s work. He rejected any notion of the church as the starting point of mission. Instead, the church was, like mission, the work of God. Both the church and mission were “tools of God, instruments through which God carries out His mission.”118 In this way, the church was integrally joined to God’s mission as a necessary dimension of itself. The operative word for Vicedom was “sending.” It was through this trinitarian activity that God related to the world. Sending was “the sum and substance of God’s creativity and activity.”119 In other words, Vicedom viewed God’s movement toward the world through the lens of trinitarian sending, and it was through this lens that he understood the work of salvation and the realization of the kingdom of God. He made it clear that both the salvation of humanity and the coming of the kingdom were the ultimate goals of mission, and God’s mission was to move toward this end. He wrote, “The Bible in its totality ascribes only one intention to God: to save mankind”120; and, “The kingdom of God might be described as the goal of the missio Dei.”121 Therefore, one could only conclude that the purpose of mission was for the propagation of the message of God’s salvation. Again, to quote Vicedom, God makes statements in Scripture concerning Himself only as they are necessary for the salvation of mankind. Therefore all revelation of God in His missio takes place always for the sake of the salvation of mankind. But while He reveals Himself through His activity, He at the same times makes statements concerning man, places him under His judgment, and thereby enables His messengers to bring to mankind both the content of the sending and, thereby, the salvation of mankind. The mission can be nothing else than the continuation of the saving activity of God through the publication of the deeds of salvation.122

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Although Vicedom established the trinitarian sendings as the ground for the missio Dei, he also presupposed an understanding of mission that interpreted the Trinity according to past notions of mission. In other words, the trinitarian economy was predicated on the notion of salvation rather than the other way around. While the trinitarian sendings may have been the premise of Vicedom’s argument, it did not extend further than that. Schirrmacher only accredits at most 5 percent of his text to reference the Trinity, stating, “There are missing exegetical and systematic statements about the Trinity, about the inner-Trinitarian relationship as it relates to sending, about the link between God as the sent one to people as messengers, and about the relationship of the Spirit of God, who has been conducting missions since Pentecost, to the missionary activity of the church and its members.”123 Vicedom’s main thrust was instead focused on the motifs of sending, salvation, and the kingdom of God. Similarly, Schirrmacher is critical of the lack of trinitarian reference in Newbigin’s The Relevance of Trinitarian Doctrine for Today’s Mission, which followed shortly after Willingen. Newbigin was also intricately connected to the developments of the missio Dei. Not only was he in attendance at the conference, but he was also one of its speakers. His message, “The Christian Hope,”124 centered on the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ in his death on the cross and its implications for the church, which was committed to obedience to Christ. Newbigin rejected the notion of individualized salvation that would lead to a disinterest in worldly affairs. Instead, he believed that the Christian hope was bound to Christ and, by implication, to other fellow beings. At this point, trinitarian doctrine was not on Newbigin’s mind; there was no mention of the Trinity in his address. Newbigin’s trinitarian emphasis did not surface until his 1963 publication regarding the importance of trinitarian doctrine toward mission theology. However, though he attempted to reference the Trinity throughout, the essay arguably remained christocentric while other trinitarian aspects were underdeveloped. This trinitarian theme was taken up again in The Open Secret, but here it also falls short. According to Timothy Tennent, “Newbigin’s project was never fully worked out. The Open Secret . . . never attempted anything more than the broad outlines of a Trinitarian theology of mission. Furthermore, Newbigin never really worked out the particulars of the Father’s role in mission, and there were many current missiological problems that were not related in any way to the Trinity.”125 In his defense, Newbigin was not a theologian; he was first and foremost a missionary and a pastor. Like most others involved in foreign missions, Newbigin’s theology came as a response to his own context and experience. Michael Goheen describes Newbigin’s theology as ad hoc and contextual, stating, “Any examination of Newbigin’s ecclesiology, therefore, must pay attention to the historical context in which his view of the church developed.”126 In some ways, Newbigin was more of

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an apologist explaining and defending God’s trinitarian identity rather than probing into the depths of God’s being. Newbigin’s legacy would then be to call others to further the development of trinitarian missiology.127 THE LEGACY OF THE MISSIO DEI The development of the missio Dei has been described as a “Copernican revolution” and a “watershed” in missiology. Since Willingen, the missio Dei has been at the core of most missiological conversations, so much so that according to John Hoffmeyer, “Missiology increasingly made missio Dei its foundational term.”128 However, the past seven decades since Willingen have provided considerable evidence to suggest that upon reflection, the missio Dei paradigm fails to deliver a functionally theological framework for understanding mission. Fifty years after Willingen, Jacques Matthey reflects on missio Dei’s legacy and concludes, “The reference to missio Dei did not really solve any of the major missiological challenges which shook Protestants from the beginning of the last century.”129 It has made it in some ways even more complicated. Arguably, the paradigm does not entirely break away from the anthropocentrism that it so claims, nor does it effectively correspond to the developments in trinitarian doctrine. Many critics have questioned the missio Dei’s usefulness and have proposed alternatives to better understand mission. Three critiques stand out in demonstrating the scope of the shortcomings of the missio Dei paradigm. First, the ambiguity of its meaning leads to a problem of logical progression leading to two diverging interpretations of revelation according to God-church-world and God-world-church. Second, the experience of mission by communities at the margins leads theologians to reconsider the point of departure for mission as being within humanity. And third, the critical function of the missio Dei against the historical baggage of colonial Christendom fails to address the fundamental basis upon which mission rests and leads to the theological problem of misunderstanding the place of the Trinity in the theology of mission. A Semantic Problem An immediate consequence of Willingen’s inability to develop a consensus for understanding mission meant that theologians were left to formulate their own interpretations. This meant that there was a lack of a proper logical progression to mission. One of the consequences of the Willingen conference was the divergence of understanding the missio Dei into two broad streams of thought. The first stream was represented by Hartenstein, Freytag, and

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Vicedom, who maintained that the church held the unique role of heralding God’s missionary activity in the world. This view was, according to Wilhelm Richebächer, still “fully committed to the theological declaration of Barmen and its reflections that the prophetic role of the church in all its historical and political aspects can only depend on the unique word of God and salvation in Jesus Christ.”130 While the occasion for the Barmen Declaration—in large part developed by Barth—was a reaction to the German Church’s complicity toward Nazi political ideologies, its implications extended far beyond that immediate threat. According to Torrance, the declaration was, in essence, a summary of Barth’s convictions that “the only way to offer effective resistance to the secularising and paganising of the Church was to hold fast to the one ground of Christian security, God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ.”131 In fact, Barth’s theology of revelation was the cornerstone of Hartenstein’s foundation to the missio Dei.132 To those in line with this stream of thought, the opposing view offered a similar threat of secularization that the Barmen Declaration aimed to resist. As a member of the Deutsche Evangelische Missionsbund, Hartenstein also opposed the Nazi’s influence over the German Church by endorsing the declaration.133 This, combined with his affinity toward Barth’s theology of revelation in general, made for his views of God, church, and mission to reflect the core theses of Barmen. As such, the document also proved to be a litmus test for understanding mission. Understanding the church as the agent of God’s mission is significant for this interpretation of the missio Dei. Vicedom understood mission as an activity of obedient witness. According to him, “Mission is not an independent dimension but can always and only be the result of the church’s obedience to the Gospel. . . . Mission is not an entity in a class by itself, but always only an essential trait and expression of the life of the church.”134 This was not to say that the church’s activities necessarily delineated the terms of mission. For Vicedom, the missio Dei meant that mission was first and foremost an activity of God. He upheld the report from Willingen, which stated, “The missionary movement of which we are a part has its source in the Triune God Himself.”135 Vicedom warned against any ecclesiocentric tendencies, stating that the church was neither “the point of departure, the purpose, [nor] the subject of mission.”136 Instead, mission found its center in the sending activity of the triune God. At the same time, mission could not be realized apart from the church. For Vicedom, the apostolic office and function—to testify “what God has done for mankind in His kingdom and what He is about to do”137—was given to the church. As the apostolate, the church had an obligation to bear witness to the eschatological coming of the kingdom of God. However, God must necessarily establish the church as a congregation of Christ’s disciples for this to occur. Vicedom wrote,

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It is a prerequisite to the apostolate and to missionary service, therefore, that the Lord create for Himself a congregation of believers. This congregation always precedes the mission of the church and takes over the apostolic attitude. Thus the mission is not only an event which proceeds from the Spirit. It has a basis on earth in the company of disciples which Jesus still gathers today and which becomes the carrier of the mission.138

The church played the unique role of carrying the Word of God to the world and existed for this mission. As a result, for Vicedom, mission could not exist apart from the church. The second stream that emerged from Willingen was represented by Johannes Christiaan Hoekendijk, who raised a skepticism against the church as the sole expression of God’s mission in the world. Instead, he viewed the church as but one out of the many religious and secular forms by which God revealed himself. Hoekendijk’s experience during World War II as a pastor who was a part of the Dutch resistance movement led him to the critical examination of the “ethnopathos in German missionary thinking,” that is, the emotional appeal toward the reception of the concept of Volk as a “pseudotheological category.”139 This led to his suspicion of “churchism” and the general rejection of the notion that mission took place between the church and world. Instead, for Hoekendijk, mission took place between the world and God’s kingdom.140 Rather than the traditional framework of God-church-world, Hoekendijk developed a framework structured under God-world-church where the church was decentralized from the task of mission and was instead informed by its observations of what God was directly doing in the world. Hoekendijk expressed his aversion to the church and church-ism in his article, “The Church in Missionary Thinking,” wherein he disparaged the existing missionary pattern as a “road from the Church to the Church.”141 By this, he meant that the church’s missionary attempts had lost sight of the world for what it was, thereby completely removing it from the process. The church was essentially inward-focused. He further observed that the trends in ecclesiocentric missionary thinking led to unintended consequences, such as the expulsion of missionaries and the separation of the indigenous church in Communist China, and the justification of apartheid in South Africa.142 Hoekendijk proposed an alternative model that rejected the idea of the apostolate as a function of the church. Instead, the church was a function of the apostolate that was played out in the larger scheme of the world.143 According to Hoekendijk, Christ came to reconcile the whole world, and the world was “the scene for the proclamation of the kingdom.”144 The church was merely a temporary instrument whose purpose was to participate in Christ’s apostolic ministry that was already taking place in the world. The church’s

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existence depended upon its participation in Christ’s preexisting mission to the world. In short, the missio Dei paradigm meant establishing God’s redemptive action of the whole world before establishing the church, which consequently existed in order to support this mission. These two diverging views demonstrate the semantic problem of the missio Dei, from which both sides find their justification. According to Richebächer, “It seems that everyone reads into and out of this ‘container definition’ whatever he or she needs at the time,” and missio Dei’s language “does not help us to establish a clear single interpretation of the central concept” of mission.145 In light of this problem, Richebächer suggests an amended paradigm toward bringing greater clarity to understanding the missio Dei and some implications by balancing both views in tension with each other. His suggestion is to firmly ground mission in trinitarian theology, a missio Dei Triunius. He writes, “When we are dealing with the term missio Dei we must always emphasize that by Deus we mean the triune God.”146 At the same time, Richebächer understands that God is at work in the world and the people outside the church, and that mission encompasses this complete dynamic, stating, When Christians speak of the mission of the triune God, they are talking about something that they themselves cannot bring to people of other faiths, because he, as their creator and sustainer, is already at work in them. . . . Christians must realize that their convincing words and actions in themselves are not the gospel for others; God’s Holy Spirit has to create trust in both the Christian messenger and the person who does not yet believe in Christ, so that the message can occur of itself.147

Mission cannot take place apart from God’s work in the messenger as well as the recipient. Mission involves both church and world. The following implications are the result of Richebächer’s trinitarian premise. Regarding other religions, the missio Dei Triunius rejects the notion of God’s “two missions” of the Son and the Spirit—the Son being at work within the church while the Spirit is at work in the world—and that all paths ultimately lead to salvation. Instead, Richebächer suggests that the way to engage other religions is by invitation to dialogue in which the convictions of faith and belief for those involved are not compromised. What this means for Christians who consent to the missio Dei Triunius is to “trust the call for freedom in all the basic issues of faith and religion more than [their] own judgements.”148 Regarding global Christianity, the missio Dei Triunius acknowledges the diversity of the Spirit’s work expressed in various societies and cultures. For Richebächer, “The fellowship of the church, living by the missio Dei Triunius, is also open, at all times and in all the contexts of

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the different societies and cultures in which it has taken shape, to renewal through the power of the Holy Spirit.”149 Therefore, mission is not interpreted as a process of homogenization or adaption to Western forms of Christianity but as the diffusion of power so that Christians of different backgrounds can learn from one another’s situation in which God is equally at work. While Richebächer’s model of the missio Dei Triunius attempts to resolve the tension between church and world by appealing to the Trinity, it does so on the faulty premise that bifurcates the church from the world and the world from the church. Instead, as Flett points out, “The dueling orders of God-church-world and God-world-church . . . [are] based on an improper breach in the life of God.” Instead, Flett suggests that the better ordering of the relationship between God and humanity is “God-God/human-human.”150 In other words, mission must be interpreted according to the one who is both God and human stands between God and humanity, which is Jesus Christ. In this respect, the argument presented here standing closer to Flett in arguing that a trinitarian formulation of mission must attune to Christ as the center of God’s revelation. An Empirical Problem More recently, the usefulness of the missio Dei paradigm has been called into question by critics who have observed its ramifications in the context of India’s growing secularism. In his book, The Common Task, M. Thomas Thangaraj identifies two realities faced by mission that prompt the need for reconsidering its theological bases.151 He refers to the first as the widening “circle of discussion,” where conversations regarding mission since the 1910 Edinburgh missionary conference have dramatically changed in the composition of the discussion partners that come from various backgrounds and experiences. Not only do these voices involve Christians from majority world countries, but it also extends to include people of other religions as well. The second reality is the “crisis of confidence” against the once held optimism afforded to Christian mission before the dawn of the modern missionary movement. Postcolonialism, religious pluralism, and postmodernism have also brought the missional conversation to a critical point. Given these realities, Thangaraj asks the question, “What does the current situation . . . mean for the construction of a theology of mission today?”152 In response to this question, Thangaraj suggests that the starting point for talking about mission is not with the Bible (missio biblicas), the church (missio ecclesiae), or God (missio Dei), but with common humanity (missio humanitatis).153 According to him, mission cannot begin with the assumption that theology is merely a hermeneutical exercise or that the Bible is the only source for theological reflection. Instead, he underscores the significance of

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history, tradition, experience, and culture along with revelation to inform his theology. Using the church as the starting point for mission is also problematic for Thangaraj because it is practically impossible to speak of one universal church but only of churches.154 To speak of a universal church in mission assumes a common understanding throughout the multitude of faith traditions and denominations. Similarly, starting with God as the point of departure for mission presumes a common understanding of God. This is a problem for Thangaraj if one is to include other religions as dialogue partners. Given this context, one cannot assume that the God of mission is the same God for all: “One cannot possibly enter into serious and constructive dialogue on mission with an a priori definition of mission as missio Dei.”155 If one cannot rely on the Bible, the church, or God as the point of departure for understanding mission, then an alternative starting point is required. The point of departure for Thangaraj is what he refers to as the missio humanitatis, “the mission of humanity.” For him, “An appropriate theology, relevant and meaningful to our context today . . . must emerge out of the conversation itself.”156 This conversation considers the widening circle of discussion, which not only takes place within an expanding ecumenical sphere but also in interreligious dialogue. This much is affirmed in the WCC’s recent gathering in Busan, South Korea.157 Accordingly, interreligious dialogue is possible under the missio humanitatis because neither of its constituent parts, “mission” or “humanity,” hold any inherent presumptions or barriers that prevent a common understanding of the task. What is more, Thangaraj understands the missio humanitatis as a mutual act of responsibility and solidarity.158 It is responsible in the sense that the person in mission is being sent in response to another.159 It is in solidarity because it is not exploitative but instead “stands for relationships between humans and others that respect the distinctiveness of each person, the interweaving of structural relations, and a willingness to work with and alongside the other.”160 And it is mutual because no one person, sect, or faith can claim mission as uniquely their own. As the framework for understanding mission, the missio humanitatis leads to implications that give rise to the necessity of interrogating the established patterns of missio Dei theology. According to Jayakiran Sebastian, A re-examination of the missio Dei paradigm is necessary because what is needed today is a mission paradigm that affirms our mission to God. Having gone through the consequences of theological thinking regarding the mission of God, and having explored human responsibility to God for being part of God’s mission, we have the urgent theological task of taking seriously the human experience of both variety and difference in God/divinity, and considering what it means for the question of whether there can ever be an understanding of a common mission of humankind.161

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The charge is that the traditional framework of the missio Dei ignores the element of human experience that informs the relationship between humans and God and with each other. Sebastian writes, “We need to recognize that our inter-relationship with each other and with God involves our ‘movement’ to God.”162 An understanding of mission as a movement toward God suggests the element of dialogue, which includes dialogue with other humans and with God. According to Paul Knitter, This same dialogical nature of God is carried out in God’s missio ad extra—the divine going forth in self-communication to finite creatures. It is a communication that is never imposed on the recipients. Rather, creatures are affirmed, respected. They, too, must speak. And God’s communication, in a real sense, is dependent on that speaking and response (otherwise free will would not be real). Creatures may not have the power to break off the conversation for good, but they certainly are a part of determining its content, direction, and outcome. Therefore, in the self-communicating mission of God, the Divine not only speaks, but listens, waits, values, challenges and . . . learns from the response of creation. The missio Dei therefore is the dialogus Dei.163

At the very least, this understanding of mission considers the human experience of mission, including the experiences of those on the receiving end. According to this rubric, the re-examination of mission theology and the missio Dei is justified. These experiences suggest a discontinuity between the traditional theological claims and their empirical realities. For Sebastian, “Mission as experienced hardly meets the criterion spelt out in the theological understanding of the missio Dei.”164 As such, questioning once accepted norms, such as missio Dei theology, is an act of listening to and validating the experiences of the marginalized, particularly those who come from non-Western contexts.165 Locating the starting point of mission in the missio humanitatis only provides part of the solution to the problem of the missio Dei. There is something to be said about the significance of the human experience as a lens through which mission is understood. However, even here experience is subjective, leading back to the same problem found in the missio Dei. If mission is to begin with the human, it must begin with the God who became human, that is, Jesus Christ. Thangaraj understands as much the significance of this when he identifies the missio Christi as a second movement in developing a theology of mission.166 Christ fulfills the criteria of responsibility, solidarity, and mutuality within his being as a concrete person.167 In this way, understanding mission through the concrete person of Christ offers a way to bridge the gap to Thangaraj’s problem with the missio Dei.

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A Theological Problem Assertions of the missio Dei are further found wanting fundamentally on a theological level. In his book, The Witness of God, John Flett examines the nature of the missio Dei and observes that its problem, and the subsequent problem of the church’s mission in the world, is consequent of treating “God’s own mission into the world as a second step alongside who he is in himself . . . [in which] God’s movement into his economy [becomes] ancillary to his being.”168 Flett suggests that God’s economy and missionary activity in the world have been categorically subordinated to his ontology. As it stands, present notions of mission and the missio Dei are based on antiquated definitions that lack coherence and serve only as a critical function against the historical baggage of colonialism. According to Flett, “[The missio Dei] satisfies an instinct that missionary witness properly belongs to the life of the church without offering any concrete determination of that act.” He continues, “It provide[s] a necessary critical distance between the missionary act and the colonialist project, but it fail[s] to supply that act any alternative form.”169 The resulting consequence is that little or no actual change takes place in the missionary practices of the church. Bosch concurs with this assessment, stating, “In much of contemporary Catholicism and Protestantism, then, many of the old images live on, almost unchallenged. Traditional sending agencies— whether societies or denominational structures—are being absolutized and seduced into serving as agents or legitimizers of the status quo.”170 As such, the missio Dei has not provided any alternative form to mission against the colonial captivities from which it has tried to distance itself. At the center of the problem is a deficient doctrine of the Trinity. According to Flett, missio Dei’s trinitarianism is a crucial development in the theology of mission, and at the same time, the source of its problems. He writes, Both the decisive force and fatal flaw of missio Dei rests in its relationship to the doctrine of the Trinity. As propounded to date, the concept is deficiently Trinitarian, and the wide range of its contemporary problems is a direct result of this single lack. Reference to the Trinity distanced mission from every particular human act, but, as now a divine attribute, uncertainty arose over the practical transition from divine being to the human missionary act. . . . Missio Dei provides a Trinitarian illusion behind which all manner of non-Trinitarian mediations operate with sanctioned impunity. The Trinitarian formula is pure preamble. This explains how a wide variety of seemingly incongruous positions can all lay claim to the name missio Dei.171

The operative word for mission is “sending.” The church’s commission is described by its condition of being sent by Jesus Christ as an extension of his own sent-ness by the Father. The starting point for mission is thus no longer

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centered around human provenance but finds its origins in a God who can be described as no other than missionary. In a second step, the divine missions of God are extended to include the church as participants in his work. However, this fact still does not address the question of agency, and depending on where one falls, its answer has significant implications for the church’s understanding of and role in mission and raises further questions: To what extent is God active in mission to the world, and what role does the church play? Is God’s mission handed over to the church, or is the church simply a passive observer? For Flett, the answer lies in the reconstruction of trinitarian theology in mission. The breach between God’s being and act stems from the failure to understand the movement between his ontology and economy. Flett characterizes the mission of God as witness within the intra-trinitarian relationship between the Father, Son, and Spirit.172 Sending and witness are firmly linked throughout Scripture. Neither Christ nor the Spirit is sent without purpose. Rather, they are sent to bear witness to God’s reconciliation. This purpose is further extended to the church in its being. For Flett, the church is the form of humanity’s fellowship with God in history. This means that the church’s existence, its very nature, must also be described as missionary. This leads Flett to conclude that “the missio Dei is the missio ecclesiae.”173 God’s continuing mission takes place through the church, in the church, and by the church.174 Without a proper trinitarian grounding, the church is stripped of its understanding of the fundamental place it occupies within the mission of God. Flett’s identification of the problem of the breach between the being and act of God in the theology of the missio Dei serves as the catalyst for this study. However, claims made here also move beyond Flett by understanding mission as a concept of person, which is supplied by the christocentrism that is found in Bonhoeffer’s theology. In doing so, both the mission of the triune God and the church are established in the concreteness of God’s presence for humanity through Jesus Christ, the revealed Word of God. CONCLUSION Much of modern mission theology and practice have been dependent upon the supposed revolutionary paradigm of the missio Dei. Since 1952, the missio Dei has been at the center of nearly every conversation surrounding mission throughout ecumenical Christianity. It is so prevalent that the term is virtually synonymous and interchangeable with the concept of mission itself. However, as demonstrated above, investigations into its significance reveal that missio Dei theology does not adequately address the issues faced by missiologists and theologians today. Furthermore, the missio Dei does not

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address the questions raised by the conversations that are widened by new and marginalized voices in the ever-inclusively expanding Christian community. Instead, the missio Dei perpetuates the practices that were pervasive in traditionally anthropocentric missiologies while providing the facade of trinitarianism to previously established norms. This problem may be traced back to the formulation of the missio Dei’s theology, which will be addressed in the next chapter. The problems faced by mission are not isolated but have a bearing upon each other. For instance, the semantic problem of Richebächer’s church-world split and Thangaraj’s human-centered mission are both the answer to an inadequate theology of the person. Hoekendijk’s elevation of the world’s role in mission can be seen in part as a reaction to this neglect in preceding mission theologies. For him, the overestimation of the church in its role in mission was the cause of the problems while at the same time offering no answers to them. Likewise, Thangaraj’s suggestion that mission begins with the human experience is a response to the church’s neglect of listening to the voices of those outside the church. In all three cases, the solution to the problem of mission, which is anticipated in the following chapters, is a return to its trinitarian foundation. For Flett, trinitarian doctrine serves as the basis for understanding God’s relation to humanity and the church’s being of witness. Barth’s trinitarian theology of revelation offers a path to understanding mission as God’s self-witness to his reconciliation in the incarnate sending of the Son (chapter 3). This is accomplished through the church as the space where God reveals himself. Likewise, for Richebächer, a trinitarian foundation means that it is necessary to understand how God works in the relationship between the church and the world. It considers the diverse communities in which the Spirit gives life, and the responsibility of mission is not subject to any single earthly authority. Likewise, Thangaraj’s emphasis on the relational nature of human beings and the mutual responsibility therein is key to deepening a theology of mission in that human beings are made in the image of God according to this capacity of relationship and response. Here, Bonhoeffer’s concept of person framed within the I-You relational framework provides the necessary structure for understanding how the church and world relate (chapter 4). Mission no longer becomes a transaction of propositions but a dynamic interplay of call and response where church and world, both created in the imago Dei, exist in mutual and reciprocal relations. Human beings can participate in mission because they bear the imago Dei. As God addresses and responds to humanity as a person, so too are human beings able to address and respond to one another in relational terms. It is in this way that God is missional, and so it is crucial that the church as created beings share in God’s mission in this manner.

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NOTES 1. David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), 389–90. 2. This account of mission eventually spread through most ecclesial structures. However, in the early days of Protestantism, mission was not a significant concern. Several interconnecting circumstances were at play. First, Protestants generally did not have the support of seafaring nations that had access to ships and other resources that would allow them to be in contact with nonbelieving peoples. Second, those same nations were generally under the auspices of the Catholic Church (e.g., Spain and Portugal) and were fundamentally at odds with the new Reformation movement. And third, as a renewal movement within Europe, Protestants gave less attention to those outside of Christendom. See Gustav Warneck, Outline of a History of Protestant Missions from the Reformation to the Present Time, ed. George Robson (Edinburgh: Oliphant, Anderson & Ferrier, 1906), 8ff. 3. See, for instance, Timothy C. Tennent, Invitation to World Missions: A Trinitarian Missiology for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Academic, 2010), 130–57. 4. Walter C. Kaiser Jr., Mission in the Old Testament: Israel as a Light to the Nations (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2000), 10. 5. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Miracles, Mission, and Apologetics: An Introduction,” in Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1976), 1. 6. E.g., Jn 20:21: “As the Father has sent (apostello) me, so I send (pempo) you.” 7. Tacitus, Annales 1.19–52; Quintus Curtius Rufus, Historiae Alexandri Magni 7.5, 10.2–5; and Livy, Ab Urbe Condita 43.14. 8. Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses 4.6.3. 9. Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem 4.43. 10. Jeremy D. Wilkins, “Why Two Divine Missions? Development in Augustine, Aquinas, and Lonergan,” Irish Theological Quarterly 77, no. 1 (February 2012): 42. 11. Wilkins, “Why Two Divine Missions?,” 42. 12. Mary T. Clark, “De Trinitate,” in The Cambridge Companion to Augustine, ed. Eleonore Stump and Norman Kretzmann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 91. 13. The Homoeans, a sect of Ulfilan Arianism, were a particular challenge to Augustine later in his life. They embraced the likeness (homoios) of the Son to the Father while rejecting their substantive correspondence (ousia). See William A. Sumruld, Augustine and the Arians: The Bishop of Hippo’s Encounters with Ulfilan Arianism (Selinsgrove, PA: Susquehanna University Press, 1994), 32ff. 14. Augustine, The Trinity, ed. John E. Rotelle, trans. Edmund Hill (Brooklyn, NY: New City, 1991), 101. 15. Michel René Barnes, “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity: Mt. 5:8 in Augustine’s Trinitarian Theology of 400,” Modern Theology 19, no. 3 (July 2003): 330; Sumruld, Augustine and the Arians, 50ff. 16. Wilkins, “Why Two Divine Missions?” 38.

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17. Clark, “De Trinitate,” 93. 18. Clark, “De Trinitate,” 94. 19. Augustine, The Trinity, 171. 20. Augustine, The Trinity, 99–100. 21. Luigi Gioia, The Theological Epistemology of Augustine’s De Trinitate (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 107 (emphasis in the original). 22. Gioia, Theological Epistemology, 107. 23. Augustine, The Trinity, 87. 24. Patrick S. Franklin, “The God Who Sends Is the God Who Loves: Mission as Participating in the Ecstatic Love of the Triune God,” Didaskalia 28 (2017–2018): 94. 25. Edmund Hill, Introduction to The Trinity, by Augustine, ed. John E. Rotelle, trans. Edmund Hill (Brooklyn, NY: New City, 1991), 19. 26. Robert M. Doran, “System and History: The Challenge to Catholic Systematic Theology,” Theological Studies 60, no. 4 (December 1999): 653. 27. Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum Super Libros Sententiarum Magistri Petri Lombardi, ed. R. P. Mandonnet (Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1929), d. 16, q. 1, a. 1 (370–371), quoted in Gilles Emery, “Theologia and Dispensatio: The Centrality of the Divine Missions in St. Thomas’s Trinitarian Theology,” The Thomist 74, no. 4 (October 2010): 527. 28. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, trans. Laurence Shapcote, vol. 13, Latin/ English Edition of the Works of St. Thomas Aquinas (Lander, WY: Aquinas Institute for the Study of Sacred Doctrine, 2012), Ia, q. 43, a. 7. 29. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae Ia, q. 43, a. 3. 30. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae Ia, q. 43, a. 7 (emphases added). Emery, “Theologia and Dispensatio,” 529, understands the use of demonstrare and manifestare to refer to the revelation of God. 31. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Ia, q. 43, a. 7. 32. Paul Kollman, “At the Origins of Mission and Missiology: A Study in the Dynamics of Religious Language,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 79, no. 2 (June 2011): 435; and Thomas P. Kasulis, “Philosophy as Metapraxis,” in Discourse and Practice, ed. Frank Reynolds and David Tracy (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992), 173–175. Kasulis juxtaposes the idea of metapraxis with that of metaphysics, with their relationship being analogous to praxis and theory. Accordingly, “Religious metaphysics grounds orthodoxy whereas religious metapraxis grounds orthopraxis” (174). Both arise from reflections on the religious experiences concerning its theory and practice. 33. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 228. While the language of mission was not associated with these activities, these patterns of missionary activities were, according to Bosch, established well before Ignatius’s use of the word. Referring to it as the medieval Roman Catholic missionary paradigm, Bosch traces this era from AD 600 to 1500. He also attributes the beginnings of this paradigm to Augustine, who, in his development of the just-war ethic, opened a path toward a “Christian” justification for military aggression, which ultimately resulted in the crusades. See Bosch, Transforming Mission, 222–26.

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34. Alexander VI, “The Colonization of the New World (Inter Caetera), 1493,” in Early Modern Catholicism: An Anthology of Primary Sources, ed. Robert S. Miola (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 482–85. The scope of Inter Caetera was not limited to the Christianization of indigenous peoples but encompassed the whole colonial activity. 35. Modern conventions distinguish “mission” (singular) from “missions” (plural), where the former refers broadly to the activity of God and the church in the world and the latter refers to specific cross-cultural activities of churches, missions agencies, and individuals engaged in tasks such as evangelism, church planting, bible translation, education, and community development. Before the 1950s, the terms were used synonymously. A criterion for missions is typically the crossing of sociocultural barriers in order to spread the gospel. 36. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 228. 37. Philip Jenkins, The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 12. 38. Dana L. Robert, Christian Mission: How Christianity Became a World Religion (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 37. 39. While the “Catholic Reformation” and “Counter-Reformation” refer to a coinciding period of history, the usage of these terms is nuanced. The former refers to an internal struggle within the Catholic Church, while the latter refers to the reactionary response to the Protestant Reformation at large. Justo L. González (The Story of Christianity, vol. 2 [New York: HarperOne, 2010], 135ff.) notes that the origins of the Catholic Reformation date back to a time long before Luther’s interjection. 40. Mark Noll, Turning Points: Decisive Moments in the History of Christianity, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2000), 201–02. 41. Stephen Neill, A History of Christian Missions (London: Penguin Books, 1964), 120. 42. Kollman, “Origins of Mission and Missiology,” 430. 43. Thomas J. Campbell, The Jesuits, 1534–1921: A History of the Society of Jesus from Its Foundation to the Present Time (New York: Encyclopedia Press, 1921), 7. 44. See John W. O’Malley, “Mission and the Early Jesuits,” The Way, Supplement 79 (Spring 1994): 3–4; and John W. O’Malley, The First Jesuits (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993), 298–300. 45. Kollman, “Origins of Mission and Missiology,” 431. 46. Kollman, “Origins of Mission and Missiology,” 432. 47. Robert, Christian Mission, 48–51. 48. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 490. 49. Kollman, “Origins of Mission and Missiology,” 433. 50. Kollman, “Origins of Mission and Missiology,” 434. 51. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 490. 52. Justice Anderson, “An Overview of Missiology,” in Missiology: An Introduction to the Foundations, History, and Strategies of World Missions, ed. John Mark Terry, 2nd ed. (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2015), 4.

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53. Abraham Kuyper, Encyclopaedie der Heilige Godgeleerdheid (Kampen: Kok, 1909), 519, quoted in Herman Bavnick, An Introduction to the Science of Missions, trans. David Hugh Freeman (Philadelphia: P&R, 1960), xix. 54. Olav Guttorm Myklebust, The Study of Missions in Theological Education: An Historical Inquiry into the Place of World Evangelisation in Western Protestant Ministerial Training, vol. 1 (Oslo: Egede Instituttet, 1955), 29. 55. Johannes Verkuyl, Contemporary Missiology: An Introduction, ed. and trans. Dale Cooper (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1978), 5. 56. E.g., Christopher J. H. Wright, The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible’s Grand Narrative (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), 25; and Scott A. Moreau, Gary R. Corwin, and Gary B. McGee, Introducing World Missions: A Biblical, Historical, and Practical Survey (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2004), 17. 57. See, for example, Craig Ott, Stephen J. Strauss, and Timothy C. Tennent, Encountering Theology of Mission: Biblical Foundations, Historical Developments, and Contemporary Issues (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2010), xx; Scott W. Sunquist, Understanding Christian Mission: Participation in Suffering and Glory (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013), 8. See, also Charles Van Engen (Mission on the Way: Issues in Mission Theology [Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1996], 17) who describes missiology as a field concerned with the “strategy and practice of mission” (emphases added). He continues, “Missiology concerned itself with a host of activist issues and agendas like the role of the church (its clergy, structures, and members) in the mission enterprise, relevant economic and sociopolitical action, liberation, evangelism, church growth, relief and development, Bible translation, theological education, mission-church partnerships, church-to-church sharing resources, dialogue with people of other faiths, and the relation of faith and culture.” In short, missiology covers a wide range of disciplines beyond the scope but not at the expense of theology. Missiologists may come from various disciplines, including history, public policy, economics, and education, to name a few. In contrast, mission theology encompasses a tighter focus by limiting itself to the theological aspects of mission. 58. James A. Scherer, “Missiology as a Discipline and What It Includes,” Missiology 15, no. 4 (October 1987): 509 (emphasis in the original). 59. See Clifford J. Green, ed., Karl Barth: Theologian of Freedom (London: Collins, 1989), 16. 60. Johannes Aagaard, “Some Main Trends in Modern Protestant Missiology,” Studia Theologica 19, no. 1–2 (1965): 238. 61. Timothy Yates, Christian Mission in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 104–5. 62. David W. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology as Theology of Mission: Investigating the Origins of Karl Barth’s Break with Liberalism,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 16, no. 4 (October 2014): 392–99. 63. Karl Barth, “Evangelische Missionskunde,” in Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten II: 1909–1914, ed. Hans-Anton Drewes and Hinrich Stovestandt, Gesamtausgabe (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 1910), 62, quoted in John G. Flett, The Witness of God: The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of Christian Community (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 105–6.

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64. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology,” 394. 65. “Appeal of German Churchmen and Professors to Protestant Christians in Foreign Lands,” in David W. Congdon, The Mission of Demythologizing: Rudolf Bultmann’s Dialectical Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015), 838–43. 66. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology,” 400 (emphasis in the original). 67. Karl Barth, The Humanity of God (Atlanta: John Knox, 1960), 14. 68. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology,” 407. 69. Hendrikus Berkhof, The Doctrine of the Holy Spirit (Atlanta: John Knox, 1964), 33. He draws particular attention to CD IV/3. 70. David W. Congdon, The Mission of Demythologizing: Rudolf Bultmann’s Dialectical Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015), 254–55. Barth’s sermon on Rom 8:38–39 can be found in Karl Barth, “October 18, 1914: Romans 8:38–39,” in A Unique Time of God: Karl Barth’s WWI Sermons, ed. William Klempa (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 145–54. 71. Wim A. Dreyer, “Karl Barth’s Römerbrief: A Turning Point in Protestant Theology,” Studia Historiae Ecclesiasticae 43, no. 3 (2017): 4. 72. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology,” 407. 73. Kenneth Scott Latourette, A History of Christianity, vol. 2 (Peabody, MA: Prince, 2007), 1349ff. 74. Jacques Rossel, “From a Theology of Crisis to a Theology of Revolution?: Karl Barth, Mission and Missions,” Ecumenical Review 21, no. 3 (July 1969): 204. 75. Walter Freytag, “Mitglied im Deutschen Evangelischen Missionsrat and Missionstag and bei den Tagungen der Okumene,” in Karl Hartenstein: ein Leben für Kirche und Mission, ed. Wolfgang Metzger (Stuttgart: Evangelischer Missionsverlag, 1953), 296, quoted in Flett, Witness of God, 125. 76. Karl Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths der Mission zu sagen? (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1928), 3. 77. Bruce McCormack (Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology: Its Genesis and Development, 1909–1936 [New York: Oxford University Press, 1995], 209ff.), is tentative to label Barth’s second edition of Romans as a “theology of crisis,” saying, “The depiction of the theology of the second edition of Romans as a ‘theology of crisis’ was arrived at much too quickly; it rests upon a superficial reading of the book” (209–10). Instead, he views it as “a theology which sought to redirect the attention of his readers from the crises of the present to the crisis in whose light alone one might try to make sense of contemporary events” (215–16). 78. Gerold Schwarz, “The Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” IBMR 8, no. 3 (July 1984): 126. 79. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 126. 80. Karl Hartenstein, “The Theology of The Word and Missions,” IRM 20, no. 2 (April 1931): 210–27. 81. Jürgen Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein: Mission with a Focus on the End,” Mission Studies 19, no. 1 (2002): 55. 82. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 126. 83. Karl Hartenstein, Die Mission als theologisches Problem: Beiträge zum grundsäßlichen Verständnis der Mission (Berlin: Furche Verlag, 1933).

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84. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein,” 62. 85. Karl Hartenstein, “Mission und die Kulturelle Frage: Anpassung Oder Umbruch,” Evangelisches Missions-Magazin 79 (1935): 350–67, published in English as Karl Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” Student World 28, no. 4 (1935): 308–27. References to this essay will be to the English translation. 86. Gerold Schwarz, Mission, Gemeinde und Ökumene in der Theologie Karl Hartensteins (Stuttgart: Calwer-Verlag, 1980), 63. 87. Karl Hartenstein, “Wozu Nötigt die Finanzlage der Mission,” Evangelisches Missions-Magazin 79 (1934): 217, quoted in Flett, Witness of God, 131. Cf. Jn 20:21 and Mk 16:15. 88. Norman Goodall, “Willingen—Milestone, Not Terminus,” in Missions under the Cross, ed. Norman Goodall (London: Edinburgh House, 1953), 11. 89. Cf. John Beattie (“Willingen 1952,” IRM 41, no. 164 [October 1952]: 437–38) who reports that one of the conference’s main concerns was to address the issues of “how to keep the missionary movement moving; how to ensure mobility for further advance; [and] how to come to grips with new opportunities and to adapt the work to changing needs.” 90. Goodall, “Willingen—Milestone, Not Terminus,” 13. 91. Goodall, “Willingen—Milestone, Not Terminus,” 20. 92. John Foster, “Willingen, 1952,” Expository Times 64, no. 1 (October 1952): 27. 93. Peter J. Bellini, “Origins and Early Development of Missio Dei: A Missional Hermeneutic for Today,” in Missio Dei and the United States: Toward a Faithful United Methodist Witness, ed. M. Kathryn Armistead (Nashville: General Board of Higher Education and Ministry, The United Methodist Church, 2018), 7. 94. Norman Goodall, ed., “A Statement on the Missionary Calling of the Church,” in Missions under the Cross (London: Edinburgh House, 1953), 189. 95. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 390. 96. Goodall, “Statement on the Missionary Calling,” 190. 97. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 390. 98. Norman Goodall, ed., “The Theological Basis of the Missionary Obligation,” in Missions Under the Cross (London: Edinburgh House, 1953), 241. 99. Goodall, “Statement on the Missionary Calling,” 189. 100. Darrell L. Guder, “The Missio Dei: A Mission Theology after Christendom,” in News of Boundless Riches: Interrogating, Comparing, and Reconstructing Mission in a Global Era, ed. Max L. Stackhouse and Lalsangkima Pachuau (Delhi: ISPCK, 2007), 1: 4–5. 101. Originally titled “Why Missions? Report of Commission I on the Biblical and Theological Basis of Missions,” an abridged report is published under Paul L. Lehmann, ed., “The Missionary Obligation of the Church,” Theology Today 9, no. 1 (1952): 20–38. 102. Norman Goodall, “First Principles,” IRM 39, no. 155 (July 1950): 257. 103. H. Richard Niebuhr, “The Doctrine of the Trinity and the Unity of the Church,” Theology Today 3, no. 3 (1946): 374. 104. According to James Scherer, “Protestant missions have largely sprung up in Pietistic circles, and retained a strongly individualistic flavor” (“The Missionary

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Calling of the Church,” in Early Proceedings of The Association of Professors of Mission, vol. 1, Biennial Meetings from 1956 to 1958, ed. Robert A. Danielson and David E. Fenrick [Wilmore, KY: First Fruits, 2018], 166–67). 105. Lesslie Newbigin, The Relevance of Trinitarian Doctrine for Today’s Mission (London: Edinburgh House, 1963), 31. Cf. Tennent, Invitation to World Missions, 67. 106. H. Richard Niebuhr, “An Attempt at a Theological Analysis of Missionary Motivation,” Occasional Bulletin 14, no. 1 (January 1963): 1. 107. Lehmann, ed., “Missionary Obligation of the Church,” 20–21. 108. Lehmann, ed., “Missionary Obligation of the Church,” 21. 109. Lesslie Newbigin, “Ecumenical Amnesia,” IBMR 18, no. 1 (April 1994): 2. 110. Darrell L. Guder, The Continuing Conversion of the Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 48n42. 111. Lehmann, ed., “Missionary Obligation of the Church,” 36, 38. 112. Cf. Goodall, “Theological Basis”; and “Statement on the Missionary Calling.” 113. Flett, Witness of God, 139. 114. Goodall, “Willingen—Milestone, Not Terminus,” 11. 115. Scherer, “Missionary Calling,” 166. 116. Thomas Schirrmacher, Missio Dei: God’s Missional Nature (Bonn: Verlag für Kultur und Wissenschaft, 2017), 12ff. 117. Published in English as Georg Vicedom, The Mission of God: An Introduction to a Theology of Mission, trans. Gilbert A. Thiele and Dennis Hilgendorf (St. Louis: Concordia, 1965). 118. Vicedom, Mission of God, 6. 119. Vicedom, Mission of God, 9. 120. Vicedom, Mission of God, 4. 121. Vicedom, Mission of God, 14. 122. Vicedom, Mission of God, 8–9. 123. Schirrmacher, Missio Dei, 12–13. 124. J. E. L. Newbigin, “The Christian Hope,” in Missions under the Cross, ed. Norman Goodall (London: Edinburgh House, 1953), 107–16. 125. Tennent, Invitation to World Missions, 68. 126. Michael W. Goheen, “‘As the Father Has Sent Me, I Am Sending You’: J. E. Lesslie Newbigin’s Missionary Ecclesiology” (PhD Diss., Utrecht, Utrecht University, 2000), 6. 127. E.g., Adam Dodds, The Mission of the Triune God: Trinitarian Missiology in the Tradition of Lesslie Newbigin (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2017). 128. John F. Hoffmeyer, “The Missional Trinity,” Dialog 40, no. 2 (Summer 2001): 108. 129. Jacques Matthey, “God’s Mission Today: Summary and Conclusions,” IRM 92, no. 367 (October 2003): 591. 130. Wilhelm Richebächer, “Missio Dei: The Basis of Mission Theology or Wrong Path?” IRM 92, no. 367 (October 2003): 592. 131. Thomas F. Torrance, Karl Barth, Biblical and Evangelical Theologian (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1990), 9.

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132. Cf. Eberhard Busch, The Barmen Theses Then and Now, trans. Darrell Guder and Judith Guder (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010). Of the six convictions expressed in the Barmen Declaration, four are particularly relevant to this first stream of thought as they emphasize Christ as the Word of God and the church as an extension of his mission. The first two speak directly of the person and function of Christ as the Word of God who is the “assurance of the forgiveness of all our sins . . . [and] God’s mighty claim upon our whole life” (35). They reject the notion that revelation can come from any other source or that any aspects of life are not under his lordship. Barmen’s third and sixth theses also make statements regarding the church’s identity and its mission in the world. Here, the church belongs to Christ alone and is tasked to deliver the message of the grace of God (49ff.). The church cannot hand over its identity or mission to other worldly powers, thereby standing in opposition to God’s revelation (87ff.). 133. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein,” 56–57. For an in-depth treatment of mission and the Third Reich, see Werner Ustorf, Sailing on the Next Tide: Missions, Missiology, and the Third Reich (Frankfurt: Lang, 2000); and Werner Ustorf, “‘Survival of the Fittest’: German Protestant Missions, Nazism and Neocolonialism, 1933–1945,” Journal of Religion in Africa 28, no. 1 (February 1998): 93–114. 134. Vicedom, Mission of God, 1–2. 135. Goodall, “Statement on the Missionary Calling,” 189. 136. Vicedom, Mission of God, 4. 137. Vicedom, Mission of God, 66. 138. Vicedom, Mission of God, 73. 139. Bert Hoedemaker, “The Legacy of J. C. Hoekendijk,” IBMR 19, no. 4 (October 1995): 166. 140. Hoedemaker, “Legacy of J. C. Hoekendijk,” 167. 141. Johannes Christiaan Hoekendijk, “The Church in Missionary Thinking,” IRM 41, no. 3 (July 1952): 324. 142. Hoekendijk, “The Church in Missionary Thinking,” 332. Cf. “First Thoughts on the Débâcle of Christian Missions in China,” IRM 40, no. 160 (October 1951): 411–20. 143. Hoedemaker, “Legacy of J. C. Hoekendijk,” 167. 144. Hoekendijk, “The Church in Missionary Thinking,” 333. 145. Richebächer, “Missio Dei,” 589. 146. Richebächer, “Missio Dei,” 596. 147. Richebächer, “Missio Dei,” 596. 148. Richebächer, “Missio Dei,” 597. 149. Richebächer, “Missio Dei,” 598. 150. Flett, Witness of God, 213. 151. M. Thomas Thangaraj, The Common Task: A Theology of Christian Mission (Nashville: Abingdon, 1999), 11ff. 152. Thangaraj, Common Task, 27. 153. Thangaraj, Common Task, 31–45. 154. Thangaraj, Common Task, 36–37.

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155. Thangaraj, Common Task, 39. He attributes Barth and his methodology as the defining factor for this a priori definition of God as distinctly trinitarian. Therefore, the theology of missio Dei would be placed “squarely in the context of the doctrine of the Trinity” (38). 156. Thangaraj, Common Task, 39. 157. See Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, “Together towards Life: Mission and Evangelism in Changing Landscapes,” in Ecumenical Visions for the 21st Century: A Reader for Theological Education, ed. Mélisande Lorke and Dietrich Werner (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2013), 191–206. This paper leading up to the 10th assembly of the World Council of Churches affirms the necessity of interreligious dialogue as a component of the broader task of mission and evangelism. 158. Thangaraj, Common Task, 49ff. 159. Thangaraj uses the term “responsibility” in connection with H. Richard Niebuhr in The Responsible Self: An Essay in Christian Moral Philosophy (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1963). 160. Thangaraj, Common Task, 55. 161. J. Jayakiran Sebastian, “Believing and Belonging: Secularism and Religion in India,” IRM 92, no. 365 (April 2003): 209. 162. J. Jayakiran Sebastian, “Interrogating Missio Dei: From the Mission of God towards Appreciating Our Mission to God in India Today,” in News of Boundless Riches: Interrogating, Comparing, and Reconstructing Mission in a Global Era, vol. 1, ed. Max L. Stackhouse and Lalsangkima Pachuau (Delhi: ISPCK, 2007), 35. 163. Paul F. Knitter, Jesus and the Other Names: Christian Mission and Global Responsibility (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996), 145. 164. Sebastian, “Interrogating Missio Dei,” 39 (emphasis in the original). 165. Again, the WCC document “Together towards Life” emphasizes the importance of the experience of mission as understood from the perspectives of the marginalized by advocating for a paradigmatic reorientation of a “mission from the margins.” Mission from the margins means that power, authority, and influence are no longer exclusive to the cultures and societies in the center, mainly consisting of Western hegemonic nations, but that those marginalized have an indispensable voice toward determining the understanding of mission. See “Together towards Life,” 196–98. 166. Thangaraj, Common Task, 62. 167. Cf. Niebuhr, Responsible Self, 162–73. 168. Flett, Witness of God, 3. 169. Flett, Witness of God, 8. 170. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 381. 171. Flett, Witness of God, 9–10. 172. Flett, Witness of God, 224–25. Cf. Jn 5:30–37; 15:26–27; Acts 1:8; 26:16–18. 173. Flett, Witness of God, 291. 174. Cf. Guder, Continuing Conversion, 53. The principle of witness (martyria) encapsulates the concepts of proclamation (kerygma), community (koinonia), and service (diakonia).

Chapter 2

The Theology of the Missio Dei

The problems attendant to the missio Dei are due to a deficient trinitarian theology. Willingen attempted to reorient a theology of mission according to trinitarian doctrine as a reaction against the failures of Christendom and its colonial enterprise. While it adequately determined that mission was of God, the missio Dei failed to supply any determinate actions, which allowed the church’s missionary activities to continue with little or no change. Therefore, to address the problem of act and being in the theology of mission, one must first address the bases upon which the missio Dei rests. This chapter traces the theology of the missio Dei from conception to realization, which is accomplished by examining Karl Hartenstein’s theology categorized according to his early and later works against the larger context of Karl Barth’s influence. It cannot be stated enough that Barth’s revolutionary theology had significantly impacted the shape and trajectory of contemporary theology. This impact is equally true regarding Barth’s effect on the theology of mission. What is more, Hartenstein’s formulation of the missio Dei developed from Barth’s interrogation of nineteenth century modern Protestant theology, which led to his convictions regarding the Word of God. Therefore, in order to examine the problem of the missio Dei and its impact on mission today, this chapter compares the initial similarities in Barth and Hartenstein’s theologies and the divergences in their later development. The origins of the missio Dei begin with Hartenstein’s reception of Barth’s earlier works, starting with his Romans. A direct line of thought from Romans can be seen in Hartenstein’s early theology of mission, which is evident in his early address, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths der Mission zu sagen? (What Does Karl Barth’s Theology Say to Mission?). Here, the themes of revelation, religion, and eschatology are carried through from Barth to Hartenstein. Particularly with religion and eschatology, Hartenstein takes a distinct anthropocentric turn in his later works as he distinguishes himself from Barth’s line of thought. Ultimately, this anthropocentrism distances Hartenstein’s missio Dei from the implications that Barth’s theology might 43

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have had toward mission theology. In order to understand the development of the missio Dei and its resulting problems, this chapter first brings to attention the moments where Barth and Hartenstein agree. It then moves to consider, more importantly, where they ultimately diverge. Thus, this chapter shows that tracing contemporary theologies of mission back to Barth is untenable given the distance that Hartenstein moves away from Barth’s theology despite numerous claims to the contrary. KARL BARTH Missiologists generally concur that Karl Barth stands at the forefront of many contemporary theologies of mission. Peter Bellini suggests that “Karl Barth inspired the idea of missio Dei and Karl Hartenstein coined the term.”1 Many scholars attribute Barth’s 1932 address, “Die Theologie und die Mission in der Gegenwart” (“Theology and Mission in the Present Situation”), which he presented at a missionary conference in Brandenburg, Germany, as the source of inspiration for Hartenstein. However, Barth’s influence traces back a decade earlier to the publication of his Romans commentary, more specifically to its second edition published in 1922, for it was here that Hartenstein found the seeds for his theology of the missio Dei.2 Many of the themes found in Hartenstein’s initial formulations, such as revelation, religion, and eschatology, are directly drawn from Barth’s precursory work, and so Romans serves as the point of departure for understanding the concept of the missio Dei. Romans has been described as a theological bombshell that changed the course of modern theology. The occasion for this commentary came in the wake of World War I when Barth witnessed the German Church throw their support for their country’s acts of aggression. Disillusioned by the liberalism that defined German theology, Barth could no longer “accept their ethics and dogmatics or their understanding of the Bible and of history.”3 This disillusionment led to the development of Barth’s “theology of crisis.” David Congdon attributes Barth’s move away from German liberalism toward his dialectical theology to a newfound missionary consciousness shaped by his reaction to the cultural captivity of mission within Western imperialism.4 Thus, Barth found it necessary to go back to the drawing board as it were, tearing down the liberalism in which he was trained in order to build anew from his own investigations of Scripture. This chapter begins by examining Barth’s doctrine of the Word of God in his early and later works in order to set the backdrop to Hartenstein’s theology of the missio Dei. Barth’s theology remained consistent throughout, and many of the core emphases found in his earlier writings are further developed



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in his later works. Romans marks the beginning of Barth’s turn and serves as the foundation for all his subsequent works. His concept of revelation, which is identified as one of the persistent themes throughout his career, finds its origins here. According to Bruce McCormack, “The gains made in Romans II [the second edition] are everywhere presupposed throughout the Church Dogmatics; that the continuity in theological perspective between these two great works outweighs the discontinuity that those who wish to read the dogmatics without the benefit of the lens provided by Romans II will understand everything in the wrong light.”5 Barth saw revelation as a stand against notions that the knowledge of God was possible via human capacities—whether by human psyche, history, or morality6—and this early commentary was a rebuttal arguing that the knowledge of God could be made known only by God’s own self-disclosure. This was a theological development that Hartenstein wholeheartedly embraced in his understanding of mission as God’s initiative and not of human origin, so revelation became a key factor in understanding mission. Barth on Revelation Hartenstein’s initial impulse to formulate a theology of mission based on Barth’s understanding of revelation is astute. Barth’s study of the book of Romans provides significant insight into the connection between the doctrine of revelation and the theology of mission. According to New Testament scholar Klyne Snodgrass, the study of revelation in the book of Romans has been severely neglected. He writes, “Scholars spend a great deal of time talking about themes such as justification and righteousness, but they do not actually discuss the gospel as an independent subject frequently, and even less do they offer a comprehensive treatment of revelation.”7 In fact, there are considerable correlations between revelation and the gospel that suggest the two are essentially referring to the same thing.8 Consequently, revelation “brings a mandate for mission” and at the same time “serve[s] the needs of mission.”9 Barth’s efforts to formulate a theology of revelation came at the heels of nineteenth-century liberal Protestantism, where the knowledge of God was thought to be “ascertained by human minds on the basis of rational argument, historical enquiry, analysis of the structures of human perception or moral motivation.”10 Under this rubric, knowing God was reduced to human possibility. The result was the “loss of transcendence,” where reason became the “source of revelation rather than a response to it.”11 Against these currents, Barth’s theology attempted to return revelation to God as its source. He asserted that God was wholly other, and consequently, that “we have no organ or capacity for God, that we are in enmity against Him.”12 Humans on

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their own were incapable of grasping the knowledge of God, and it was only through himself that God made himself known. Revelation became the solution to this enmity that reversed the consequences of the fall. Revelation occupies Barth’s central argument of Romans. In other words, revelation is the central theme by which the rest of the text is understood. McCormack describes the book’s purpose as to proclaim “the independence of revelation and, with that, an ineradicable difference between the knowledge of God and the knowledge of creaturely (empirical or nonempirical) reality.”13 This juxtaposition was a reaction against the liberal theologians who viewed revelation as something graspable via human capacities. Barth described their theology as “primarily and definitely interested in human, and particularly the Christian, religion within the framework of our modern outlook on the world, considering God, His work, and His Word from this point of view, and adopting the critical attitude towards the message of the Bible and ecclesiastical tradition—to this extent, an anthropocentric theology.”14 According to T. F. Torrance, the effect of liberal theology was a tendency to water down and neutralize the message of the New Testament, including its testimony regarding revelation. Torrance writes, “The ‘Christianity’ which Barth found himself around him in Switzerland and Germany, in the teaching or life of the Church, was indistinguishable in its manifestation from the mind or life of the world around it.”15 In short, the liberal theology of the nineteenth century demonstrated an anthropocentric construal of revelation where human nature and ability is the starting point. God became “an object like any other, constructed by human epistemic activity and, as such, the clear possession of the human knower.”16 For Barth, however, humanity was incapable of bringing about the knowledge of God from within, let alone saving themselves from God’s judgment. Barth wrote, Those who do not know the unknown God . . . have neither occasion nor possibility of lifting themselves up. So is it also with those who know Him; for they too are men; they too belong to the world of time. There is no human righteousness by which men can escape the wrath of God! There is no magnificent temporality of this world which can justify men before God. There is no arrangement of affairs or deportment of behaviour, no disposition of mind or depth of feeling, no intuition or understanding, which is, by its own virtue, pleasing to God. Men are men, and they belong to the world of men: that which is born of the flesh is flesh. Every concrete and tangible thing belongs within the order of time. Everything which emerges in men and which owes its form and expansion to them is always and everywhere, and as such, ungodly and unclean. The kingdom of men is, without exception, never the Kingdom of God; and since there are no men so fortunate as to be incumbents in the Kingdom of God, no man can exonerate or excuse himself.17



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Barth refuted the modern liberal epistemological hermeneutic by placing revelation outside of the grasp of human capacity wherein the otherness of the unintuitable God who, by his own will, freely made himself intuitable to humanity. For Barth, the human capacity to intuit God was realized in their ability to engage God within the boundaries of history. This possibility meant that a particular event must have occurred within the human historical experience to bridge the gap between God and the world. At this early stage in his development, Barth understood this intersection between God and humans as the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Barth wrote, Jesus Christ our Lord. This is the Gospel and the meaning of history. In this name two worlds meet and go apart, two planes intersect, the one known and the other unknown. The known plane is God’s creation, fallen out of its union with Him, and therefore the world of the “flesh” needing redemption, the world of men, and of time, and of things—our world. This known plane is intersected by another plane that is unknown—the world of the Father, of the Primal Creation, and of the final Redemption. The relation between us and God, between this world and His world, presses for recognition, but the line of intersection is not self-evident. The point on the line of intersection at which the relation becomes observable and observed is Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth, the historical Jesus,—born of the seed of David according to the flesh. The name Jesus defines an historical occurrence and marks the point where the unknown world cuts the known world. . . . As the Christ, He brings the world of the Father.18

Revelation could only be understood in Christ, and it was only through him that the revelation of God was made known. What is more, this intersection was not in some general notion of Christ for Barth but in the particular event of the resurrection. Barth wrote, The Resurrection from the dead is, however, the transformation: the establishing or declaration of that point from above, and the corresponding discerning of it from below. The Resurrection is the revelation: the disclosing of Jesus as the Christ, the appearing of God, and the apprehending of God in Jesus. The Resurrection is the emergence of the necessity of giving glory to God: the reckoning with what is unknown and unobservable in Jesus, the recognition of Him as Paradox, Victor, and Primal History.19

At the moment of the resurrection, the realm of God tangentially touched the world of humanity. The resurrection was the miracle where “the unknown God dwelling in light unapproachable, the holy one, creator, and Redeemer, makes himself known.”20

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Revelation continued to be a central concept in Barth’s later theology and the filter through which he interpreted all knowledge of God. Just as it was his starting point in Romans, it continued to be so in his Church Dogmatics.21 It was in the Church Dogmatics that Barth offered his most thorough examination of his understanding of revelation. For him, revelation was “the appearance of that which is new; the appearance, therefore, of . . . Jesus Christ Himself, His person in its concrete reality.”22 For Barth, God revealed himself in the person of Christ, who was not the “verification of the a priori wit of man,”23 but the eternal Word of God manifested in the world by becoming flesh. According to Eberhard Busch, “This Word is not something different, then, from God himself, but is God himself, God defined in it, so that we are dealing with God himself in it.”24 It was only from identifying the Word of God that Barth began to define revelation. All historical witness and human speech about God hinged on the fact that God reveals himself through himself as himself. In other words, for Barth, the person of Jesus Christ was the revelation of the Word of God. The question of how God was made known was answered in the form of a person. For according to Barth, “God’s revelation is Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”25 This meant that the knowledge of God could not take place apart from the revelation of the Son. This revelation did not take place in abstraction but in concrete reality and history, for “there is no Word of God without a physical event,”26 and “to say revelation is to say ‘The Word became flesh.’”27 What Barth was referring to was Christ’s incarnation, the real and physical presence of Jesus in the realm of human history. In other words, revelation took on a concrete historical character. It was not something that existed in an ethereal space above temporal reality. Instead, revelation took on a tangible form within that reality. Barth developed this concept through the threefold forms of revelation as the Word of God preached, the Word of God written, and the Word of God revealed. The final form, which was for Barth the main form, was the very reality of the person of Jesus Christ. Barth derived the other forms of revelation as Scripture and proclamation from the reality of Christ, where Scripture recalled the Word revealed in history and proclamation looked forward to the promise of the Word in history. At the center stood Christ as the focal point to the historical arc of revelation. The Old Testament held the record of the hope of revelation that looked toward the coming of Christ, while the New Testament held to the promise of future hope. For Barth, proclamation was simply a continuation of this New Testament hope lived out in the church. As Busch describes it, “The Word of God is the reality of the fact that God has made and does make himself known to us in the concrete history of Jesus Christ, which summarizes the history of Israel, and which is imparted to us by the Holy Spirit, attested to in Holy Scripture, and then proclaimed to us in the church in accordance with Scripture.”28 This



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meant that revelation necessarily took place within the created order. It was a temporal act and event within the history of time and space beyond the extent of God’s immanent being. According to Barth, “The concept of the Word of God is connected with that of history,”29 because the person of Christ as the Word was “the person of the Lord of history.”30 That the Word was revealed through Jesus Christ by becoming flesh and thus entering into the creaturely realm was an acknowledgment of this fact. Furthermore, Barth’s christological orientation of revelation could not be detached from his understanding of the Trinity. The Trinity permeates Barth’s work as the underlying framework for his Church Dogmatics. For him, it was the very doctrine that “distinguishes the Christian doctrine of God as Christian.”31 In other words, the Trinity was the root of all theology. According to Kenneth Kantzer, “The presupposition of the incarnation of Christ is the pre-existent logos and the Christian doctrine of the trinity.”32 This is why Clifford Green rejects the accusations of “christomonism” leveled against Barth from his observations of a trinitarian structure in Church Dogmatics.33 Furthermore, the doctrine of the Trinity was for Barth what undergirded revelation and Christology.34 It was through the Trinity that the knowledge of God was possible, for “the triune God becomes knowable through the triune event of God’s self-disclosure.”35 Barth drew his understanding of revelation according to this trinitarian shape, for it was through God’s particular trinitarian being that he made himself known. Trinity and revelation went hand in hand, for it was the triune God who revealed himself, and what was revealed was that God is triune. Barth compared the threefold form of the Word of God by way of analogy to the inner workings of the Trinity, wherein the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father and the Son as the Son was begotten of the Father. Similarly, the proclaimed Word was dependent upon the Word of Scripture, which was in turn dependent upon the revealed Word of God. Thus, the Word of God preached and the Word of God written were for Barth “derivatively and indirectly . . . God’s Word.”36 Barth on Religion Religion was a topic that Barth addressed throughout his career. Although his conversations regarding religion may not have been directly intended to address mission, they have significant ramifications for its theology and practice. According to Carl Starkloff, “[Barth’s] understanding of ‘religion’ as a human phenomenon and endeavor . . . brings into focus the many positions now being taken around the question of mission.”37 What is more, Hartenstein’s theology of the missio Dei was in part informed by his later understanding and experience of religion in contradistinction to Barth’s own

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views. Hartenstein’s convictions that once aligned with Barth’s aversion to religion dramatically shifted toward an affirmation of religion. Therefore, it is crucial to trace Barth’s views on religion compared to that of Hartenstein. Barth addressed religion from the very beginning. His critique of religion was a persistent theme throughout his works from Romans to Church Dogmatics, though this critique became nuanced over time.38 What is more, Barth’s critique had profound consequences to the doctrine of revelation. For him, religion was the highest achievement of human possibility. It stood in tension against revelation as the limit of human existence. The extent of religion was its ability to point toward the object of God’s revelation, which led humanity toward grace and faith. But religion itself was not the answer to humanity’s fallen condition. Its significance was indirect in that it invited humanity toward faith. As such, it was an “impress of revelation,” a mere shadow of God’s revelation. For Barth, both the law and religion were “impression[s] of divine revelation left behind in time, in history, and in the lives of men.”39 They were not revelations in themselves but signposts pointing to something more significant. Their effect was to demonstrate humanity’s need for something greater by pointing to the negative space found within religion. Joseph Mangina describes this space to function as “a kind of negative witness to the true state of affairs—that human beings are grasped by One who is ‘wholly other.’”40 God was revealed in dialectical terms: “‘God’ in his opposite: godlessness and abandonment by God.”41 In contrast to religion, revelation was “from God; . . . it is not bound to the impress which it had once made, but is free.”42 Only by revelation, Christ as the Word of God, could this negative space left by religion be understood and fulfilled. While confronted throughout the entire book, chapter 7 of Barth’s second edition of Romans was wholly dedicated to addressing religion. Here, Barth described religion as a human possibility—though it may be considered the supreme of all human possibilities—and therefore a limited possibility that fell short of the grace of God, a grace that was possible only from above.43 Religion was the mechanism by which humanity could recognize grace. Barth wrote, “Religion is a human possibility, a limited possibility, which by its ineffectiveness, establishes and authenticates the freedom of God to confer grace upon men.”44 Grace could not be conferred by religion; only God could give it. Instead, religion exposed the reality of sin where humanity had no inner capacity to overcome it.45 Barth characterized religion as arrogant as if by religion, humanity could somehow know and therefore obtain God. At best, religion was an “impress” of revelation—and for that matter, a “negative impress”—where it only revealed that what was lacking in religion was to be found in Christ alone.46 Through religion, humanity could understand the reality of their own fallenness. According to Barth, “Through religion we perceive that men have rebelled against God. . . . We are now driven to



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the consideration of that freedom which lies beyond the concrete visibility of sin—the freedom of God which is our freedom.”47 Religion revealed the depths of humanity’s sinful reality and marked their existence as a rebellion against God. Thus, for Barth, the purpose of religion was to draw humanity’s attention to the need for Christ. Barth considered religion to be a human possibility, and the limits of that possibility—what he referred to as the “frontier of religion”—was the realization of sin and judgment. It recognized humanity’s “wretchedness.” Thus, Barth declared, “We have seen at last the reality of religion; we have recognized what men are. How vast a gulf separates the nineteenth century conquering-hero attitude of religion from that disgust of men as themselves, which is the characteristic mark of true religion!”48 His remark was a scathing critique of the liberal disposition toward religion. The solution lay in Christ, whom Barth understood to be the revelation of God. Grace was beyond the limits of this frontier and could only be realized by that which laid on the other side of that boundary, which was Christ. According to Barth, “Christ is the end of the law, the frontier of religion,”49 and “Jesus Christ is the new man, standing beyond all piety, beyond all human possibility.”50 For all that religion could do, it could not provide the solution to the human problem. According to Tom Greggs, “The inability of humans to reach God through religion makes them rely on God’s initiative through his grace.”51 This initiative was, for Barth, God’s free revelation of himself that originated outside of human capacity and outside of human religion. In short, while religion provided some insight into the human condition, it offered no path to knowing God. Barth returned to the topic of religion in his later dogmatic attempts. In his Göttingen Dogmatics, he described religion’s attempt to draw a path to God, writing, “A ramp is built so that one may easily (‘casually’!) climb up from the general history of the spirit and religion to Jesus as the top, that is, to revelation.”52 This ramp was what allowed humanity to traverse from religion to revelation, only to conclude that it did not lead to revelation at all. Rather, for Barth, revelation stood apart from history. He wrote, “The history of Deus dixit [the revelation of God] has, as qualified history, no such links with the rest of history.”53 But it was in his Church Dogmatics that Barth gave a detailed treatment of religion. He gave particular attention to the subject in the paragraph titled “The Revelation of God as the Abolition of Religion,” where religion was continually juxtaposed against the revelation of God. In fact, many of the threads that began in Romans could be seen in this later work. However, with time, Barth’s juxtaposition of religion and revelation became more nuanced and refined. Garrett Green attributes this to a dialectical understanding of the “interrelationship” between religion and revelation.54

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Barth defined revelation as the “judging and reconciling presence of God in the world of human religion,” and further defined religion as “man’s attempts to justify and to sanctify himself before a capricious and arbitrary picture of God.”55 The role of religion was also a constant factor in Barth’s formulation of revelation.56 Where in Romans religion was the “impress of revelation,” in Church Dogmatics religion was itself a negative revelation and, therefore, revelation itself. He wrote, If we do not wish to deny God’s revelation as revelation, we cannot avoid the fact that it can also be regarded from a standpoint from which it may in certain circumstances be denied as God’s revelation. In fact, it can and must also be regarded as “Christianity,” and therefore as religion. . . . In this decision the point at issue cannot be whether God’s revelation has also to be regarded as man’s religion, and therefore as a religion among other religions. We saw that to deny this statement would be to deny the human aspect of revelation, and this would be to deny revelation as such.57

Barth brought into closer tension the dialectic of the interrelationship between revelation and religion by inserting the human element as the recipient of God’s revelation. Notably, this dialectic still leaned further toward the “no” than the “yes” in determining whether revelation was received in religion.58 But this by no means denied the role that religion played in the grand scheme of God’s revelation. What was at stake for Barth was subordinating revelation as a religious category. The danger was to place revelation under religion, which was a construct of humanity, thereby wholly denying the transcendence of revelation. For Barth, It is always the sign of definite misunderstanding when an attempt is made systematically to co-ordinate revelation and religion, i.e., to treat them as comparable spheres, to mark them off from each other, to fix their mutual relationship. The intention and purpose may be to start at religion, and therefore man, and in that way to subordinate revelation to religion, ultimately perhaps even to let it merge into it. . . . For where we think that revelation can be compared or equated with religion, we have not understood it as revelation.59

Religion could never replace revelation because of its starting point in humanity. Although religion was not necessary, it was inevitable because revelation was received within the phenomenon of human experience. Religion was understood in view of revelation—Christ revealed to humanity for the sake of humanity—and in the context of humanity, revelation was made sense in the form of religion. For according to Barth, “If revelation is to be understood, man must not be overlooked or eliminated. And the same is true of religion.”60

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At the same time, however, Barth warned of the dangers of equating religion as revelation. According to G. Green, “The problem is not that modern theology has attributed a religious character to revelation but rather that it has made religion into the criterion of revelation rather than the other way around. The theological task at hand is therefore to establish the priority of revelation over religion without denying the religious nature of revelation.”61 Barth understood religion as a human phenomenon that could never substitute the revealed Word of God. Neither could religion be the source of revelation. At best, it served as a negative revelation that pointed toward the human lack and the need for the revealed Word. Barth on Eschatology Eschatology was another area of thought that Barth brought into significance for mission theology. Before Romans, concepts of revelation and eschatology had little to do with mission. Theologians such as Martin Kähler, Johannes Weiss, and Albert Schweitzer had already begun to critique the liberal hermeneutics of mission. Bosch writes, “They showed that the prevailing liberal interpretation of God’s Kingdom in the message of Jesus as an inner-worldly, evolutionary, progressive and ethical concept was an illusion and hermeneutically totally indefensible.”62 The answer to this problem was found in eschatology. Bosch continues, Weiss and Schweitzer rediscovered the consistently eschatological elements in the message of Jesus—elements that at the time were only recognised by ecclesiastically peripheral groups and fanatics. The rediscovery, however, remained for some time the hobby of professional theologians who neglected to communicate the full implications of their find to Church and theology.63

Barth, too, emphasized the importance of eschatology, systematically incorporating it within his larger theological schema. In this vein, Hartenstein discovered the importance of Barth’s Romans and the richness of the implications found therein. As such, Romans became a critical document for the shifting missiological paradigm of eschatological thinking. Eschatology was for Barth a significant concern in Romans, for all theology was “in its entirety [ganz und gar und restlos] eschatology.”64 According to Torrance, Romans was the “great turning-point in modern understanding of eschatology” because “eschatology [had] to do with the very roots of faith and belongs to the inner core of the Gospel.”65 Furthermore, the eschatology of the Romans period could be labeled as a “timeless eschatology,” where the dialectic tension was established between time and eternity and between history and eschatology. For Barth, history was the space that occupied the “old

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world of fallen humanity,” while the eschaton occupied the “new world of God.”66 He upturned previous chronologic notions of eschatology by “replacing the temporal definition ‘then,’ which belongs to a futuristic eschatology, with the local definition ‘there’ as an expression of the dialectic between time and eternity.”67 Barth’s eschatology was, according to Jürgen Moltmann, “not history, moving silently and interminably onwards . . . but on the contrary it is now the eschaton, breaking transcendentally into history, that brings all human history to its final crisis,” and was “equally near to all the ages of history and equally far from all of them.”68 As such, the eschaton was not the capstone to the end of history but a “wholly other” reality existing on the other side of the fall. Barth’s understanding of history significantly informed his understanding of eschatology. Various accusations have been raised against Barth concerning his conception of history, surmising that he denied the reality of the recorded events surrounding the life of Jesus Christ, such as the resurrection. However, this critique becomes unsustainable when taking into consideration how Barth understood and used the terms to refer to history in German, which are Historie and Geschichte. Much of the confusion is due to the nuances within the German language that are paved over when rendered in English. Understanding how Barth used these terms becomes critical to understanding his view of eschatology. According to Barth, “‘Historie’ is something that can be proved by general historical science, whereas ‘Geschichte’ is something that really takes place in time and space, but may or may not be proved.”69 More specifically, Barth understood Historie as “history that is accessible to man because it is visible and perceptible to him and can be comprehended as history.”70 G. Green further elaborates upon the concept of Historie as, on the one hand, a “technical term for the modern critical discipline of history, designating both the academic practice itself and the object of its research. . . . It designates historiography as distinct from history in a more general sense.”71 Geschichte, on the other hand, was not verifiable through modern techniques and was considered unhistorical or nonhistorical history [unhistorische Geschichte]. To put it succinctly, the distinction between Geschichte and Historie is respectively “history as event and history as record.”72 As such, Historie was subsumed under Geschichte, that is, under “real history [wirklich Geschichte].”73 It was in this sense of real history that Barth understood the concept of history in Romans. One of Hartenstein’s later critiques was that Barth’s eschatology did not consider the historical nature of biblical events. However, Barth did not view the biblical events as nonhistorical per se but rather as something beyond the reach of historiographic methods. When he said that “the Resurrection is not an event in history at all,”74 it was with the understanding that the resurrection was not subject to historiographic verification. However,



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this did not mean that Barth denied the resurrection to have ever taken place within the bounds of concrete history [Geschichte]. Elsewhere, he wrote that the resurrection was “not an event of historical extension [historischer Ausdehnung] alongside the other events of his life and death, but the ‘nonhistorical’ . . . relation [unhistorische Beziehung] of his whole historical life [historischen Lebens] to His origin in God.”75 Likewise, the eschaton was not an extension of Historie but was seen from the point of Urgeschichte (primal history), where “the new world of the Holy Spirit touches the old world of the flesh, but touches it . . . without touching it.”76 The eschaton touched the old world at a single point “without extension along the line of historical time” and thereby being “unintuitable to us.”77 The event of the resurrection only became intuitable by its own power, and it was only in the resurrection that the unintuitable God became intuitable and the hidden was made known. Ultimately, Barth’s time-eternity and history-eschatology dialectic were replaced by concepts of old and new time.78 According to Schwarz, the dialectic between history and eschatology found its basis in Platonic dualistic ontology rather than Jewish apocalypticism.79 As such, Barth’s early position “did not recover the whole dimension of biblical eschatology” because it lacked the temporal aspect.80 His later works addressed this neglect. According to Torrance, “Barth soon discovered that the position had formulated in his commentary on Romans . . . was actually untenable, both because it did not square with the New Testament emphasis on the Incarnation, and space and time, and because it involved contradictorily enough a dialectic between time and eternity that cut across the essentially eschatological tension of faith.”81 In Romans, the eschatological emphasis was on the resurrection. What is more, he later recognized that this text was written within a particular context, and given the chance, would have expressed things differently.82 Nevertheless, the eschatology of Romans developed “certain underexposed . . . elements” that are addressed in Barth’s later writings.83 For example, John McDowell identifies the lack of emphasis on Christology in relation to eschatology during the early period. It was only in his later dogmatics that Christology became the central focus of his theology as a whole. McCormack attributes this shift to occur when Barth came to understand the incarnation as the mode of mediation that preserved the distinction between God and humanity.84 The emphasis of Barth’s hermeneutic became an “incarnationally grounded trinitarian methodology” where his eschatology was “rooted in a christological context.”85 This shift allowed him to move past the time-eternity dialectic and at the same time maintain the otherness of God by expanding revelation’s moment of intersection from the singular event of the cross to the entirety of the incarnation.86 As Thomas Torrance puts it, Barth “interpreted the Word of God in the most concrete and positive way, strictly in terms of the person of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Son of God . . . and even more strictly in terms of

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the Holy Trinity as the ground and basis of everything.”87 Christology became the measure by which Barth understood eschatology. This christological concentration necessitated Barth’s revision to his interpretive method and its implications for the dialectic between time and eternity. Consequently, according to Torrance, Barth gave up what was called a “timeless eschatology,” and set himself to take seriously the New Testament teaching of an imminent advent of the Kingdom in time and yet to see that as belonging to the inner core of faith. This meant that the real eschatological tension was not interpreted in terms of an eternity/ time dialectic, which always means in the end a refusal to take time seriously, but rather in terms of tension between the new and the old, of a new time in reconciliation and union with the eternal and an old time which is the time of this fallen world and which through sin exists in mysterious contradiction to God.88

Barth’s eschatology no longer neglected the concrete realities of time and history. However, this reality was subsumed under the incarnate reality of Christ, who was both the subject and object of revelation. The starting point of theology was not found in the human apart from their union with Christ in his humanity. It was this union that Torrance describes as the doctrine of analogia gratiae, an “analogous relation set up by the grace of God between man and God in and through Jesus Christ, in which knowledge of God takes place within a genuine relation of creaturely correspondence, reflection, and conformity to God himself in his self-communication and self-revelation.”89 Humanity was not absent in the process of revelation. However, revelation was neither determined by nor dependent upon the human. As such, all of Barth’s theology was centered on Christology rather than anthropology, and humanity could interpret the content of eschatology through Christ to be no other than Christ himself. Barth wrote, The Word of God as the Word of reconciliation directed to us is the Word by which God announces Himself to man, i.e., by which He promises Himself as the content of man’s future, as the One who meets him on his way through time as the end of all time, as the hidden Lord of all times. His presence by the Word is His presence as the coming One, coming for the fulfilment and consummation of the relation established between Him and us in creation and renewed and confirmed in reconciliation. Again this final Word cannot be a word of man. Human words are never final words. They are never the promise of a specific and definitive coming of the Other. It is proper to God’s Word and to God’s Word alone to be also the full and authentic presence of the Speaker even if this be as the coming One. God’s Word is the Word of our Redeemer, i.e., of the Lord who will be Lord as He was and is, who in His relation to us keeps faith both with Himself and us. In this way He is Lord indeed, the Lord of all lords. And



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whatever God may say to us, it will at all events be said always in this final, consummating, eschatological relation too.90

Barth placed the focus of eschatology on the person at the center of the revelation of God.91 In other words, eschatology meant less about the ultimate destiny of humanity and more about Christ as the hope for the Christian faith. KARL HARTENSTEIN Having attuned to the unfolding of Barth’s understanding of revelation, religion, and eschatology, it is now possible to turn to Hartenstein’s reception and application of Barth’s theology. Hartenstein’s earliest works relied extensively on Barth’s theology of revelation, though neither Barth nor his theology was typically well-received within missionary circles. According to John Flett, this association between Barth and mission brought a degree of social stigma.92 He attributes this to a fear within German missiological circles that Barth’s rejection of the Volkstum ideology—a term generally used to describe German ethnicity, nationhood, culture, or customs—as the organizing principle for German missiological thinking ran counter to their missionary efforts.93 For example, German theologian Werner Elert wrote of the significance of German identity in mission: “If the missionary is no longer capable of appreciating his own Volkstum, he cannot be expected to appreciate the foreign Volkstum which he is supposed to cultivate in his converts.”94 Hartenstein, too, had initially ascribed to the Volkstum ideology. However, he ultimately became disillusioned with the promise of Adolf Hitler’s National Socialist agenda. In this context, Hartenstein saw Barth’s theology as a potential source to offer much toward developing a much needed revision to mission, stating, “Even if he [Barth] is not ‘close’ to mission, we have to ask ourselves, in view of his position, whether or not, in the end, we are not distant from the most decisive thing that he is trying to express.”95 According to Jacques Rossel, Hartenstein found a seed for renewing mission from its captivity to Christendom within Barth’s understanding of revelation. He saw the need to reassess mission’s commitment to Christendom and alternatively found the answer in Barth’s theology of crisis, where Christian knowledge was a matter of “the Either-Or, the understanding or the failure to understand the three words apo tou theou (from God).”96 Hartenstein was able to clear “a path between key dialectical themes and the theology of mission,” and “his emphasis on the primacy of the Word shifted the focus from a phenomenological to an exegetical basis.”97 Barth’s Romans was Hartenstein’s point of departure for relating the theology of revelation to mission. Referring to Barth as a “witness to the revelation of God,”98 Hartenstein attributed his ensuing

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theology of mission directly to Barth’s “corrective” against their contemporary theological landscape. For this reason, the theme of revelation permeates much of Hartenstein’s early theology. Hartenstein’s use of Barth began with his 1927 lecture, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths der Mission zu sagen? This lecture brought together the conversations between mission and dialectical theology that “pointed German missiology as a whole in a new direction.”99⁠ According to Flett, this source also “establishes key thrusts of what would become missio Dei theology.”100 Much of Hartenstein’s lecture reflected Barth’s earlier works, especially his Romans. Barth was an unlikely source for mission theologians at the time, being described as someone who was “far from our missionary work” and “does not belong to the circles that broadly support us today.”101 It was precisely this distance that allowed Hartenstein to pave a new way for thinking about mission. However, by 1933, Hartenstein had already begun to move away from Barth’s presumptions. This period coincided with Hartenstein’s publication of his dissertation, Die Mission als theologisches Problem, where he attempted to “define the relationship of the gospel to Christianity on the one hand, and to foreign religions on the other.”102 Here, Hartenstein found it necessary to define the relationship between the gospel and religion. The salient points regarding revelation from his earlier works remained broadly consistent moving forward. However, his understanding of religion ultimately shifted the missio Dei’s trajectory away from any sort of Barthian persuasion. Hartenstein’s dissertation established the core concepts that informed his later writings, where the link between revelation and religion would become a crucial dimension to the understanding of mission. As such, where previously Hartenstein agreed wholeheartedly with Barth regarding religion, he later differentiated his stance by affirming the necessity of religion in the context of mission. Also, Hartenstein’s eschatology was shaped by his renewed interest in Pietism, which further distanced him from Barth. Pietism’s “propheticeschatological character” and motif of salvation history served as the “key to Hartenstein’s theology and missiology thinking,”103⁠ which ultimately “manifested itself in the missio Dei.”104 In order to understand the ramifications of Hartenstein’s move away from Barth, this section examines Hartenstein’s early works against his later works, the trajectory of his theologies or revelation, religion, and eschatology, and how they compare and contrast to Barth’s theology. Hartenstein on Revelation Barth’s revolutionary theology was where Hartenstein found fruitful soil toward developing a new understanding of mission, for he viewed revelation



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as expressed by Barth as “the ground, content, and standard of all knowledge of faith.”105 Hartenstein contrasted revelation to other modern philosophies of phenomenological historicism and scientific rationalism. For him, this contrast removed revelation from the grasp of human possibility, for “it must remain God’s own revelation, over which we men neither have nor ever will have authority.”106 Both historicism and rationalism failed in that the former blurred the boundaries between God and humanity, and the latter supposed that God was merely a cognitive possibility. Instead, the Barthian notion of revelation countered human experience and reason by imparting the knowledge of God through faith in Christ. In contrast to religious experience, which included Christianity, the revelation of God in Scripture was of a different reality of meaning and structure. Instead, for Hartenstein, “Faith stands solely on the Word, listens to it, and is aimed at God against all experience.”107 Hartenstein further contrasted revelation from reason’s attempt to solve and prove the question of God, thereby elevating human attempts at knowledge with God’s revelation, for God was a cognitive impossibility. Hartenstein, therefore, concluded, “The revelation of God cannot be understood, only believed. . . . As God’s revelation, it remains hidden and unseen, to be gained only in the decision of faith.”108 The result was that revelation was removed from human capacities of experience and reason by giving itself over to God as his action in the world and the life of the believer. Hartenstein’s appropriation of Barth’s theology of revelation revealed two distinct characteristics. The first was the transcendent character of revelation. That is, the source of revelation was beyond any human capacity, and revelation itself was “truth beyond all reason.”109 Revelation came neither by human wisdom nor by church doctrine, and it could never be proven, lest it is led back to reason, but could only be heard and understood as the personal act of God. Hartenstein rejected any attempts to ground the knowledge of God within human capacity, writing, “Revelation is not ‘of the world,’ often it is ‘contrary to the world.’ It is not born out of the heart or the thought of man. It comes into the world from a completely different dimension.”110⁠ In other words, the origin of revelation as truth was from Godself, never in the hands of humans to be manipulated or controlled but only witnessed. The second characteristic found in Hartenstein’s understanding of revelation was that it was concretely located in the person of Jesus Christ. Hartenstein wrote, “[Revelation] comes only as the self-manifestation of God in Jesus Christ. He alone is Revelation, the only Revelation of God.”111 Hartenstein understood that Christ, the revealed Word of God, was testified in the Scriptures and witnessed by the community of faith, for all knowledge about God and the world were made known through Christ. Hartenstein stood in agreement with Barth in the christological structure of revelation: Jesus Christ is both the revealer of God’s Word and at the same time God’s revealed

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Word. Hartenstein countered any attempts to evaluate the person of Christ through the critical methods represented by the so-called “historical Jesus,” stating that all knowledge of God and reality came only through Christ. Hartenstein fundamentally denied any attempts to understand Christ through factual or scientific methods that have relied on worldly sources of knowledge, for Christ could not be understood but only witnessed. Hartenstein said, “Flesh and blood” cannot simply allow us to recognize the historical Jesus as the Son of God; it cannot allow us to understand him directly in his (inconceivable) glory and power. . . . The historical appearance of Jesus cannot be unambiguously grasped scientifically. Some see in him the high, moral religiosity of a prophet. Others see in him the incomprehensible messianic fanatic who can only be understood as the bringer of a new world. [But] For history [Geschichte], Christ remains a mystery.112

Knowledge of God came only through the Word that was revealed in history but was not of history. Again, this followed suit with Barth’s view of the transcendence of Christ’s revelation, for “Christ [was] for the Barthians neither a figure of history to which we try to discover some relatedness, nor a supernatural wonder; neither an object for religious and mystical experiences nor the crowning stone on a fine structure of pure thought.”113 Instead, the knowledge was made known through the free action of God as the revealed Word. According to Hartenstein, “God can only be known through his personal Word, through Christ Jesus, of whom the scriptures bear witness.”114 In other words, all knowledge came from above through Christ alone. Christ was, according to Hartenstein, the solution to the dualism between time and eternity where eternal truth took shape in historical witness. This meant that the reality of Christ was made known to a world that existed in history but could not be understood by the world through its own historical-critical or experiential-phenomenological methods. It was only by God’s self-revealing that the world was brought into relation with God. Hartenstein used the crucifixion and the resurrection as penultimate examples of this revelation. Neither were simply events that took place in history. Instead, they were the “decisive and important message from God spoken to man.”115 They were God’s speech toward humanity through his actions within time made known by faith. Moreover, it was through this revelation that humanity was freed from the limitations of religion’s impress. Hartenstein’s understanding of Christ as the revealed Word of God continued into his later period. According to him, “The revelation of God in Christ is the only fact by which the true God has revealed Himself truly.”116 It was Christ who, as the Word of God, was the “crisis” of all religions, including Christianity, and “the judgment and fulfillment of all religions.”117 What is



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more, the church played a significant role by becoming the space in which revelation occurred in the world. It was the place of witness to the Word of God. It was the locus where revelation took shape and gave mission its form. Hartenstein understood the church as the body of Christ who was, in turn, the revelation of God and became “the critical force within Christianity, the invisible community in which the Word of God dwells, which is beyond our delimitation and judgment, but acts as a constant crisis towards Christianity.”118 Hartenstein on Religion In light of these facts, the distinction between revelation and religion becomes highly relevant to Hartenstein’s missional conversation. His early theology addressed liberalism’s notion of equating religious experience with the revelation of God. Hartenstein criticized those who viewed “the religious experiences in the soul [as] the expression of communion with God” where “the pious self-consciousness is regarded as an experience of God.”119 For Hartenstein, this notion was a betrayal of God’s revelation and must be resisted. The consequence of equating religious experience with revelation was to blur the boundary between holy God and sinful humanity. God’s relation to humanity is circumvented, thereby denying his revelation. Humanity is deified, while God is humanized.120 Hartenstein used Barth’s language to describe religion as “the highest and purest of all human possibilities, namely, to get an impression of God’s revelation.”121 Religion was an obstacle that separated humanity from God while at the same time entangled with and unable to overcome the world. He wrote, In his religion, man seeks to escape sin through sacrifice and prayer, through asceticism and immersion. But it is precisely through this that he is revealed in all his guilt. Whoever speaks religion speaks pious humanity, pious personal experience, and self-redemption. It is precisely in religion that the attempt of the man who is punished by God’s sentence of death dares to seize God directly, to bridge the distance between God and man from below. “Eritis sicut Deus” (You will be like God), the deification of man, the deepest sin of our nature arises precisely in religion.122

Religion was the attempt from below to attain God and be judged blameless. However, this fell short of God’s authentic revelation. Instead, religion had the opposite effect in that it revealed the sin of humanity. It was only because of revelation that religion could be confronted and found lacking. Hartenstein reiterated the contrast between religion and revelation in a later article, “The Theology of the Word and Missions.” Whereas his first article stood entirely in the shadow of Barth’s Romans, his references to

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Barth in this later work were less overt; there is only one footnote referring to him. Nevertheless, the claims made here by Hartenstein very much adopted Barth’s views as a part of his own. Hartenstein attempted to “remove [revelation] beyond human grasp,” away from the human experience of religion, writing, “Revelation must also be differentiated from all that we can call religious experience, from subjective empiricism. ‘Christ in us,’ the mystic union with the primary cause of all, the relations of the soul to God without mediator, the close and direct vision of God in the inward man—all this is not revelation but religion.”123 He equated religion with “heathenism,” that is, “the great attempt of mankind to get united again (re-ligio) with God by his own effort . . . without any humble acknowledgment of the Fall.”124 Religion attempted to do what was meant to be accomplished only by God’s revelation. For Hartenstein, the revelation of God was the solution to the problem of religion. According to him, “True revelation is only there where God himself creates it through his Spirit and can only be understood as a miracle, a personal act of God.”125 The transcendent character of revelation removed the barrier created by religion between God and humanity and proclaimed a message of grace. Revelation completed the impression left by religion by unveiling what was lacking, which was Christ. Hartenstein wrote, Christ is the fulfilment of what the religions of the earth in reality stand for. . . . This recognition of Him shows them clearly that their former religion was utterly poor and needy, something revealing not their wealth but their poverty, and a crying out for God. . . . Men recognize that they have formerly possessed only caricatures of the truth; they had a dim perception of it, and perhaps saw one side of it—but only saw truth itself when they became captured by Christ.126

Although Hartenstein was broadly speaking of religion, his critique was especially poignant toward Christianity, which he considered no different from the rest of the world religions. He wrote, “Christ, the revelation of God, is opposed to all religions, including Christianity, as judgment and truth, as answer and salvation.”127 His indictment of religion was decisive and wide-reaching: “No religion can be said to be nearer to Christ than any other, but on the other hand none is farther from Him than another. It is therefore of not much use to speak of ‘elements of truth’ in other religions, because the very recognition that in Christ alone is God’s truth revealed only comes to a man through a full and complete judgment passed on the old religions.”128 In other words, genuine revelation stood as a judgment against religion in its attempt to elevate the human experience by revealing the deficiencies of religion, including its inability to draw humanity toward God. Revelation was fundamentally different from religion, including Christianity, because it was a work of God from above.



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In light of these realities, Hartenstein offered some implications for mission. He maintained that the task of mission should not be conflated with the spreading of Christianity, and the notion of Christianity as the highest of all religions should be abandoned. He portrayed various slogans made famous by influential missionary publications as misguided by stating, Missions cannot be “the spreading of Christianity,” the spreading, that is, of western religious and ecclesiastical forms, but a proclaiming of the word of God which is always calling afresh for a decision for or against Christ. Missions, again, cannot be “the evangelization of the world in this generation,” but only a witness of the word of God which is always being accepted by one and rejected by another. Missions cannot be “the sharing of the social and cultural benefits of the West,” for the whole of Christian culture stands at a period of terrible crisis, every section of it under judgment by God. Missions cannot be “preaching the social gospel” in order to bring in a new social and political world order.129

Instead, the message of Christ was a message to end all religions. It was “nothing but a witness to the plight of all religions before God.”130 Mission was the message of the end of religion and the beginning of revelation. Hartenstein further rejected the notion of an “ultimate essence of religion” standing behind the world religions, and any missionary attempts to bridge the gap between religion and Christ would be futile. In this way, Hartenstein agreed with Barth’s thesis regarding the dialectic between religion and revelation.131 It is crucial to note at this point that Hartenstein’s view of Christianity was no different from his view of other world religions. Instead, Christianity stood amongst the world’s religions and thereby faced the same crisis that religion encountered in revelation. Thus, Hartenstein juxtaposed revelation from Christianity between the Word of God and religion. He reiterated this point when he wrote, “The Word of God is no religious assertion, but stands over against all religious words as the Revelation of God.”132 Hartenstein collectively took the religions of the world as the subject of his investigation and Christ as the revelation of God was the measure by which religion was understood. According to Hartenstein, “It is only from revelation that the comprehensive concept of paganism outside of Christ become clear, and only from revelation do we receive from Christ certain norms for it. Therefore, an ‘evangelical science of religions’ can only be given as a concrete critique of all religions from the point of view of Christ.”133 In this much, Hartenstein stood in agreement with Barth. He further confirmed this agreement when he stated, In this rebellion and apostasy the nations prove that they cannot get away from God and the entire world of the religions, the “idolatry of the nations”

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(Brunner), becomes a testimony to a relationship with God, even if this is a wrong relationship. In all falsehood they ask for truth, in their flight they flee toward the “unknown God.” This twofold statement makes it clear that the mystery of the revelation of Christ contains both the end of and the judgement on all religions and the offer of grace to the world of the religions, which signifies its end as much as it signifies the beginning of the church, the rule of the true God, pointing to the fulfillment in the coming kingdom of God.134

Like Barth, Hartenstein saw religion as a means to draw people toward God by recognizing the need for God’s grace. According to Schwarz, “Hartenstein shares Barth’s basic theological concern to inquire after the meaning of religion and the religions in the light of the Christian revelation. Christ as the ‘crisis of all religion’ from the perspective of the justification of the sinner, and revelation as the ‘dissolution of religion’ form the central reference point in the theology of Barth, Brunner, and Hartenstein.”135 Revelation could not be replaced by religion. Instead, revelation stood as the crisis, judgment, and fulfillment of religion. However, the divergence between Hartenstein and Barth became apparent in their understandings of the “concrete historical reality” of religion when Hartenstein concluded that Barth’s “harsh dualism between religion and revelation was theologically problematic from the standpoint of the incarnation.”136 Hartenstein’s understanding of religion became more nuanced in his attempt toward an “evangelical science of religions,” and his negative disposition began to recede in favor of a more accommodating role toward religion with the missionary task. He highlighted the importance of the study of religions, claiming that it allowed for a clearer understanding of the reality of the world and sober self-understanding of Christianity in particular. He wrote, The science of comparative religion has . . . fostered a spirit of fairness and honesty toward non-Christian religions, and has undermined all superiority feeling of our own religion. It has opened our eyes to the stagnation and petrification of our own spiritual life as well as to the common religious consciousness of men. We have gained a much clearer idea of our religion as having much in common with others, and have seen on the other side the religions of the world in their deep experiences and high aspirations. It has helped therefore to a clear theological self-criticism and repentance, and to differentiate quite clearly between the human structure of the Christian religion on the one side and on the other its uniqueness and the incomparable content of God’s revelation in Christ.137

For Hartenstein, religion became the necessary hermeneutical tool for understanding the world and its various cultures. Where religion was once a barrier that one needed to overcome, it now became the doorway to accessing



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civilizations and cultures. Hartenstein appealed to the Bible for his understanding of the place of religion, stating, The world of human beings is, according to the biblical realism, a world of nations, of types characterized by language, history, blood and race. But at the same time these nations are gentiles or heathen, terms which clearly state that these nations have a religious center and that this center is based upon religious facets outside the assembly of God, beyond the limits of God’s people. It is a very remarkable fact that the Bible speaks about the world of religions, of the goyyim, in this double sense as nations and heathen simultaneously.138

Just as with language or culture, religion also became an essential part of the fabric of humanity, which was tied from the beginning to the order of creation. Hartenstein understood Genesis 2:15 as God’s commission to humanity to build, cultivate, and maintain the created order. He wrote, In the commission to build and cultivate there lies implicit all the creative and formative capacity that is given to man, from the simplest to the highest level. In the word as to maintenance, however, there is given to all building a sacred boundary: it is to happen only in accordance with the lines, powers and aims ordained by God Himself.139

Civilization and religion respectively and inseparably shared the dual roles of cultivation and maintenance. If one was to be involved in the missionary task, then religion must not be seen as something to be overcome, but rather it must be understood. The role of maintenance, which belonged to religion, was better understood in Hartenstein’s espousal of the fall in Genesis 3 and beyond. To him, the fall meant a disruption of the unity between cultivation and maintenance. Humanity had not maintained the proper relationship between themselves and God. Hartenstein wrote, Man has not maintained an obedient attitude towards God, but has rather set himself up autonomously in revolt against God and snatches freedom to himself, in defiance against his Lord and in flight from his Creator. He has not maintained the attitude of faith and obedience, and therefore has not maintained that of love and service towards his neighbour either (Gen. iv.). He has not maintained the sacred boundary between creature and Creator, and therefore has not maintained that between men and spirits (Gen. vi.). He has not maintained the ordinances of neighbourhood and the “world Kingdom,” but set to work to build “a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven” (Gen. xi.).140

The work of religion was to counteract the failure to maintain God’s rightful place as Lord and humanity’s obedience toward him. Within the narrative of

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creation and fall, Hartenstein formulated his understanding of the role of civilization, culture, and religion to respectively build, cultivate, and maintain. Summarizing this in two points, Hartenstein first argued, “God, in His Will as Creator, has indissolubly bound up the religious attitude of faith in Him and obedience towards Him with the work of civilisation. To maintain that which is given by God, in order to build and cultivate upon earth: that is the original Will of God.”141 In other words, religion was bound up in God’s created order to maintain humanity’s proper relationship with Him. In addition, Hartenstein stated, “The nations of the earth have broken down the primeval ordinances, by forsaking the attitude of faith towards God, and thereby having given an antitheistic character to all their cultural striving.”142 In other words, because of the fall, the world’s religions had taken a posture against God. The task of mission focused on addressing this antagonism of religion in light of God’s revelation. Religion was not to be disregarded entirely but should be “adapted” and redeemed for the sake of the kingdom. For Hartenstein, the emphasis was on “the revelatory quality in all religions, the proof of God’s revelatory activity in the realm of the religions.”143 He attempted to bridge the transcendence of revelation with the cultural realities of the world’s peoples and civilizations by affirming both the revolutionary power of the gospel and the church’s task of adapting that gospel to a world of religion. For him, Christ was the revolutionary power of the gospel that broke up the world and gave it new meaning. However, he also believed it was necessary to adapt and accommodate the gospel to culture in order to reach the civilizations of the world because “the language and custom, the nationality and individuality of the peoples are also God-given ordinances which must be ‘maintained,’ and to which the Church has to adapt itself in a definite way.”144 Hartenstein provided two examples of this from contemporary missionary practices. He first looked at the Catholic attempts at accommodation in which maintained religious traditions even as their images and symbols were substituted for Christian ones. According to Hartenstein, “The world of heathen religions and civilisations is equivalent to the ‘invisible Church,’ in which Christ is nevertheless at work in a wealth of symbols, sacrifices, prayers and names for God.”145 In other words, within the world religions, there was already an element of God’s presence, though it is shadowed by the veil of unknowing. The task of mission then was to bring the invisible Church, “this wide zone in which Christ is only shadowily known, and honoured in all kinds of symbols,”146 into the light as the visible Church. Hartenstein’s second example primarily relied on the works of Bruno Gutmann and his understanding of the unconditional sonship of all of God’s created people. Gutmann’s anthropology and missiology were informed by his missionary experience among the Chagga people in Africa, who were



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not yet affected by modern civilization. Here, the values of community and kinship were still highly regarded in contrast to the individualism of Western societies. For Gutmann, these “primordial ties” of clan, neighborhood, and age group were “the absolute basis of true Christian life,” qualities where Christ was truly received and where humanity could flourish.147 According to Hartenstein, “Gutmann’s fundamental thought is thus the idea that God has so created and maintained the natural ordinances, that the Christian ordinances, sonship of God and Christian community, are not only applied to them but that both are so indispensable for one another that really living community arises only where the Body of Christ and the body of the people are in a mysterious way bound up with one another.”148 In this case, it was the Church that needed to learn from the “primeval ordinances” found across civilizations untouched by modern secularism. It should be noted that Hartenstein did not attempt here to say that the world religions should be accepted as they were. Schuster points out that Hartenstein rejected both the “evolutionary” model of religion, where Christianity was seen as the “most developed religion,” as well as the “continuity” model, where “other religions can be seen as [the] preliminary stage for the Christian ‘revelation religion.’”149 However, Hartenstein also opposed Barth’s categorical rejection of religion because he understood humanity as dialectical in nature. Hartenstein based this dialectic on his reading of Scripture, writing, Scripture testifies to paganism as a question and reference to the living God, as a sign and witness of the “original revelation” (Acts 14; 17; Rom. 1:19 ff.; Rom. 2:14 ff.). Scripture justifies this question through God’s covenant with all peoples and the preservation of the Gentiles under God’s patience towards Christ (Gen 8 and 9; Rom 3). We therefore have both these points to say from the Scriptures: that the religions of the Gentiles are “testimony of the—albeit perverse—relationship with God” (Brunner); they testify that the peoples do not get away from God, but in all falsehood always ask for the truth. And the other: that the history of the religions is rebellion and apostasy against God, more sharply said deification of the creature (man and nature) and humanization of God (in image and idea). Only in this dialectical double statement it becomes understandable that the mystery of Christ’s revelation contains both: the end and judgment of all religions (Rom. 1–3) and the offer of grace to the world of religions (Rom. 3; above all Eph. 3).150

Schuster expresses Hartenstein’s views in this way: “Religions are both at the same time: (1) an expression of the universal revelation of God to humankind as his creation, and (2) human efforts to grasp ‘the totality of life, time and eternity, death and life, God and world.’”151 The implication was that religion should not be discarded as such but should be reached by the gospel,

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expressed in ways that adapt and accommodate to the target culture. By doing so, “the whole realm of customs and civilisation is fundamentally changed,” and “the natural and cultural ordinances can be brought back into harmony with the new community of the Church. . . . Religion and civilisation come one again into their original close relation.”152 Flett interprets this by stating, “The nature of the missionary task demands some ‘mysterious’ account of God’s working through these given [religious] conduits.”153 In other words, the created order must be taken into account with religion in mind when considering the mode and process that takes place in the world by revelation. Hartenstein on Eschatology Eschatology also played a significant role in the development of Hartenstein’s understanding of mission. According to Peter Beyerhaus, eschatology was one of the critical hermeneutics that informed his views.154 In Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, Hartenstein understood that mission took place in the context of an “eschatological dualism” where the old and new worlds intersected with each other. The old world was the fallen world of Adam that defined and determined the history of humanity. On the other side was the new world of the kingdom of God marked by the resurrection and redemption, where all things found their presupposition and origin in the living God. Hartenstein wrote, “This new world is coming. It does not stand rigidly opposed to the old one that is passing away. Rather, this eternity wants to swallow up our age, to transform it, to make it new. From this point, where it is announced that the kingdom of God is near, we have to speak of God.”155 Mission occurred at this intersection between the fallen world and the one that was to come. Thus, the eschaton collapsed the dualism between the realities of God and the world. The emphasis on God’s judgment was central to Hartenstein’s early conception of eschatology. As the creator of the world, God was also the crisis and judgment over the world. The role of mission was to bear witness to this judgment. Hartenstein appropriated Barth’s emphasis on the holy otherness of the “unknown God . . . [who] lives in unapproachable light” to demonstrate the “qualitative difference between God and humanity.”156 In this difference, humanity was consigned to a world of death and judgment from which no person was free. For Hartenstein, this was what connected Christians to non-Christians.157 Then, the missionary task was to “bear witness to the judgment, to the end of this world and its people,” for God was “the great turning point from dualism to the unity of eternity, from the slavery of man to the glorious freedom of the children of God.”158



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Eschatology continued to be foundational in Hartenstein’s understanding of mission in “Theology of the Word.” Here, he described mission’s primary concern as the eschatological presence of Christ in the world. He wrote, Missionary work is not primarily concerned with human beings but with God’s coming to His world. God, who came in Christ; God, who desires ever to come anew, through His word; God, who will one day come as King—this God in His yearning over the world calls men to Him. Missionary work is carried on in the period between the Crucifixion and the Second Advent, with sure faith in Him who came, and with hope fixed on Him who is to come. The est [what is] and the erit [what will be] are inseparably united.159

The task of mission was the witness to the coming kingdom of God, which encompassed the witness to God’s judgment. However, Hartenstein also expanded this role to include the teaching, healing, and gathering of people into the kingdom. Mission did not seek to expand the church, for it was seen as a temporary provision established in the world but no longer had a place in the eschaton. Hartenstein’s early theology provided several implications for mission. First, he argued, “Mission cannot be defined otherwise than as the proclamation of the gospel that God became man.”160 Here, mission was a continuation of God’s message of the revealed Word through the witness of the believer. On the one hand, it was God who initiated the revealing, and on the other, it was the believer who raised the “attention and respect among the people to the Word and wonderful deeds of God.”161 It was “the Lord who speaks [that] drives mission, not us, but also not without us.”162 According to Hartenstein, God’s revelatory message was transmitted via the believer into the world as the continuation of the life of Christ. As such, the goal of mission was to announce the coming of the kingdom of God. Hartenstein contrasted this kingdom against the advancement of the world of humanity and its ideals. God’s coming kingdom contradicted human logic and values by rejecting worldly powers and receiving Jesus Christ as the subject of revelation. Mission, then, was the proclamation of that revelation, Christ the crucified and resurrected Lord. This understanding of mission had subsequent implications for understanding Christianity as a religion. According to Hartenstein, “We have nothing more to bring than this Word. That is why we speak of the gospel and not Christian culture.”163 He attempted to distinguish between that which was an authentic message from God and that which was derived from religious constructs. One of Barth’s contributions toward mission, for Hartenstein, was the identification of Christendom as a religion and its captivity to Western

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culture. Reflecting on the failures of Christian missions and the recent experiences of the Great War, Hartenstein stated, In recent years, we have learned to think differently about the superiority of Western culture. Every heathen hits us back with our own words. All cultures seek to lead their people to a higher plane of life and seek to stage a grand plan to reform the world. But all culture and all reform are subject to the law of sin and death. But the Word from the cross proclaims the salvation of this lost world. The world does need to be taken up to higher planes, but it needs to be saved. The Word of the savior of the world, the rescuer of the lost, the redeemer of sinners, the life of the dying—the Word of the resurrection of the dead must be proclaimed.164

Christian missions under colonialism failed to live up to the message of its self-proclaimed enlightenment. As such, Hartenstein argued that “the true revelation of God becomes a crisis for all theology and the church; it becomes an ‘attack on Christendom.’”165 Instead, Christianity as a religion was to be rejected to make space for the revelation of Christ. The revealed Christ was the corrective against religion. Hartenstein warned against “any attempt to make the gospel accessible to other religions by shaping Christ until he fits . . . into their attempts and longings.”166 Christ was not subject to the patterns of religion, including Christianity, but spoke to it, rebuked it, judged it, and overcame it. In the end, it was because of grace that God made himself known to humanity. Eventually, Hartenstein began to move away from Barth when he felt that Barth’s eschatology discounted the historical and experiential realities of faith. According to Schwarz, “Hartenstein’s eschatological perspective with its emphasis on the future aspects of salvation history came to stand in increasingly sharp contrast to the nonhistorical and transhistorical eschatology of Barth’s Commentary on Romans.”167 Returning to the Pietistic heritage that he had briefly set aside, Hartenstein found a rich theological heritage in the salvation-historical (Heilsgeschichte) hermeneutic.168 Advocates of this hermeneutical and theological movement—among them being Johann Albrecht Bengel and Oscar Cullman, both of whom greatly influenced Hartenstein’s theology—viewed the historical narratives attested in Scripture as God’s progressive revelation for his plan of salvation. According to Dale Hughes, the salvation-historical hermeneutic was to view the Bible as “the progressive unfolding of the divine plan for the salvation of man in a series of theologically interpreted historical events.”169 These events in salvation history were distinguished from world history in that the origins of the former were “supra-historical,”170 though the events in themselves were not. Hartenstein contrasted this supra-historical understanding of history against alternative



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historical-immanent eschatologies that interpreted history as a gauge to measure the progression of God’s work of salvation. According to the historicalimmanent view, the “process of salvation” was evaluated by “an increase of freedom, a sensitizing of consciences, an increase in internalized knowledge of God and in ethical praxis,” or by “the numerical growth of Christianity through conversions, the planting of congregations, and the propagation of churches.”171 In both cases, the progression of salvation was “empirically verifiable, based on the understanding that history itself serves as a means of revelation to a certain degree.”172 However, Hartenstein’s understanding of eschatology as salvation history understood the role of history in a different way. History was not how revelation was given, nor was it a measure for salvation, but rather it was the “framework” in which revelation occurred, and salvation was “not contingent on immanent events.”173 History bracketed the beginning and end of God’s plan for salvation, beginning with creation and ending with the return of Jesus Christ and the coming of the kingdom of God. For Hughes, the most significant implications of the salvation-historical hermeneutic are threefold: “God is at work in historical event,” “the purpose of God’s work is the establishment of the Kingdom of God,” and “the Kingdom of God has been inaugurated in Jesus of Nazareth.”174 The implication for Hartenstein was that the world existed within an inaugurated eschatological framework wherein the kingdom was not yet realized but was already secured through the work of Jesus Christ. Hartenstein’s later eschatology may be understood under this rubric of salvation history. Characterized as “missions with a focus on the end,” he appealed to Christ’s impending return as the basis of the church’s mission with a sense of urgency.175 Mission found its place between the interim period of the inauguration and consummation, between the resurrection and the parousia, specifically within the context of the witnessing church. Hartenstein asserted, “The cross and the Kingdom are the two acts of God between which the Lord ultimately wants nothing else and expects nothing else from His church than the obedient service of His servants, their unconditional faithfulness in calling and loving until the End.”176 Similarly, he wrote, “Mission is . . . the central salvific-historical meaning of the interim period between the Ascension and the Second Coming of the Lord. As a witness of the Gospel, it is the continuation of the line of salvation in the present day in response to the Parousia.”177 Mission was bracketed within the boundaries of an inaugurated eschatology. Thus, as Henning Wrogemann suggests, Hartenstein’s understanding of mission “takes place in the salvation-historical interim between the ‘already’ of the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ, and the ‘not yet’ of his return at the end of time.”178 Based on this understanding, Hartenstein came to three successive conclusions. First, mission and eschatology were indissolubly bound together.

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Mission was the “final sign of the coming Lord,”179 the “dam” that held back the final judgment of God. The interim period between the resurrection and the parousia was a significant marker for Hartenstein’s understanding of mission, for this was where God’s plan for salvation history took place. This insight led to Hartenstein’s second conclusion. He wrote, “Mission is the eschatological action of God, the implementation of his plan of salvation into the world of nations.”180 Mission was the fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation through the Word of God. Finally, as God’s instrument, mission was the “continuation of the apostolic ministry” that began with the first disciples and was shared with those who were witnesses to the plan of salvation. This meant that the church, as the “eschatological Community of the End,”181 bore the responsibility of apostolic witness. Hartenstein wrote, “It is precisely through missionary service to the peoples of the world that the church, as the Body of Christ, has the central task of bearing witness for the redemption of humanity, for the universal kingdom of God, which in its ultimate goal is none other than the homecoming of all creatures, for the restoration of the universe under the head of Christ.”182 For Hartenstein, it was through the church that mission ultimately took shape. CONCLUSION Attributing the missio Dei’s foundation to Karl Barth is untenable given the distance that Hartenstein’s theology moves away from its Barthian roots. However, the emergence of the missio Dei would not be possible without Barth and his break from the nineteenth-century German liberal theology. According to Bosch, “The rediscovery of the eschatological dimension in mission, mission as missio Dei, . . . the foundation of mission in the Trinity, and so forth, are all developments that would be difficult to imagine without the stimulus of Barth.”183 Nevertheless, if Barth’s imprints are to be found in subsequent theologies of mission, it is at best an “ad hoc appropriation of certain dialectical themes.”184 Barth’s theology as a whole was not adapted into Hartenstein’s theology of mission. This is evident in Hartenstein’s departure from Barth’s understanding of religion and eschatology even as Hartenstein attempts to maintain his concept of revelation. The problem with Hartenstein’s account of the missio Dei was its inclination toward anthropocentric thinking. This anthropocentrism was not limited only to him but also to many of his German contemporaries. According to Werner Ustorf, “The German missiologists’ theological maneuvering between a theological (grace, revelation, new creation, salvation) and an anthropological (nature, reality, creation or social orders, contact) point of departure produced missiological ambivalence (either-or theology) and ended



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with the victory of anthropology.”185 Hartenstein’s experiences in the mission field provided him a perspective that set him apart from Barth’s strict theologizing. According to Schwarz, Hartenstein felt that in the long run the sharply antithetical position of the early Barth toward anthropocentric thinking was too barren and one-dimensional. The rigid form of the “either-or” of Barthian logic insupportably curtailed the “historical and experiential [geschichtliche und seelische] reality” of faith so frequently disparaged by Barth. Barth’s ethical nihilism, which largely abandoned a material ethic, became a problem in the day-to-day reality of the mission field, where the question “What must we do?” in each new situation pressed for an answer.186

The theology of the missio Dei, its subsequent practices in mission, and the critiques raised against it ultimately reflect Hartenstein’s departure. Hartenstein’s affirmation of the revelatory role of religion further opens the possibility toward syncretism in mission, which Hendrik Kraemer defines as the “systematic attempt to combine, blend and reconcile inharmonious, even often conflicting, religious elements in a new, so-called synthesis.”187 Hartenstein recognized the danger of the Catholic attempts at accommodation and the Protestant attempts at inculturation as they demonstrated the potential for religions and cultures to set the parameters in which the gospel was proclaimed. He wrote, If the Jesuit Mission adapted the Mystery of the Gospel as closely as possible to the heathen world, Gutmann for his part recognizes in the primeval ordinances within heathen peoples first signs pointing towards Christianity. In the former, there is the danger of paganizing the Christian Church, in the latter, there are lines promising Christianisation of primeval ordinances.188

Nonethe​​​​​​​less, Hartenstein maintained the necessity of adapting the gospel to a given culture by locating revelatory qualities within it. Hartenstein’s focus on the end also predisposes mission toward anthropocentric thinking. By giving attention to a salvation-historical eschatology, what is emphasized is the importance of mission in the interim period between the ascension and the parousia in expectation of the arrival of God’s kingdom. The basis of mission then becomes determined by the urgency of Christ’s imminent return. What is more, the parousia becomes indissolubly linked to mission, where “the mission that has not yet been fulfilled is the only stopping power, the final barrier before the final judgment of God and the coming of the Lord.”189 As such, the church carries the responsibility to bear witness to the gospel during this interim period. Schwarz contends that this salvation-historical understanding “averts in principle any church-centered

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motivation for missions” and that the goal of mission is not the church but the kingdom of God.190 While this argument is valid to the extent that the church is no longer the object of mission as it was in Christendom, the church remains the subject and agent of mission during the interim period. In either case, Hartenstein’s theology of the missio Dei never escapes the anthropocentrism it so claims. It is ironic that Hartenstein’s theology of mission finds some historical roots in the Barthian crisis, given that Barth vehemently opposed the anthropocentrism of liberal theology. According to Flett, Hartenstein’s approach to mission “blinded [him] to any potential within Barth’s dogmatic framework for a thick theological account of mission.”191 In some ways, Hartenstein’s accommodating position validates Hoekendijk’s suspicion of churchism in favor of the God-world-church framework. Hartenstein’s theology likewise justifies Thangaraj’s critique of the missio Dei that leads to an alternative paradigm that defines mission according to the dialogue that takes place with the world. In the end, Richebächer’s observations of the missio Dei are also confirmed as a container where anyone can interpret it to suit their needs. More importantly, while Hartenstein gains specific themes from Barth, the resulting theology is incongruent with Barth’s theology as a whole. In light of the problems presented, reconstructing a theology of mission according to Barth’s trinitarianism provides a solution to these conflicts. A proper trinitarian view of mission addresses the church’s relationship with the world not by reordering the progression of revelation, as Hoekendijk or Thangaraj might suggest, but by reconceptualizing the church away from institutionalism to become a true relational community. By doing so, the missio Dei becomes concretely located in the church through Christ. This reconstruction is anticipated in the following chapters. NOTES 1. Peter J. Bellini, “Origins and Early Development of Missio Dei: A Missional Hermeneutic for Today,” in Missio Dei and the United States: Toward a Faithful United Methodist Witness, ed. M. Kathryn Armistead (Nashville: General Board of Higher Education and Ministry, The United Methodist Church, 2018), 7. 2. Evidence shows that while Hartenstein was familiar with Barth’s first edition of his Romans commentary—there is a brief quotation in Was Hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 5 (“auf Verheißung hin.” See Karl Barth, Der Römerbrief [Erste Fassung] 1919, vol. 16 of Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe, ed. Hermann Schmidt [Zürich, Theologischer Verlag, 1985], 367)—his theology of mission stems from Barth’s second edition of The Epistle to the Romans. For instance, Gerold Schwarz draws a connection between a 1925 lecture where Hartenstein describes Barth’s theology as a



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“sharp halt for all theology and piety” with reference to Barth’s “Halt!” in his second edition. See Gerold Schwarz, Mission, Gemeinde und Ökumene in der Theologie Karl Hartensteins(Stuttgart: Calwer-Verlag, 1980), 31; and Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, trans. Edwyn C. Hoskyns (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 331. In Was Hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 12–13, Hartenstein further quotes Barth’s second edition (“Genuine fellowship is grounded upon a negative: it is grounded upon what men lack” [Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 101]). However, in Hartenstein’s understanding of religion during his early period, Barth’s second edition of Romans shines through. Hartenstein describes religion as an “impression of God’s revelation,” a phrase frequently used by Barth in the second edition that is not found in the first. 3. Karl Barth, The Humanity of God (Atlanta: John Knox, 1960), 14. 4. David W. Congdon, “Dialectical Theology as Theology of Mission: Investigating the Origins of Karl Barth’s Break with Liberalism,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 16, no. 4 (October 2014): 390–413. 5. Bruce McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology: Its Genesis and Development, 1909–1936 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 244–45. 6. Wim A. Dreyer, “Karl Barth’s Römerbrief: A Turning Point in Protestant Theology,” Studia Historiae Ecclesiasticae 43, no. 3 (2017): 6. 7. Klyne Snodgrass, “The Gospel in Romans: A Theology of Revelation,” in Gospel in Paul: Studies on Corinthians, Galatians and Romans for Richard N. Longenecker, ed. L. Ann Jervis and Peter Richardson (Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic, 1994), 288. 8. Joseph Fitzmyer describes a characteristic of the gospel as “revelatory or apocalyptic,” thus, revelation is “the means whereby God’s salvific activity towards human beings is manifested.” He refers to 2 Cor 4:3–4, where the apostle Paul describes the gospel as veiled to the perishing. It is only through God’s revelation that the gospel is unveiled. See Joseph A. Fitzmyer, To Advance the Gospel: New Testament Studies (New York: Crossroad, 1981), 152–53. 9. Snodgrass (“Gospel in Romans,” 290) describes two aspects in which the gospel presents God’s revelation in its content and proclamation. He observes at least eight different occurrences of revelation as content and proclamation mentioned in Romans, including “revelation in creation (1.19–20); in the wrath of God against human sin throughout history (1.18); in the Jewish scriptures; in the death and resurrection of Jesus; in Paul’s conversion christophany; in the preaching of the gospel; in the activity of the Spirt in believers and in the church (8.16; 12.6; and 15.19); and in the revelation of judgment (2.5) and glory (8.18) at the eschaton” (298). In content, “revelation is understood . . . as an event” (301). That event, among many throughout history, is centered on Christ’s death and resurrection. It is in God’s involvement in the world that he makes himself known. Through Christ’s death on the cross, God’s righteousness is revealed. See Ernst Käsemann, New Testament Questions of Today (London: SCM, 1969), 168. God is for us (Θεὸς ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν) in his act of salvation, and so his revelation is also for us (Rom 8:31). Charles Cranfield suggests that within this simple phrase is the summary of the gospel (The Epistle to the Romans, vol. 1, International Critical Commentary [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975], 435). See also

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Ernst Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, ed. and trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), 247; and James D. G. Dunn, Romans 1–8, vol. 38A, Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas: Word, 1988), 500. God is further revealed in the proclamation of that event and its content. The content and proclamation of the gospel are, according to Snodgrass, two parts in “the larger framework of God’s revealing activity” in which “the words εὐαγγέλιον [euaggelion] and κήρυγμα [kerugma] can refer to either the activity of proclaiming or the content of the proclamation,” and thus cannot be separated from another (Snodgrass, “Gospel in Romans,” 299). Thus, he concludes, “Revelation does not merely bring the gospel; the gospel is revelation” (314). The content of the gospel and the proclamation of the gospel both reveal God’s purposes in the world. The implications for mission are profound, as Snodgrass suggests the missional import for revelation. It is clear from its content that the gospel reveals the saving knowledge of God. God’s revelation is not simply for the sake of the knowledge of him, but it is the saving knowledge “as it affects believers (εἰς ὑμᾶς)” (310). Consequently, humanity is called to respond to this saving knowledge. Snodgrass writes, “God works through the revelation announced in Paul’s gospel to establish people . . . [in order] to lead to obedience of faith” (296). Furthermore, “Revelation from God always is intended to produce righteousness in the lives of humans, and that is especially the case the revelation in Christ” (306). In other words, revelation has a missional purpose that demands the propagation of the gospel via its proclamation in order to bring all of humanity towards the obedience of God through faith because of what God has revealed. Paul’s understanding of mission and his missionary activities stem from his theology of revelation. Therefore, in the eyes of Paul, revelation is mission. 10. Ben Quash, “Revelation,” in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology, ed. John Webster, Kathryn Tanner, and Iain Torrance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 328. 11. Quash, “Revelation,” 332 (emphasis in the original). 12. Karl Barth, CD I/1 (Church Dogmatics, 4 vols., ed. G. W. Bromiley and Thomas F. Torrance [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1977]), 168. 13. Bruce L. McCormack, “Revelation and History in Transfoundationalist Perspective: Karl Barth’s Theological Epistemology in Conversation with the Schleiermacherian Tradition,” Journal of Religion 78, no. 1 (January 1998): 19. 14. Karl Barth, “Liberal Theology: Some Alternatives,” Hibbert Journal 59 (April 1961): 213, quoted in Thomas F. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction to His Early Theology 1910–1931 (London: T&T Clark, 1962), 33. 15. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 34. 16. McCormack, “Revelation and History,” 25. 17. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 56 (emphasis in the original). 18. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 29–30. 19. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 30 (emphasis in the original). 20. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 35.



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21. This is equally true for his two previous dogmatic attempts in Unterricht in der christlichen Religion (1924–1926), known in English as The Göttingen Dogmatics, and Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf (1927). 22. Karl Barth, “Untitled chapter,” in Revelation, ed. John Baillie and Hugh Martin (London: Faber and Faber, 1937), 45–46 (emphasis in the original). 23. Barth, “Untitled chapter,” 47. 24. Eberhard Busch, The Great Passion: An Introduction to Karl Barth’s Theology, ed. Darrell L. Guder and Judith J. Guder, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 42. 25. CD I/1, 137 (emphasis added). 26. CD I/1, 133. 27. CD I/1, 119. 28. Busch, Great Passion, 43. 29. CD I/1, 156. 30. CD I/1, 144. 31. CD I/1, 301. 32. Kenneth S. Kantzer, “The Christology of Karl Barth,” Asbury Seminarian 12, no. 2 (1958): 24. 33. Clifford J. Green, “Trinity and Christology in Bonhoeffer and Barth,” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 60, no. 1 (2006): 3. 34. CD I/1, 380. 35. Alan Torrance, “The Trinity,” in Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, ed. John Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 73. 36. CD I/1, 117. 37. Carl F. Starkloff, “Karl Barth on Religion: A Study for Christians in Mission,” Missiology 6, no. 4 (October 1978): 442. For instance, Starkloff suggests that Barth could speak to conversations surrounding the role of evangelism against the pattern of religious and cultural accommodation in modern missionary work. 38. Garrett Green suggests that Barth did not have a “theory of religion” before 1922. Rather, his engagement with the topic was a reaction to his theological opponents. Garrett Green, “Challenging the Religious Studies Canon: Karl Barth’s Theory of Religion,” Journal of Religion 75, no. 4 (October 1995): 475. 39. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 65. G. Green equates Barth’s use of “religion” with the Apostle Paul’s use of “law” as functional equivalents. See G. Green, “Challenging the Religious Studies Canon,” 475. 40. Joseph L. Mangina, Karl Barth: Theologian of Christian Witness (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004), 14. 41. Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God: The Cross of Christ as the Foundation and Criticism of Christian Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 27. 42. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 66. 43. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 229 and 241. 44. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 229–30. 45. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 262. 46. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 242. 47. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 246.

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48. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 269. 49. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 238. 50. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 269. 51. Tom Greggs, Theology against Religion: Constructive Dialogues with Bonhoeffer and Barth (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 19. 52. Karl Barth, The Göttingen Dogmatics: Instruction in the Christian Religion, vol. 1, ed. Hannelotte Reiffen, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991), 61. 53. Barth, Göttingen Dogmatics, 1:61. 54. G. Green, “Challenging the Religious Studies Canon,” 477. 55. CD I/2, 280. 56. G. Green (“Challenging the Religious Studies Canon,” 476) depicts religion and revelation in Romans as an either-or, a view which he claims Barth later rejects. 57. CD I/2, 283–84. 58. Greggs, Theology against Religion, 24. 59. CD I/2, 294–95. 60. CD I/2, 295–96. 61. G. Green, “Challenging the Religious Studies Canon,” 479. 62. David J. Bosch, Witness to the World: The Christian Mission in Theological Perspective (Atlanta: John Knox, 1980), 164–65. 63. Bosch, Witness to the World, 165. 64. Karl Barth, Der Römerbrief (Zweite Fassung) 1922, vol. 47 of Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe, ed. Cornelis van der Kooi and Katja Tolstaja (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2010), 430. Cf. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 314. In the English edition, Hoskyns translates this as a “thoroughgoing” eschatology, so in other words, a consistent eschatology. However, it is not conclusive that this accurately characterizes Barth’s interpretations. While McCormack suggests a shift in Barth’s thinking from a process eschatology to a consistent eschatology between the first and second editions of Romans, Dale Dawson sees no dogmatic justification for this conclusion. Furthermore, Moltmann juxtaposes Barth against Schweitzer, a chief proponent of the consistent view. Therefore, a broader translation is preferred here. For instance, Moltmann translates this phrase as “altogether and unreservedly eschatology.” Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope: On the Ground and the Implications of a Christian Eschatology (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 39. See also Robert Dale Dawson, The Resurrection in Karl Barth (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2007), 30. 65. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 78–79. 66. McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, 253. 67. Schwarz, Mission, Gemeinde und Ökumene, 53. 68. Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 39–40. 69. Karl Barth, Karl Barth’s Table Talks, ed. John D. Godsey (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1963), 45. 70. CD III/1, 78. 71. Garrett Green, “Myth, History, and Imagination: The Creation Narratives in Bible and Theology,” Horizons in Biblical Theology 12, no. 2 (December 1990): 27.



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72. Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Introduction to the Theology of Karl Barth (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001), 112. 73. G. Green, “Myth, History, and Imagination,” 27. This understanding is reinforced in Karl Barth, “An Exegetical Study of Matthew 28:16–20,” in The Theology of the Christian Mission, ed. Gerald H. Anderson (Nashville: Abingdon, 1961), 55–71. Barth describes the Easter account as a “real event in space and time, and not just some thought or idea” (56). Jesus’s postresurrection encounter with his disciples is related to the events of Jewish history and beyond. Therefore, he writes, “To speak here of a ‘myth’ would be to confuse categories. . . . These narratives are recounted not in the style of history but, like the story of creation, in the style of historical saga” (56–57). 74. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 30. 75. Barth, Römerbrief, 175. Here, I rely on Kuo-An Wu’s translation in “The Concept of History in the Theology of Karl Barth” (PhD thesis, Edinburgh, University of Edinburgh, 2011), 69. 76. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 30. 77. McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, 253. 78. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 79. 79. Schwarz, Mission, Gemeinde und Ökumene, 54. 80. Schwarz, Mission, Gemeinde und Ökumene, 53. 81. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 79. 82. See Barth, preface to the sixth edition of Epistle to the Romans, 25. 83. John C. McDowell, Hope in Barth’s Eschatology: Interrogations and Transformations beyond Tragedy (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2000), 97. 84. Cf. McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, 327. 85. McDowell, Hope in Barth’s Eschatology, 98. 86. Cf. McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology, 328. 87. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 139. 88. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 79. 89. T. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction, 142. 90. CD I/1, 142–43. 91. Cf. Daniel L. Migliore, “Karl Barth’s First Lectures in Dogmatics: Instruction in the Christian Religion,” in Göttingen Dogmatics, 1:lviii. 92. Flett, Witness of God, 125. 93. Flett, Witness of God, 101–7. 94. Werner Elert, Morphologie des Luthertums, vol. 1 (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1932), 282, quoted in Hans-Werner Gensichen, “German Protestant Missions,” in Missionary Ideologies in the Imperialist Era: 1880–1920, ed. Torben Christensen and William R. Hutchison (Aarhus: Aros, 1982), 188. 95. Karl Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths der Mission zu sagen? (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1928), 4. 96. Karl Barth, The Resurrection of the Dead, trans. H. J. Stenning (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2003), 26. Hartenstein’s early writings borrow this phrase from Barth’s original German text, Die Auferstehung Der Toten (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1924), 10. See Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 3; and Karl

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Hartenstein, “Theology of The Wordand Missions,” IRM 20, no. 2 (April 1931): 210–27. 97. Flett, Witness of God, 130. 98. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 4. 99. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 126. 100. Flett, Witness of God, 126. 101. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 3. 102. Hartenstein, Die Mission als theologisches Problem, 23. 103. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein: Mission with a Focus on the End,” Mission Studies 19, no. 1 (2002): 76. 104. Bosch, Witness to the World, 175. 105. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 4. 106. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 213. 107. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 8. 108. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 9. 109. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 4. 110. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 212. 111. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 212. 112. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 6–7. 113. Gustave Gérard Kullman, “Karl Barth and the Barthian Movement,” Anglican Theological Review 10, no. 2 (October 1927): 129. 114. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 4. 115. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 19. Cf. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 30. 116. Karl Hartenstein, “The Biblical View of Religion,” in The Authority of the Faith (New York: International Missionary Council, 1939), 119. 117. Hartenstein, Die Mission als theologisches Problem, 24. 118. Hartenstein, Die Mission als theologisches Problem, 22. 119. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 7. 120. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein,” 62. 121. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 15 (emphasis added). 122. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 15. 123. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 213. 124. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 215. 125. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 5. 126. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 223. 127. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 16. 128. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 223–224. 129. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 211. Cf. John R. Mott, The Evangelization of the World in This Generation (New York: SVM, 1904); and Ozora S. Davis, Preaching the Social Gospel (New York: Revell, 1922). 130. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 16. 131. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 18. Hartenstein summarizes the salient points he draws from Barth, saying, “We have a threefold lesson from Barth’s fight against the religionistic conception of God. First, Christianity as a



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religion alongside other religions must be abandoned. Second, the cross of Christ reveals the essence of religion as unredeemed condition of humanity. And third, as the revelation of God, [Christ] stands before all religions as the last judgment and final fulfillment.” 132. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” Student World 28, no. 4 (1935): 309. 133. Karl Hartenstein, “Religion und Offenbarung,” in Calwer Kirchenlexikon: Kirchlich-Theologisches Handwörterbuch, vol. 2 (Stuttgart: Calwer Vereinsbuchhandlung, 1941), 709. 134. Karl Hartenstein, “Die Kirche und die Religionen,” EMZ 1 (1940): 16, quoted in Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 128–29. 135. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 129. 136. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 129. 137. Hartenstein, “Biblical View of Religion,” 122. 138. Hartenstein, “Biblical View of Religion,” 121. 139. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 310. 140. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 310. 141. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 313. 142. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 313. 143. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 129. 144. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 318. 145. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 319. 146. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 319. 147. Ernst Jäschke, “Bruno Gutmann’s Legacy,” Occasional Bulletin of Missionary Research 4, no. 4 (October 1980): 166. 148. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 321. 149. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein,” 63. 150. Hartenstein, “Religion und Offenbarung,” 709. Here, he quotes Emil Brunner, “Die Christusbotschaft im Kampf mit den Religionen,” Evangelisches Missions-Magazin 75 (1931). 151. Schuster, “Karl Hartenstein,” 63. 152. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 314–15. 153. Flett, Witness of God, 129. 154. Peter Beyerhaus, “Hartensteins Sicht der nichtchristlichen Religionen,” in Karl Hartenstein: Leben in weltweitem Horizont, ed. Fritz Lamparter (Bonn: Verlag für Kultur und Wissenschaft, 1995), 62–67. 155. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 12. 156. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 12. Barth’s account of the unknown God living in unapproachable light is regularly used in the context of the resurrection. E.g., Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 35, 204, and 288. 157. Cf. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 100–101. 158. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 13. 159. Hartenstein, “Theology of the Word,” 214–15. 160. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 9. 161. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 10. 162. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 11.

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163. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 10. 164. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 10–11. 165. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 9. 166. Hartenstein, Was hat die Theologie Karl Barths, 22. 167. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 126. 168. John Newport translates the term as “holy” or “redemptive” history. See John P. Newport, “Biblical Interpretation and Eschatological Holy-History,” Southwestern Journal of Theology 4, no. 1 (October 1961): 90. 169. H. Dale Hughes, “Salvation-History as Hermeneutic,” Evangelical Quarterly 48 (June 1976): 82. 170. Newport, “Biblical Interpretation,” 89. 171. Henning Wrogemann, Intercultural Theology, trans. Karl E. Böhmer, vol. 2, Theologies of Mission (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2018), 49. 172. Wrogemann, Intercultural Theology, 2:52. 173. Wrogemann, Intercultural Theology, 2:52. 174. Hughes, “Salvation-History as Hermeneutic,” 83. 175. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 127. 176. Karl Hartenstein, “Krisis der Mission?” Die Furche 17 (1931): 207, quoted in Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 127. 177. Karl Hartenstein, “Zur Neubesinnung über das Wesen der Mission,” in Deutsche Evangelische Weltmission Jahrbuch 1951, ed. Walter Freytag (Hamburg: Verlag der Deutschen Evangelischen Missions-Hilfe, 1951), 18. 178. Wrogemann, Intercultural Theology, 2:51. 179. Hartenstein, “Zur Neubessinung,” 19. 180. Hartenstein, “Zur Neubessinung,” 19. 181. Karl Hartenstein, “The Third Way: An Interpretation and Criticism of Amsterdam,” IRM 38, no. 149 (January 1949): 78. 182. Hartenstein, “Zur Neubessinung,” 24. 183. Bosch, Witness to the World, 167. 184. Flett, Witness of God, 121. 185. Ustorf, Sailing on the Next Tide, 24. 186. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 126. 187. Hendrik Kraemer, “Syncretism as a Religious and a Missionary Problem,” IRM 43, no. 3 (July 1954): 256. 188. Hartenstein, “Adaptation or Revolution,” 321. 189. Hartenstein, “Zur Neubessinung,” 19. 190. Schwarz, “Legacy of Karl Hartenstein,” 127. 191. Flett, Witness of God, 121–22.

Chapter 3

Karl Barth and the Mission of Revelation

Having investigated the problem of the missio Dei in its history and theology, we now turn to reconstruct a theology of mission, beginning with a more faithful reading of Karl Barth’s theology. Though Barth is considered the “decisive Protestant missiologist in this generation,” he is often regarded in theological circles as having little to say about mission. This error in judgment is understandable, considering that the amount of space given to address mission in its traditional sense directly is only a fraction of his voluminous works of the Church Dogmatics. Waldron Scott observes that only four and a half pages are allocated to the matter. This observation is apt if one refers to mission as the church’s activity as witnessed in history. However, Barth has arguably a great deal more to say toward mission and its theology, for “the theme of mission permeates his thought.”1 This chapter seeks to develop a theology of mission grounded in a more faithful reading of Barth’s doctrine of the Word of God. To understand his contributions to the conversations of mission theology, one must begin where all of Barth’s thoughts begin—that is, with his understanding of revelation. This doctrine serves as the point of departure for the whole of his theology.2 Revelation was where Hartenstein found fruitful soil in developing his theology of the missio Dei, even if he ultimately went down a path that eventually diverged from Barth’s conclusions. Barth’s theology of revelation is the foundation of his theological method, and so its understanding is crucial to the rest of Barth’s thoughts. What is more, his theology may be described in essence as missional. David Congdon also supports Scott’s assertion that mission permeates Barth’s theology. Congdon argues that Barth’s whole theological enterprise derives from a missionary consciousness as a reaction against the German intellectuals’ appropriation of mission to justify military aggression in the first World War. For this reason, it is helpful to read Barth through the lens of mission, first by examining Barth’s understanding of mission and, 83

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second, by investigating the relevance of his trinitarian doctrine of revelation to the theology of mission. The first part of this chapter presents Barth’s views on mission by bringing attention to three key moments in his writings. Mission has been a chief concern throughout his career, beginning with The Epistle to the Romans and culminating in his Church Dogmatics. The chapter begins by interpreting Barth’s description of revelation in these texts, along with his most direct address presented at the 1932 Brandenburg Missionary Conference regarding the topic, “Die Theologie und die Mission in der Gegenwart” (Theology and Mission in the Present Situation), paying special concern to his theology of mission. The second section proceeds to construct a trinitarian theology of mission according to Barth’s terms. Classic theologies of mission have been organized around anthropological and ecclesiological foundations. Instead, in order to ground mission in the being of God, one must locate it under a framework of revelation as a doctrine of the Trinity. Barth provides the tools necessary to do so with his understanding of God as the one who reveals himself through himself as revealer, revelation, and revealedness. So, this construction demonstrates a commitment to Barth’s theology of mission in contrast to the ways where Hartenstein’s theology failed to do so. BARTH’S UNDERSTANDING OF MISSION The relevance of Barth’s theology toward mission has received some attention mainly because Hartenstein’s theology of the missio Dei relies on this notion. However, this topic is an area of neglect for both mission studies and Barth studies. In recent scholarship, there has been an increase in the volume of literature investigating his contributions toward mission.3 Of these studies, one clear theme emerges—that is, the mission of the church. The topic of mission in Barth studies is often subordinated under his ecclesiology. Hanna Reichel identifies four ways the term “mission” is applied to Barth: materially, formally, literally, and theologically.4 In most cases, the examination of Barth’s theology of mission has revolved around the first three. For example, many scholars, including Rossel and Scott, point to IV/3.2 §72 of his Church Dogmatics, “The Holy Spirit and the Sending of the Christian Community,” as the primary source of his attempt to address mission. However, Barth’s grasp of its significance begins at the onset of his career, beginning with Romans, his Brandenburg missionary address, as well as the entire corpus of the Church Dogmatics. This section examines these three critical moments in Barth’s writings in order to form a sketch of his understanding of mission.

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Mission in The Epistle to the Romans The topic of mission may get lost among the more prominent conversations in The Epistle to the Romans, such as revelation, history, and religion. Though it does not invalidate any previous analyses, overlooking this missional aspect misses the text’s overarching thrust and purpose. As stated earlier, the occasion for writing Romans was spurred by Barth’s “missionary consciousness” against Germany’s justification on missionary grounds of its ongoing war efforts. For this reason, it is necessary to read the book against this backdrop. The theme of mission was established at the onset of the text as it related to Christ’s resurrection, salvation, and the grace required therein to hear its message. Barth’s understanding of the gospel hinged on the fact that the resurrection was God’s self-revelation to humanity.5 God made himself known in and through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, which was accomplished through grace. For Barth, this grace was the gift of God that enabled humanity to receive his revelation. It exposed the gap that separated human beings from God and simultaneously bridged that gap through the resurrection. Therefore, he was able to say, “Grace exists, therefore, only where the resurrection is reflected.”6 Acknowledging this grace has profound implications for mission. Immediately following, Barth wrote, “But inasmuch as God knows men from afar and is known by them in His undiscoverable majesty, the man of God must inevitably approach his fellow men as an ‘emissary’ [Sendboten]. . . . For, where the grace of God is, men participate in proclaiming the transformation of time and of things, the Resurrection.” He continued, Grace means bearing witness to the faithfulness of God which a man has encountered in Christ, and which, when it is encountered and recognized, requires a corresponding fidelity towards God. The fidelity of a man to the faithfulness of God—the faith, that is, which accepts grace—is itself the demand for obedience and itself demands obedience from others. Hence the demand is a call which enlightens and rouses to action; it carries with it mission, beside which no other mission is possible. For the name of Him in whom the two worlds meet and are separated must be honoured, and for this mission grace provides full authority, since men are shattered by it.7

For Barth, mission was the necessary consequence of God’s grace. Those who have received this righteousness through grace were then to be messengers who bore witness to God’s faithfulness. With this grace, action was required on the part of the believer who was given a mission to those who have yet to encounter God’s faithfulness. Since it was through grace that Christ revealed the separation between God and humanity and at the same time bridged the gap through the resurrection, it fell upon those who had seen and heard to give their obedience to Christ as he fulfilled his own mission.

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In chapter 2 of The Epistle to the Romans, Barth addressed mission in German theology. The problem was not with mission per se but with the basis on which it was executed. He raised his aversion to the supposed source of revelation espoused by the theological liberalism of his day. He juxtaposed the law—the “impression of divine revelation”—against the revelation of God, which was the source of humanity’s righteousness.8 The law was practical only to reveal that there could be no righteousness apart from God’s free act of grace. To be precise, Barth was speaking to those who would look toward their religion and religiosity as their source of revelation. To those who would follow religion and the law, he wrote, Not without reason do you feel yourself entrusted with the mission. The contrast between yourself with all your marks of revelation and those you can display no such marks provides you with a sense of vocation. Your imagination is filled with the picture of a divine plan of God’s purpose, in the working out of which the chief role has been assigned to you. Conscious of this sacred task, and confident of ability to perform it, you do undertake the part of mediator of the impressive revelation which you have—having in the law the perfect form of knowledge and of the truth—and are willing, with passionate earnestness and conviction, to guide the blind who walk in darkness, to instruct the foolish, and to teach babes. You have the intention of spreading the revelation, of extending its influence, of propagating it; and by the power of what you are and have, you feel yourself compelled to action and appointed to co-operate with God.9

This surmounted to nothing more than the blind leading the blind.10 To them, he gave this rebuke: The missioner must, however, be sent, the instructor must have been taught, and the distributor must have been provided with something to distribute. What comes of the position of the law, if it be not done, if those who possess it be not authorized by God? What comes of the impress of revelation, if revelation be not continuous? what is the use of fixing attention upon the place where God should be, if He is no longer there? . . . No, your impress of revelation, your emotion, your experience and enthusiasm, are of this world, are flesh. With all your pious worldliness is there any reason to suppose that you have less occasion to fear the wrath of God than others have? Have you been less occupied than they in imprisoning the truth and in changing the incorruptible into the image of the corruptible? What are you, if God come not to your assistance, if He does not discover in the secret of your heart of the work, the prayer of the Publican, the appeal of the Prodigal Son, the entreaty of the widow to the Unjust Judge? Apart from this, your labour is but your labour: your righteousness is a robbery, for who does not steal? your purity is adultery, for who is rid of sexuality? your piety is arrogance, for where is the piety which does not approach God to nearly? Is there any advantage in distinguishing before the judgment seat

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of God a higher and a lower form of worldliness? If your life be without that justification which God alone can give, it is utterly devoid of any justification at all. If you have no more to boast of than your impress of revelation, you have no ground of boasting whatsoever. If you appeal to anything more than your faith, and your faith only, you can have no ground of appeal. If God be not for you, all is against you.11

For Barth, those who relied on religion as their source of revelation were no better off than those who lived without any awareness of it at all. The works of religion and the law were futile and subject to God’s judgment. In contrast, genuine mission required sending [Sendung], and God must be the one to initiate it. The people of God were sent out because they had received the revelation of God; they had received the gospel of the resurrection. Barth described the mission of the Son as the response to the question of sin, an answer that was made known only in his revelation.12 The purpose for which the Son was sent was to bear witness to the eternal and omnipotent self-revealing God. Barth further distanced God’s revelation from the impress that was gained from the world. God sent his Son into the world, not to change this world of ours, not for the inauguration of a moral reformation of the flesh, not to transform it by art, or to rationalize it by science, or to transcend it by the Fata Morgana of religion, but to announce the resurrection of the flesh; to proclaim the new man who recognizes himself in God . . . to proclaim the new world where God requires no victory . . . and to proclaim the new Creation, where Creator and creature are not two, but one.13

Revelation was a counteraction against the sin entrenched within temporality by being the no to every human possibility. The announcement of the Son transformed humanity, nature, and history and consequently fulfilled the righteousness of the law in humanity. Having received this revelation, the church then became the way God revealed himself to the world. For Barth, the church “is the place where the eternity of revelation is transformed into a temporal, concrete, directly visible thing in this world.”14 However, he also warned against relying too much on the church and thereby risk missing the true power behind the gospel. The church was limited in its revelatory function in that it could only speak parabolically of God, for “men are not competent, even if they are gifted with tongues of fire, to speak of God otherwise than in a parable [Gleichnis].”15 Barth described revelation as a paradox and a miracle. The church was insufficiently equipped to possess the knowledge of God, yet God chose to use the church as a vehicle for revelation. Barth wrote, “The paradox of the final, despairing inadequacy of human speech as a medium for expressing the Truth is a parable of the absolute miracle of the Spirit. Our almost intolerably

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one-sided and narrow-minded presentation of the thought of eternity . . . is, nevertheless, a parable of the violent and direct claim eternity imposes upon us.”16 The answer was, then, to hold onto the church in all its imperfections by “participating in its responsibility and sharing the guilt of its inevitable failure.”17 According to Kyle Roberts, in its imperfections the church becomes the agent of revelation: “The church brings to light both the problem and the answer (the No and the Yes).”18 On the one hand, the church in its imperfections is an impress of revelation as it reveals the vastness of the gulf that separates humanity from God. On the other hand, it also participates in God’s unveiling through its witness as the people of God. It is the impossible possibility of God that such a paradox should exist. “Theology and Mission in the Present Situation” In 1932, Barth was invited to deliver a lecture at the Brandenburg Missionary Conference in Berlin when his theology of crisis was generally opposed, or at least under heavy suspicion, in missionary circles. According to Flett, this suspicion was due to dialectical theology’s critique of the very existence of the missionary enterprise.19 Barth’s presentation addressed the relationship between theology and mission. He had not directly engaged in missionary circles until this point, but the reach of his works was not missed by them either. This presentation was an opportunity for Barth to clear the air and speak for himself. The question posed to Barth concerned the correlation between the work of theology and the work of mission. In response, he described mission as an activity of the church that was obedient to Christ’s calling to confess God’s self-revelation in him as Lord, creator, reconciler, and redeemer.20 For Barth, the missionary message was in all respects identical to the message directed to the church. What separated mission from other proclamations of the church was the distinction in the audience who received the gospel. Mission was directed to those who had “not yet” heard or received the message. They were the ones “who are not yet in the church themselves, that is, who do not yet profess God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ, who have not yet heard his voice and who do not yet belong to him since their baptism has not yet become visible through the Church’s ambassadorial service to them, nor through their knowledge and not yet through the sign of baptism confirming the will of the Lord directed to them.”21 In this respect, those outside the church were no different from those within since the message they received was the same. If the world outside was made up of unbelieving heathens, then Barth described the church as a community of heathens and sinners distinguished only by the fact that they had already heard the message and received the Lord’s baptism. This comparison led Barth to conclude, “All activities of the church are mission,

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even where it is not explicitly stated so.”22 The church, for its part, was also in need of the same message of repentance and baptism over and over again as it was “thrown back into the ‘not yet!’” Mission directed outside the church was, in essence, no different from its inward-directed ministry.23 According to Barth, mission presupposed the church as the place where God revealed himself. It was a work of faith and an attempt at ecclesial obedience. He recognized the potential for mission to become an instrument for human endeavors, either as religious and cultural propaganda or a way toward economic and political power. However, to be an act of faith meant that mission’s existence was not justified in itself but the “free and unrestricted grace of God.”24 Its motives were, according to Flett, located “within the prior act, will, and command of the living Lord.”25 The church, too, existed according to God’s will and not by human piety or zeal. The church’s task was to call the heathen to itself and, in turn, to God.26 The church did so even as it recognized the necessity of preaching to itself again and again, and in turn, stood in solidarity with those who had not yet heard its message.27 Thus for Barth, the church in its mission was the work of God’s grace. Mission in Church Dogmatics Anyone who wants to understand Barth’s mature theology will inevitably look to his Church Dogmatics. This is no different in attempting to gain insight into his understanding of mission. Though many scholars have turned to IV/3—specifically to §72, “The Holy Spirit and the Sending of the Christian Community”—in attempts to delineate his thinking about mission, it is impossible to separate his thoughts apart from the rest of his multivolume work. According to Geoffrey Bromiley, “For [Barth], God himself, not the doctrines, constitutes the theme of theology. Hence all the doctrines are closely interwoven.”28 George Hunsinger concurs with this assessment, stating, “No one ever seems to have had a stronger sense [than Barth] that in Christian theology every theme is connected to every other theme.”29 Nonetheless, scholars are keen on examining §72 as his major exposition on mission without much reference to the rest of his corpus.30 A Narrow Definition Notably, volume IV/3 was not the first instance in the Church Dogmatics where Barth referred to mission. Barth mentioned mission at the onset of his four-volume work where he stated, “The Church confesses God as it talks about God . . . by its specific action as a fellowship, in proclamation by preaching and the administration of the sacraments, in worship, in its internal and external mission [äußeren und inneren Mission] including works of love

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amongst the sick, the weak and those in jeopardy.”31 However, this cursory reference presupposed that his audience already had to a certain degree some preconceived notion of mission. It was not until §72 that he expounded upon the subject. Barth directly addressed mission in a subsection of his writing wherein he described the various ministries of the Christian community. For him, in its most narrow sense, mission meant that the church was sent out to the nations to bear witness to the gospel. He wrote, “In mission the Church sets off and goes . . . taking the essentially and most profoundly necessary step beyond itself, and beyond the dubiously Christian world in which it is more immediately set, to the world of men to which . . . the Word which God has pronounced in Jesus Christ concerning the covenant of grace which He has concluded with it is still alien and must therefore be taken as a new message.”32 What Barth meant here by mission was foreign missions [Heidenmission].33 He differentiated this from the church’s task of evangelization, which was also referred to as home missions or inner missions [innerer Mission].34 While they were related, foreign missions was directed to those outside the Corpus Christianum, while evangelization was directed to those within. This was consistent with his 1932 address, where he described heathens both inside and outside the church.35 For Barth, mission remained a task of the church in relation to the outside world. Barth made several comments regarding foreign missions.36 He began by grounding the scope of mission to the universal extent of salvation. Here, Christ’s resurrection was efficacious to all, and the task of mission was not to bring about salvation but to announce what Christ had already done for those who had yet to hear. For Barth, salvation was ultimately a work of God. What is more, the missionary task to share the gospel to those outside the church fell upon the whole church community, thereby characterizing it as a missionary community. Barth wrote, “The community itself and as such is the acting subject in foreign missions too, or else it is not the Christian community.”37 Barth further directed his comments against those who would use missionary activity for purposes other than sharing the gospel, whether it be to propagate culture or civilization or to exploit colonial or political interests. He echoed this in later statements where he described the goal of mission as the transformation of heathens to become witnesses themselves as the message was sustained within their communities without outside interference. Furthermore, mission was to take its engagement with other religions seriously without compromising its own message and seek to replicate the whole ministry of the church in all its forms within the newly formed Christian communities.38

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A Broader Definition From these few pages, Barth understood mission to be a task and responsibility of the church. According to Rossel, this task was both a facet of the church’s responsibilities and its very root.39 He points to evidence of the church’s responsibility toward mission in the introductory statement of §72, where Barth stated, The Holy Spirit is the enlightening power of the living Lord Jesus Christ in which He confesses the community called by Him as His body, i.e., as His own earthly-historical form of existence, by entrusting to it the ministry of His prophetic Word and therefore the provisional representation of the calling of all humanity and indeed of all creatures as it has taken place in Him. He does this by sending it among the peoples as His own people, ordained for its part to confess Him before all men, to call them to Him and thus to make known to the whole world that the covenant between God and man concluded in Him is the first and final meaning of its history, and that His future manifestation is already here and now its great, effective and living hope.40

In other words, the church—those who have received the revelation of God—was defined by its quality of being sent into the world as Christ’s “own earthly-historical form of existence.” The notion of sending became a vital qualification to Barth’s understanding of the mission and purpose of the church. This sending was informed by Christ’s very quality of being sent. Barth compared the sending of the Son and the sending of the church as analogous because “they have the same origin.” He continued, “The one God who sends Him as the Father also sends them [the church] through Him the Son. . . . He and they are both sent into the world, which means very generally that they are directed to the world and exist for it.”41 This link was already alluded to in 1932 when he drew connections between the church’s mission with the divine missions, stating, “The term missio in the old Church was a term from the doctrine of the Trinity, namely the term for the divine self-sendings, the mission of the Son and the Holy Spirit into the world. . . . [It] is the undeniable origin of modern mission.”42 In short, mission meant, for Barth, being sent into the world. In its mission, the church inevitably took on a particular orientation that stemmed from its calling. Not only was the church sent into the world, but it was also sent for the world. For Barth, “the true community of Jesus Christ is the community in which God has sent out into the world in and with its foundation. As such it exists for the world.”43 Barth had in mind John 20:21; “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He understood the church as a creature of the world, and therefore existed in the world and was no different from it. The church existed “wholly with reference to . . . the world around.”44 At

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the same time, the church also existed for God and his purposes. As such, the church did not exist for the world simply by being a part of creation but was dependent upon God’s own orientation as being for the world: “God is who He is, not in abstracto nor without relationship, but as God for the world.”45 In God’s being for the world, he sent the church. What is more, the church was the representation—as imperfect as it may be—of the divine reality. It was a likeness or parable [Gleichnis] to Christ, “a subsequent and provisional representation of the divine-human reality.”46 Therefore, the church’s quality of being sent could only be conditioned by God’s prior orientation to the world, which had profound implications for mission. So, when Barth referred to the ministries of the church, which included mission, he did so in the context of the church being sent and with the understanding that those ministries were ultimately, though perhaps not always directly, for the sake of its witness to the world. This raises the question: What is the mission or purpose of the church? In the broadest of terms, the church’s mission was to be God’s witnesses.47 Barth wrote, “[The church’s task] consists in the fact that with their whole being, action, inaction and conduct, and then by word and speech, they have to make a definite declaration to other men. The essence of their vocation is that God makes them His witnesses.”48 The whole essence of the church’s existence was to be a witness to God’s action toward the world and among people in past, present, and future history.49 The testimony of Scripture was the record of this witness in history. Barth described in a lengthy excursus the various forms of biblical witness in the Old and New Testaments.50 He began by describing the roles of the prophets and the apostles as forms of witness, where the former looked ahead toward Christ and the latter recalled from the point since Christ. Barth wrote, The work of God, the Word of which the called have to hear and attest to others, is an ongoing and at all points differentiated history in the course of which God continually wills and does particular things and therefore has always something particular to say, even though He always speaks of His present, past and future rule and action. It is for this reason that He calls so many different witnesses at specific times and in specific situations. It is for this reason, too, that the form and content of their witness are so rich and varied.51

The church’s witness was the continuation of what was set before it as it worked in and engaged with the world in order to relay the revelation of God’s acts. The church was responsible for its confessions as “hearers of His Word within the world and humanity which has not heard it but for which His work is dumb, and in this way to make the world and humanity hear.”52

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For Barth, this was its very reason for the church’s existence. Mission was the fulfillment of the church’s calling to be witnesses of God’s revelation. To summarize, Barth understood mission as an action of the church. It was an act of obedience in response to God’s grace, which was revealed to the church and subsequently through the church. Mission was the church’s witness of God’s revelation, and it witnessed to the world through its very being and act, encompassing its task of proclamation, community, and service. The church’s mission was sanctioned by God and no other, for it depended on God sending his own Son into the world. Because the Son was sent for the world, so too was the church sent. Its mission was oriented to the world and was carried out for the sake of the world. THE MISSION OF REVELATION Having examined what Barth said about mission, it is necessary to now investigate the relevance of his theology toward mission by beginning with revelation. Missiologists assert that mission is foremost a work of the triune God. But what does it mean that mission is of God, and how does one approach this question without falling into the trap of becoming an ambiguous trope or lacking a consensus of meaning? To answer this question, one must begin with a theology of revelation, to which Barth has much to offer. Trevor Hart writes that for Barth, revelation is “the only legitimate starting point for truly theological activity.”53 What is more, revelation cannot be discussed apart from Jesus Christ, who is “his own presupposition,”54 nor the work accomplished in him, for “the beginning of our knowledge of God . . . can only be the beginning which He has made with us.”55 According to Barth, “Christian doctrine, if it is to merit its name and if it is to build up the Christian church in the world as she must needs be built up, has to be exclusively and conclusively the doctrine of Jesus Christ.”56 This statement is apt for mission theology as well. The knowledge of God begins not with human beings asking the question of God, nor does the understanding of mission begin with those who receive its effects—which subsumes mission under anthropology or ecclesiology—but with God revealing himself freely to human beings according to his will and thereby providing the question and the answer in himself. Christ’s being in revelation brings four facets to light. First, Christ stands at the center of his revelation. The statements that both revelation and Christ are the starting points of theology are affirmed in Barth because, for him, Christ is the revelation of God. He not only brings a word from God but is himself the given Word. Second, revelation does not stand apart from the reconciliation that it brings. The Word revealed in Christ cannot be discussed apart from the reconciliation that takes place in him. God reveals with purpose.

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Revelation and reconciliation go hand in hand, and to speak of one is also to speak of the other. Third, Christ as the revealed Word of God’s reconciliation is realized in the doctrine of election, where Christ is the electing God as well as the elected human. And finally, revelation necessarily occurs within the concrete historical reality of the church. It is mediated through the life and action of the community of Christ. These facets inform the church for a more relevant and faithful theology of mission. Christ as the Center of Revelation Much has already been said about Barth’s understanding of revelation, but it bears repeating. His understanding comes in response to what Ben Quash calls “reductionist” concepts of revelation presented by the modern liberal theologies.57 Under this broad expression, revelation is viewed either in terms where knowledge of God stems from human subjective rationale, morality, or experience, or in objective history, sacred text, or ecclesial tradition. In effect, revelation is reduced from transcendent activity “to the terms and condition of creaturely possibility.”58 Barth’s project moves revelation away from the human possibility as its source and recovers its transcendence as God’s free and miraculous gift. The question of revelation immediately confronts the question of the Trinity. True to form, Barth describes God’s movement of revelation in tripartite fashion: “God reveals Himself. He reveals Himself through Himself. He reveals Himself.”59 His image of revelation begins with the trinitarian structure of God’s being, showing him to be at all times its subject, act, and effect. Barth presents a trinitarian formulation for revelation through this construction where God the Father reveals God the Son through God the Holy Spirit as Revealer, Revelation, and Revealedness. He writes, God’s Word is God Himself in His revelation. For God reveals Himself as the Lord and according to Scripture this signifies for the concept of revelation that God Himself in unimpaired unity yet also in unimpaired distinction is Revealer, Revelation, and Revealedness. . . . 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. It is from this fact, which in the first instance we are merely indicating, that we learn we must begin the doctrine of revelation with the doctrine of the triune God.60

Thus, through the understanding that “God reveals Himself,” a movement takes place away from human possibility and toward divine transcendence. God is the subject of revelation, for God reveals himself. By claiming God as

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the subject, Barth removes the agency of revelation away from human possibility and locates it under God’s initiative. It is not from ourselves that God is known, but it is God’s gift. Accompanying the question of who the one is that reveals is the question of how revelation takes place and what is it that is being revealed, both of which are found in the same subject: God, who reveals himself through himself. Up until now, Barth has been speaking in broad terms to justify revelation as the root of trinitarian doctrine.61 However, it is not enough to say that God is the revealer, revelation, and revealedness. In answering his own question regarding the effect of revelation, Barth states, “God reveals Himself as Lord.”62 Not only that, but God is also Lord in his triunity; first, “in his inscrutability apart from his own free act,” second, “in the historical self-unveiling,” and third, “in his self-impartation to men, . . . in his specific coming to us.”63 From this third movement, God coming to us, Barth begins to describe revelation in its concrete form where God reveals himself in Jesus Christ as Lord. For him, Christ is the revelation of God that answers the who, what, and how: “The comprehensive meaning of the whole of the biblical witness . . . [is] that He reveals Himself as the Son.”64 Christ is the centerpiece of trinitarian doctrine: “The doctrine of the Trinity, when considered historically in its origin and development, is not equally interested in the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Here too the theme is primarily the second person of the Trinity, God the Son, the deity of Christ.”65 This is significant because it is particularly in Christ that God engages with humanity. In Christ, God is person. As revelation, Christ is “Dei loquentis persona [God speaking in person].”66 This is a possibility only by way of the trinitarian differentiation within God’s being. In this way, the trinitarian doctrine undergirds Christology, while revelation centered on Christ is at the same time the root of the doctrine of the Trinity.67 Reconciliation as the Ground of Revelation It is important to note that though he begins this multivolume work with the doctrine of the Word of God, Barth does not do so in isolation from the rest of his doctrines. To put it another way, one cannot systematically approach any single doctrine on its own terms but only in relation to the rest.68 As such, one must consider his understanding of mission in §72 in its larger context of the doctrine of reconciliation. It already becomes apparent that one cannot speak of reconciliation, according to Barth, without also referring to revelation. This is a consistent motif since the beginning when he writes in Romans, “The Resurrection is the revelation.” Likewise, in the Göttingen Dogmatics, one finds Barth linking revelation to the incarnation as the “divine answer to the human question concerning the overcoming of the contradiction of human

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existence.”69 These notions mature and become solidified in his correlation between revelation and reconciliation in his Church Dogmatics. Barth has been criticized for prioritizing the doctrine of revelation over the salvific concerns of reconciliation and atonement. For instance, Gustaf Wingren suggests that “Barth has a tendency to shift the emphasis in the gospel of Christ from the death and resurrection to the incarnation, the birth, the miracle of Christmas.”70 Consequently, according to Wingren, this shift downplays the significance of humanity’s sin, the existence of evil, and the necessity of salvation brought through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Wingren assumes in this movement from death and resurrection to birth and incarnation a corresponding anthropological shift where the primary concern of humanity’s sin and guilt is replaced by the lack of knowledge of God. This presumed shift of focus from God’s reconciling work to his incarnate presence in Barth’s theology suggests that the primary barrier that separates humanity from God is not sin or guilt but rather ignorance of the knowledge of God. This, however, misrepresents Barth’s understanding of revelation. For him, it is clear: “Revelation in fact does not differ from the person of Jesus Christ nor from the reconciliation accomplished in Him.”71 In other words, revelation and reconciliation are two sides of the same coin, and neither is separable from the other. According to Trevor Hart, “Revelation and reconciliation/atonement are two aspects of the same reality: they are both ways of referring to what happens and what must happen in order for humans to be drawn into a personal knowing of God.”72 Rather than placing the doctrine of revelation over other doctrines regarding reconciliation, Barth more adequately draws the two together systematically within trinitarian doctrine, thereby providing an understanding of salvation that goes beyond the “Western preoccupation with forensic and moral categories.”73 For Barth, the purpose of revelation is not simply for a cognitive knowledge of God but a redeeming knowledge of God. Here, revelation is centered on Jesus Christ as the Word and act of God. God’s revelation is entirely made known through the Word becoming flesh (Jn 1:14). What is revealed through Christ in his incarnation is also the message of reconciliation between God and humanity through his death and resurrection. For Barth, revelation does not occur for its own sake but has a purpose, one that is directed toward humanity. The Word is revealed in the context of this human relation. For Barth, the Word of God “in its form neither as proclamation, Holy Scripture, nor revelation . . . exists or could exist merely in and for itself. We know it only as a Word that is directed to us and applies to us.”74 Revelation is able to “regard and meet” [meint und trifft] humanity in their own existence in order to renew the “original relation between us and Him.”75 In other words, revelation and reconciliation go hand in hand. The fact that

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the Word meets people in history means that God also acts. According to Bromiley, “The purposiveness of the Word as God’s speech leads naturally to the thought of God’s speech as his act.”76 This means that Jesus Christ, as the Word of God who by the very nature of the incarnation exists in history, also has ramifications for history. According to Barth, “It is the divine person, the person of the Lord of history, whose self-expression is as such an alteration, and indeed an absolute alteration of the world, whose passio [passive experience] in history is as such actio [action].”77 In other words, God reveals himself to humanity through his Word in the incarnation to affect change to the status quo by becoming the reconciliation of God for the world. The revelation of Jesus Christ and the reconciliation that comes through him are not separate but are the same event. The fundamental message revealed in Christ is the message of reconciliation. According to Barth, the Word of God is “the Word of the Reconciler, of the God who effects a new creation, who sets up His covenant with us afresh in judgment and grace. Whatever God may say to us, it will at all events be said in this relationship of renewal.”78 Because it is from God and not of human doing, revelation is a “grace for sinners . . . an especial, free, unmerited and unearned act of divine turning towards, and condescension to, man.”79 For Barth, God freely reveals himself to humanity, and that act of freedom is a gracious gift. He writes, Revelation means grace. Grace means condescension. Condescension means being made man. Being made man means being made flesh. Jesus Christ is all that. And that, and that alone, is revelation. If God were not gracious (and this means if He retained the majesty of His Godhead for Himself), if He did not of His own free decision turn towards men, there would be no revelation; man would be left to himself. If God’s grace were not complete, if that grace did not consist in an inconceivably real descent of God into our depths, there would be no revelation. If God had not descended so far into the depths that He met us as one of ourselves in all the distance and nearness of a human form, there would be no revelation. If he had not become in all respects a man like ourselves, and consequently “flesh,” there would be no revelation. All this in very truth God has done for us in Jesus Christ.80

In this way, God, in his revelation, is both with us and for us. God’s incarnation, his being with us, is not only how Christ is revealed but is also the content of his revelation. Barth writes, “Revelation means the incarnation of the Word of God.”81 The incarnation is how God reveals the message of reconciliation. Again, for Barth, “Incarnation was needed in order that God might become manifest to us, that He might be free for us.”82 In other words, God freely chooses to be with us in order to reveal that he is for us. Moreover, because God is for us, he desires to be with us. Revelation and reconciliation are inexorably bound together.

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An essential facet of Barth’s understanding of revelation is that God reveals for the sake of humanity; God in his revelation is pro nobis. The pronobeity of God is revealed in the concrete death and resurrection of the incarnate Christ. This orientation toward humanity as being for us characterizes the very essence of mission. Traditionally, mission finds its basis in the trinitarian sending of the Son by the Father and of the Holy Spirit by the Father and the Son to a term outside of Godself. The divine missions of the Trinity, upon which mission and the missio Dei are derived, are a replication of the divine processions but with the added condition of an external term. Robert Doran puts this in a twofold account. First, he argues, “The divine missions are constituted by God alone as consequent upon the relations of opposition that are the Trinity.” Second, “The judgments that affirm the missions require a created term external to God as a consequent condition of the truth of the judgments.”83 This created external term is related to the act of creation in time and space. Thus, Doran’s basic definition of the divine missions is the Father’s “sending of the Son and the Holy Spirit, the missions that in effect are the Trinity in history.”84 It is here that Barth’s theology of revelation addresses mission theology. His notion of revelation as having a redemptive purpose necessarily means that it does not occur for its own sake but the sake of humanity. Likewise, the external term of the divine missions does not exist in a nebulous void but in having created substance. So, the missions are directed toward God’s very own creation. The movement of revelation is directed toward humanity. In this way, the mission of God is the revelation of God. God’s movement from his trinitarian being to the external term of creation takes place in the form of revelation in the very act of making himself known. Humanity is otherwise unable to participate in its fellowship with God apart from the self-revealing movement from Godself to humanity in what can be described as no less than missional. Conversely, the revelation of God is the mission of God. Again, to put it another way, God reveals himself in his trinitarian being to be in a relationship with humanity in the process of reconciliation. Not only does God reconcile the world to himself, but he also makes known this reconciliation that takes place in God through his revelation. Namely, this revelation takes place through Jesus Christ in his incarnation and resurrection and subsequently takes place in the biblical witness and prophetic proclamation. It also takes place in the life of the church. Election as the Content of Revelation For Barth, the revelation of Christ as the reconciliation of God is captured in the doctrine of election. This doctrine has been described as central to Barth’s understanding of the Gospel and his theology as a whole, thus becoming one of his most significant contributions to theology. According to Barth, “The

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election of grace is the sum of the Gospel. . . . But more, the election of grace is the whole of the Gospel, the Gospel in nuce. It is the very essence of all good news.”85 For Barth, the message of the gospel is that God graciously elects. However, this statement requires further elaboration, for Barth’s understanding of the doctrine is a radical departure from the traditional Reformed understanding of election. Traditional accounts of election state that before creation, God predestines some individuals—the elect—for salvation from an otherwise created order of humanity destined to eternal condemnation. What is more, this election takes place in Jesus Christ, the mediator who was “chosen before the creation of the world” (1 Pet 1:20, NIV). Barth’s doctrine of election agrees with this formulation in this respect, for he too understands that God’s primary object of election is not humanity but Godself in Jesus Christ. Barth writes, “God’s election of man is a predestination not merely of man but of Himself.”86 In his divine-human nature, Christ mediates between the two precisely because Christ is the primary object of election. However, Barth moves beyond this traditional formulation when he understands that Jesus Christ is at the same time the subject of election, the electing God. In his divinity, Christ shares in the fullness of God’s election. Barth writes, “The election of Jesus Christ is the eternal choice and decision of God. . . . In no depth of the Godhead shall we encounter any other but Him. There is no such thing as Godhead in itself. Godhead is always the Godhead of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”87 This means that Jesus Christ, in his full divinity, participates in the act of election while maintaining the triunity of the Godhead. Barth continues, “There is no such thing as a will of God apart from the will of Jesus Christ. . . . On the contrary, Jesus Christ reveals to us our election as an election which is made by Him, by His will which is also the will of God. He tells us that He Himself is the One who elects.” In other words, God reveals to us that he in Christ is both the subject and object of election, both the electing God and the elected human. Christ being both the subject and object of election means that election ontologically precedes its economic expression. In other words, election is an inherent attribute of God and not a response to human fallenness. Barth writes, “Jesus Christ reveals to us our election as an election which is made by Him.”88 The implications are significant toward understanding God’s being. According to McCormack, “If now Barth wishes to speak of Jesus Christ . . . as the Subject of election, he must deny to the Logos a mode or state of being above and prior to the decision to be incarnate in time.”89 This goes against traditional Reformed christological formulations that distinguish between the eternal being of the Word in and of himself prior to the incarnation (logos incarnandus) and the incarnate Word who became flesh for the sake of humanity (logos incarnatus). In contrast, there is no distinction for Barth between the moment prior to and following the incarnation. In other words,

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God ad intra is not materially different from God ad extra. Consequently, this also means that what is revealed ad extra determines our understanding of God ad intra, for “God is who He is in the act of His revelation.”90 In terms of mission, which is the revelation of God, this means that God’s movement toward humanity is also not a second step occasioned by external conditions but is inherent to God’s being. It means that God’s being—which is, according to Eberhard Jüngel, “in movement from eternity”91—is in mission. Barth writes, Jesus Christ is indeed God in His movement towards man. . . . Jesus Christ is the decision of God in favour of this attitude or relation. He is Himself the relation. . . . It is a relation which is irrevocable, so that once God has willed to enter into it, and has in fact entered into it, He could not be God without it. It is a relation in which God is self-determined, so that the determination belongs no less to Him than all that He is in and for Himself.92

In God’s determination to be with humanity, his being is established as one that is inherently bound to humanity. Jüngel writes, “God’s primal decision to go into the far country [the created world] is certainly not a decision forced upon him from the far country, not something foreign to him, but his free decision.”93 In his movement, God reveals that he is in his being the one who elects and that the very revelation of God realizes the election of God. God’s being in election necessarily requires that God’s being is also eternally predetermined toward mission. The Church as the Mediator of Revelation Thus far, I have argued that in order to better understand mission, one must step away from the traditional organizing principles that subsume mission under ecclesiology and instead locate it under a theology of revelation. This would suggest that it is necessary to move the locus of mission away from the church. However, such a move would not only be premature but a misunderstanding of revelation as a whole. Here, too, Barth provides a way to hold these things together by answering the question: What is the relationship between revelation and the church? For Barth, the Trinity undergirds the theology of revelation in Christ. This means that mission as a description of the trinitarian movement must be taken up within God’s own being. Not only is Christ sent by the Father, but he is also sent to be the revelation of the Father. Continuing Christ’s movement of being sent, the church serves as a revelatory medium. Barth answers the question of the church from the very beginnings of his Church Dogmatics when he claims that it is in the church alone that the work of dogmatics is made

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“possible and meaningful.”94 He begins his discussion with the threefold form of the Word of God expressed as proclamation, Scripture, and revelation. The three depend on one another and exist in analog to the trinitarian being of God. In the order of knowing, the Word of God revealed is presupposed and made known by proclamation and Scripture, while in the order of being, preaching and Scripture are derivative of and depend upon God’s self-disclosure in his revelation. Barth writes, As the Bible and proclamation become God’s Word in virtue of the actuality of revelation they are God’s Word: the one Word of God within which there can be neither a more nor a less. . . . The first, revelation, is the form that underlies the other two. But it is the very one that never meets us anywhere in abstract form. We know it only indirectly, from Scripture and proclamation.95

Neither the preaching nor the texts are revelation in themselves but only become so as they are dependent upon God in his revelation. Having made clear distinctions between the three forms of revelation, Barth proceeds to bring them together within a trinitarian framework. He establishes the Word in proclamation and Scripture as subordinate forms of revelation itself. However, he is also quick to note the significance of the subordination regarding the human reception of the Word. Through the mediated Word of proclamation and Scripture, God is made known, but even then, only indirectly.96 For created beings, revelation is given through the creaturely media of speech, action, and text.97 This is true even in terms of the incarnation when the revelation of God became flesh. Revelation does not occur in abstraction but in concrete reality and history, for “there is no Word of God without a physical event.”98 As Eberhard Busch describes it, “The Word of God is the reality of the fact that God has made and does make himself known to us in the concrete history of Jesus Christ, which summarizes the history of Israel, and which is imparted to us by the Holy Spirit, attested to in Holy Scripture, and then proclaimed to us in the church in accordance with Scripture.”99 In short, revelation in all its three forms necessarily takes place within creation. The fact that the Word comes via proclamation and Scripture is significant for the church, for this is the point of intersection between church and revelation. Barth makes the additional move to locate the Word of God within this ecclesial context. According to John Yocum, “God acts in, with, and through human means to impart knowledge of Himself.”100 While God is not dependent upon human beings, he reveals himself, according to Thomas Currie, via the tangible reality of the creaturely and divine “union in the event of proclamation, in the written words of Scripture, and in the humanity of Jesus Christ.”101 He further elaborates this human-divine intersection as taking

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place within the church. Currie continues, the “union of divine voice and human witness only comes about by the power of the Holy Spirit as it lives and moves and speaks in and through the Christian community.”102 As such, it is crucial to understand that revelation is located within the context of the church community. The Word through the Church Barth begins his dogmatic inquiry with the church’s proclamation as the material of dogmatics. This material is for him “the function of the Church’s life which governs all others.”103 It is clear that proclamation is not only the church speaking about God, but to a greater extent God speaking about himself through the church: “Proclamation is human speech in and by which God Himself speaks like a king through the mouth of his herald, and which is meant to be heard and accepted as speech in and by which God Himself speaks.”104 In other words, the church is the context in which God’s revelation takes place.105 Barth safeguards the distinction between God and humans by stating that the presupposition of God’s speech in church proclamation is the Word of God. Proclamation is not the Word of God by its own virtue but is in a constant state of becoming real proclamation as it rests on the revealed Word. For Barth, “Real proclamation . . . means the Word of God preached and the Word of God preached means in this first and outermost circle man’s talk about God on the basis of God’s own direction, which fundamentally transcends all human causation, which cannot, then, be put on a human basis, but which simply takes place, and has to be acknowledged, as a fact.”106 Proclamation is first and foremost God’s speech. This does negate any traces of the human element in this event. Barth qualifies proclamation with human involvement, writing, Human talk, with its motives and themes and the judgments among which it stands as human talk, is there even while God’s Word is there. The miracle of real proclamation does not consist in the fact that the willing and doing of proclaiming man with all its conditioning and in all its problems is set aside, that in some way a disappearance takes place and a gap arises in the reality of nature, and that in some way there steps into this gap naked divine reality scarcely concealed by a mere remaining appearance of human reality.107

The Word of God does not set aside human agency; the human is not an empty vessel. Instead, it is through human obedience and divine intervention that proclamation becomes real. There is one additional step in relating revelation to the church. Not only does revelation occur necessarily within created beings, but it also necessarily happens in the church. For Barth, the church is the locus of revelation.108

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The Word preached only becomes so as it is carried out in and by the church. Barth introduces §22 by saying, “God gives the Church the commission to speak about Him, and the Church discharges this commission. . . . This is its essential character, function and duty.”109 The task of preaching is a function given solely to the church by “the authority and freedom accorded to the Church as instituted under the Word and assembled by the Word.”110 Barth recognizes that while any given individual may undertake the task of preaching, it never takes place outside of ecclesial fellowship. The preacher cannot be isolated from this fellowship but instead must “speak and must be heard as members of the body of Christ and in the name of the Church.”111 In preaching, the preacher does not represent his own words but the Word of God who speaks in the church community. In the same way, the sacraments do not represent any action in themselves but speak to the greater reality that is revealed as the body of Christ participates in them. According to Martha Moore-Keish, the sacraments are “signs that help to make God’s objective revelation in Christ subjectively real”112 as they take place in the church. Barth writes, “The church, the body of Christ, and therefore Christ Himself exists and exists only where there are signs of the New Testament, that is, preaching, baptism, and the Lord’s Supper.”113 All this means that proclamation through the preaching and sacraments is an essential function reserved for the church that reveals the Word of God. The Word in the Church The second area where the church is the locus of revelation is in its task of reading Scripture. For Barth, proclamation does not exist independently from other sources but is grounded in its historical witness. Here, the Bible testifies to God’s revelation in history and so becomes the Word of God. It is God’s self-disclosure in the past—his revelation enacted through Abraham, Moses, the prophets, the apostles, and others—which is simply the commencement of God’s speech that is committed to text and continues into the present via proclamation and therefore being “one and the same event.”114 The message of proclamation is not materially different from what is found in Scripture but is distinguished by the fact that while the latter records the revelation that points and leads to Christ, the former extends from Christ and looks forward to his promise. According to Barth, The Church . . . is not left to itself in its proclamation, that the commission on the ground of which it proclaims, the object which it proclaims, the judgment under which its proclamation stands and the event of real proclamation must all come from elsewhere, from without, and very concretely from without, in all the externality of the concrete Canon as a categorical imperative which is also historical, which speaks in time.115

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The Bible, too, is not simply a static text from which one dispenses knowledge, but an active Word that “seeks to be understood afresh.” To think otherwise risks the Word of God written to be captive to the church’s authority. Just as revelation is received through the preaching and the sacraments as they are necessarily proclaimed in the church, it is also received through the Scripture as it is read in and by the church. Scripture as the written Word of God becomes so only as it is received in the historical and contemporary universal church. For Barth, it is here where Scripture becomes the Word of God. He writes, The Church is constituted as the Church by a common hearing and receiving of the Word of God. . . . The life of the Church is the life of the members of a body. Where there is any attempt to break loose from the community of hearing and receiving necessarily involved, any attempt to hear and receive the Word of God in isolation—even the Word of God in the form of Holy Scripture—there is no Church, and no real hearing and receiving of the Word of God; for the Word of God is not spoken to individuals, but to the Church of God and to individuals only in the Church. The Word of God itself, therefore, demands this community of hearing and receiving. Those who really hear and receive it do so in this community. They would not hear and receive it if they tried to withdraw from this community.116

Barth repeatedly states that the Bible and its texts are not in itself the Word of God but are dependent upon the revealed Word. This revelation takes form in the church as it is read in the context of the fellowship of believers. This fellowship is comprised of both the immediate church community and the historical witnesses of the church in their receptions and interpretations of the text. However, this does not mean that Scripture can only be read or received as a group, which would invalidate his own reflections on the Word. Barth is referring to the accountability over the application of the Word as it is made known in the context of communal fellowship. One does not hear or receive for oneself but for the sake of the community. One does not claim the revelation imparted as authoritative but submits to “the verdict of the Church, to enter into debate with the rest of the Church about the common faith of the Church,” and is open to correction.117 Scripture is a document written for the church that is intended to be read in and by the church, thereby becoming the Word of God. It is essential to understand the dialectic of reading Scripture according to Barth, wherein the church holds authority over its interpretation of the text while at the same time subject to the Scripture’s authority in shaping its reception by the church.118 The church becomes the interpreter of the Word as it is itself interpreted by the Word. For Barth, in order for anyone to speak to the church through Scripture, one must first hear Scripture as the individual

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submits to the church’s authority. Barth writes, “If my confession [the hearing and receiving of the Word] is to have weight in the Church, it must be weighted with the fact that I have heard the Church. If I have not heard the Church, I cannot speak to it.”119 First, receiving the Word is a submission to the church’s authority over Scripture. According to Bender, along with its license to establish the canon of Scripture, “The church possesses an authority in its doctrinal formulations and individual teachers which interpret revelation, and in the church’s determination of which these authorities are to be heard in the practice of interpreting Scripture.”120 The individual who interprets the text does not do so in a vacuum but within the context of the church’s historical witness. At the same time, this historical witness is shaped and tempered by the Holy Spirit. It is not the witness of human words but of the Word of God that is given to the church. Barth writes, His Word, in which He Himself is present and gracious to His Church—and which must not be replaced by or confused with the word which the Church itself has and has to speak—is the word of the biblical witnesses, the Word which He Himself has put in the mouth of His prophets and apostles. Therefore His Word always confronts the word of man in the Church. . . . His Word (and therefore His presence and grace) is not an idea which, once it has enlightened the Church, once the Church has made it its own, becomes the idea of the Church itself. And the authority of His Word cannot be assimilated by the Church, to reappear as the divine authority of the Church. His Word—the same Word by which He imparts Himself to the Church, in which He lives in the Church, in which He Himself sets up His authority in the Church—is given to the Church in such a way that it is always His Word as against its word: the Word which it has to hear and proclaim and serve and by which it lives, but which in order that this may happen is prevented from being assumed or subsumed into the Church’s word, which asserts itself over against it as an independent Word, as one which is always new to the Church in every age and has to be newly encountered by it.121

The church’s authority is not established by its own virtue but is given through Christ, who “stands over against the authority of the Church.” The church reads Scripture according to the Word, and only from there, from within the church, can it speak to itself. The Word as the Church The mediate revelation of the Word in preaching and in Scripture is in view of the revelation of the Word of God. Neither proclamation nor Scripture are revelation in and of themselves but are dependent upon God’s self-disclosing act. According to Barth,

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The Bible, then, is not in itself and as such God’s past revelation, just as Church proclamation is not in itself and as such the expected future revelation. The Bible, speaking to us and heard by us as God’s Word, bears witness to past revelation. Proclamation, speaking to us and heard by us as God’s Word, promises future revelation. The Bible is God’s Word as it really bears witness to revelation, and proclamation is God’s Word as it really promises revelation.122

In other words, Jesus Christ is the Word of God. This is the crux to Barth’s understanding of God’s self-disclosure: “To say ‘God with us’ is to say something which has no basis or possibility outside itself, which can in no sense be explained in terms of man and man’s situation, but only as knowledge of God from God, as free and unmerited grace.”123 Revelation does not begin with any human way of knowing but is freely given. Both Scripture and proclamation as the Word are derived from the Word revealed through Christ, and in its threefold form, revelation “manifests a duality in unity, having both a fully human and a fully divine aspect.”124 Just as the text of Scripture is written by humans and the speech and acts of proclamation are discharged by humans, so too is the Word revealed by taking on human form in the person of Jesus Christ. This event may be limited in time and space to the historical events of the incarnation if not for the fact that Barth understands the church as Christ’s historical presence on earth. But before delving into Barth’s ecclesiology, it is necessary to address the significance of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s influence over Barth’s later writings. It is well established that Barth had significantly influenced Bonhoeffer, even if there were areas of contention.125 Barth heavily criticized Bonhoeffer on numerous occasions, even stating at one point, “I venture to doubt whether theological systematics (I include his Ethics) was his real strength.”126 Likewise, Bonhoeffer extended a less than positive reception of Barth’s act-concept of revelation in his habilitation, Act and Being.127 However, this critical dialogue was, for Bonhoeffer, a sign of admiration, and his critiques were meant to work out the theological differences between them. Likewise, Barth included many words of praise for Bonhoeffer in the later volumes of his Church Dogmatics, even to the point of saying, “I openly confess that I have misgivings whether I can even maintain the high level reached by Bonhoeffer, saying no less in my own words and context, and saying it no less forcefully, than did this young man so many years ago.”128 Less recognized is the influence that Bonhoeffer had on Barth. Matthew Puffer attempts to ameliorate this lacuna by tracing the imprints of Bonhoeffer’s theology in the later volumes of the Church Dogmatics. Puffer argues that themes like the analogia relationis, imitatio Christi, and communio sanctorum found in Barth are directly owed to Bonhoeffer.129 Barth himself later commended Bonhoeffer’s work in Sanctorum Communio while

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entering into a discussion about the church community, stating that it was a “far more instructive and stimulating and illuminating and genuinely edifying reading to-day than the many of the more famous works which have since been written on the problem of the Church.”130 A closer read with this in mind brings a fresh perspective toward understanding Barth’s theology of the church. Sanctorum Communio is Bonhoeffer’s earliest work that establishes him as a promising theologian. It is also the foundation upon which he builds the rest of his works. According to Clifford Green, the text establishes the “central ideas that inform all his writings—and, indeed, his life—notwithstanding theological and personal developments associated with later works such as Discipleship, Ethics, and Letters and Papers from Prison.”131 As the subtitle suggests, Sanctorum Communio is a study of the sociology of the church, that is, an attempt to understand the structure of the church [Kirche] as a community [Gemeinde]. For Bonhoeffer, this structure is made possible only through the framework of sociality [Sozialität], or the understanding that community is an intrinsic aspect of human existence.132 As such, concepts of person, primal state (the unbroken community), sin (the broken community), and revelation (the Word of God as the restoration of community) are all interpreted by Bonhoeffer through this lens. In Sanctorum Communio, Bonhoeffer develops the notion of the church as “Christ existing as community.”133 For him, the church is neither merely temporal-historical, which finds its basis on “religious motives,”134 nor is it merely spiritual, which ignores the temporal aspects of human participation. Rather, the church is the “reality of revelation.” Here, the meaning is twofold. First, the church is not something that can be deduced as a human possibility but is “grounded in the reality of God and God’s revelation.”135 Only from God’s revelation can the church be made known and comprehended, and only through revelation is the church realized. Second, the church is itself the revelation of God in history, the “continued incarnation of Christ in the world.”136 This view is expressed again in terms of Christ. Bonhoeffer writes, The relation of Christ to the church is twofold. Christ is the foundation, the cornerstone, the pioneer, the master builder. But Christ is also at all times a real presence for the church, for it is Christ’s body, and the people are members of this body . . . or members of Christ himself. . . . Where the body of Christ is, there Christ truly is. Christ is in the church-community, as the church-community is in Christ. . . . The church is the presence of Christ in the same way that Christ is the presence of God. The New Testament knows a form of revelation, “Christ existing as church-community.”137

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In other words, Christ both reveals the church and is revealed in the church. He both establishes and sustains the church. While on the surface, these two things might seem obvious, the implications are less overt. According to Michael Mawson, Christ’s establishment of the church means that he is directly identified, albeit asymmetrically, with the church in such a way that Christology is never given way to ecclesiology.138 He traces Bonhoeffer’s thoughts from the Pauline imagery of the church as the body of Christ to the Lutheran concept of real presence in order to locate Christ within the church, not in a metaphorical sense but as a concrete reality. Mawson writes, “That Christ’s action establishes the church as the reconciled humanity means that Christ is present to and in this community in the fullest sense.”139 Bonhoeffer assuages his critics by later writing in his Ethics, “The church is nothing but that piece of humanity where Christ really has taken form.”140 The church does not replace Christ; rather, Christ exists in the church as his body. With Christ as its foundation, the church, in every way, stands in for Christ in the world. In this way, the church shares in Christ’s revelatory nature as the Word of God. Barth: The Church as the Word of God With this in the background, Barth pens his fourth volume, where he discusses the nature of the church.141 In §62, he takes on the question of the church’s being. He describes it as a community that the Holy Spirit gathers into existence within temporal reality. But more significantly, he describes the church as Christ’s “earthly-historical form of existence.”142 By this, he means that Christ’s postresurrection presence on earth takes bodily and temporal form in the shape of the church where Christ is the head. He contrasts this with the risen Son’s heavenly-historical form as the Christ that is ascended into heaven, saying, Jesus Christ also lives as the Crucified and Risen in a heavenly-historical form of existence; at the right hand of the Father, before whom He is the advocate and intercessor for all men as the Judge who was judged in their place, the One who was obedient for them all, their justification. But He does not live only and exclusively in this form, enclosed within it. He does not live only above human history on earth, addressing Himself to it only from above and from afar and from without. He Himself lives in a special element of this history created and controlled by Him. He therefore lives in an earthly-historical form of existence within it. This particular element of human history, this earthly-historical form of existence of Jesus Christ, is the Christian community. He is the Head of this body, the community. And it is the body which has its Head in Him. It belongs to Him, and He belongs to it. We can put it even more strongly: Because He is, it is; it is, because He is.143

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The church on earth exists in Christ, and Christ exists on earth in and as the church. This is for Barth neither a symbolic nor metaphorical statement but a christological and teleological reality, for the church on earth is derived from Christ.144 It is not a mere creation of human efforts, such as a society or an organization that exists for its own purposes.145 The church is the community that is established, raised, and sent by Christ through the power of the Spirit, and its very being is tied to the being of Christ. For Barth, the church can be no less than the provisional representation of Christ and his work of the “sanctification of all men as it has taken place in Him, of the new humanity reconciled with God.”146 In essence, the church is the revealed Word that exists on earth. This concept of the church informs one’s understanding of the role it plays in the process of revelation. The church must not be conflated with Christ, for Barth maintains Christ’s transcendence and freedom above the church, but at the same time, it must be something more than a mere conduit or vehicle for delivering a message. Instead, the church must be seen in its capacity to be the revelation and, therefore, the reconciliation of God as much as this is true for proclamation and Scripture. Again, this must be understood in the context of its provisionality. In and of itself, the church is not the revelation of God, nor does the church directly reconcile humanity to God.147 Yet, Barth’s ecclesiology cannot be discussed apart from his doctrine of reconciliation, for, as Bender points out, “The doctrine of reconciliation itself is the context for Barth’s developed ecclesiology.”148 Not only does the church have a message of reconciliation, the church in its being as a gathered community of the redeemed is also provisionally the message of reconciliation. Within the life of the communio sanctorum, which is at the same time the communio peccatorum, there is active movement from Adam to Christ, from the old creation to the new. The church is the space where the reconciliation of God takes place, again and again, where those “who have already heard, have already repented, have already received baptism and yet are still and again and again heathens in all this, in need of divine repetition and therefore also in need of the repetition of the Church’s ministry, of renewed preaching, of repeated repentance, of the confirmation of the baptism received.”149 In this church, which is the community of the redeemed, God reveals his ministry of reconciliation with his people, and the church becomes the revelation of God. CONCLUSION It is of paramount importance that we allow Barth to speak on his own terms toward mission. The basis for his theology of crisis was the missionary

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consciousness against the tide of modern liberalism, and this has had profound consequences on his subsequent developments. Scholars such as Aaggard, Scott, Berkhof, Congdon, and others have observed that Barth’s works operate according to this missionary impulse. If the claims that Barth did not have a theology of mission are to carry any weight, it is because, on the one hand, his contemporaries were operating under certain constrained notions that did not consider his lines of inquiry to fall into their definitions of mission, and on the other hand, Barth himself was susceptible to those same definitions. His delineation between mission and the other activities of the church in §72 reflects this shortcoming. However, when read through the renewed lens of contemporary missiological reflection, his entire corpus has a great deal to say toward the matter. Of particular significance is Barth’s doctrine of revelation. It is a necessary corrective to reconstructing a theology of mission and the foundation upon which the rest of his works stand. This is evident in The Epistle to the Romans and is a constant thread throughout his subsequent works. In this writing, Barth demonstrates revelation as a concept of mission wherein God makes himself known through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Consequently, the believers are made emissaries of God’s revelation. This thought is carried into the Church Dogmatics, where Barth broadens the scope of revelation to be summed up in the incarnation of Christ, and the church is to be a witness to that revelation and, therefore, the reconciliation of God. If one is to understand mission as an act of God, then, according to Barth, it must be a gracious act of revelation, one that is centered on Christ and realized through the Holy Spirit. It means free and unmerited grace to the human in the form of Jesus Christ as the revealed Word of God. It is given to humanity and for humanity so that they may be reconciled to God through the incarnation, death, and resurrection of the Son. Thus, the trinitarian basis for mission that is supposed in the missio Dei is found in the very nature of the God who reveals himself through himself. Barth’s prioritization of God’s transcendence solves the problem of Hartenstein’s anthropocentrism, which was explored in the last chapter, and recovers the basis of mission by grounding it in God’s trinitarian movement toward humanity. What is more, Barth’s threefold form of the Word of God demonstrates the significance of the church’s role in mission. Revelation does not occur without the church but takes place through the church, in the church, and as the church, which is the space where revelation’s threefold form of the Word of God is preached, written, and revealed. The task of preaching and reading the Scripture falls upon the church as it exists as Christ’s historical presence on earth mediating his actual self-revealing. The church is the space where God reveals himself, and his mission unfolds by making revelation intelligible. Thus, the church participates in mission through its existence as the

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revelatory community of God. This ecclesiological understanding, then, sets up the understanding of mission as a concept of person through Bonhoeffer’s supplement to Barth’s theology of revelation, which is developed in chapters 4 and 5. NOTES 1. Waldron Scott, Karl Barth’s Theology of Mission (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1978), 9. 2. Joseph L. Mangina (Karl Barth: Theologian of Christian Witness [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004], 29) describes Barth as someone who “seeks to do theology ‘according to revelation,’” and Scott (Karl Barth’s Theology of Mission, 30) describes revelation as Barth’s “prolegomena to dogmatics.” For Marc Cortez (“What Does It Mean to Call Karl Barth a ‘Christocentric’ Theologian?” Scottish Journal of Theology 60, no. 2 [2007]: 6–7) Barth’s christocentric theology begins with the selfrevelation of Christ. 3. For example, see John G. Flett, The Witness of God: The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of Christian Community (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010); Wessel Bentley, “Karl Barth’s Understanding of Mission: The Church in Relationship,” Verbum et Ecclesia 30, no. 1 (July 2009): 25–49; and Kyle A. Roberts, “The Church as ‘Witness’: Karl Barth and the Missional Church,” in Karl Barth and the Future of Evangelical Theology, ed. Christian T. Collins Winn and John L. Drury (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2014), 206–27. 4. Hanna Reichel, “Barth on the Church in Mission,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Karl Barth, ed. George Hunsinger and Keith L. Johnson, vol. 1, Barth and Dogmatics (Newark, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2020), 327–28. The material sense refers to the church’s historical activity of foreign missionary work. The formal sense refers to the church’s purpose—i.e., to bear witness to the gospel. The literal sense refers to the description of the church as being in mission. The theological sense moves beyond ecclesiology to address the trinitarian economy of sending. 5. Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, trans. Edwyn C. Hoskyns (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 30. 6. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 31. 7. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 31. 8. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 63 and 65. 9. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 72. The quotation has been modified from the original translation to avoid any usage of archaic English. 10. Barth writes this within the larger context of Rom 2:17–24. 11. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 72–73. The quotation has been modified from the original. 12. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 278. 13. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 277. 14. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 332.

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15. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 333. 16. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 333. 17. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 334. 18. Roberts, “Church as ‘Witness,’” 213. 19. Flett, Witness of God, 86. 20. Karl Barth, “Die Theologie und die Mission in der Gegenwart,” in Theologische Fragen und Antworten (Zollikon-Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag, 1957), 100. 21. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 101 (emphasis in the original). 22. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 101 (emphasis in the original). 23. Barth’s thoughts regarding mission to those outside the church can be traced to his The Göttingen Dogmatics: Instruction in the Christian Religion(ed. Hannelotte Reiffen, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley, vol. 1 [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991], 1:150. Here, he argues that “pagans are not to be regarded only as an object of mission” (emphasis added). Barth suggests the possibility of revelation outside of the Christian tradition by stating, “We have properly no reason to maintain the absoluteness of Christianity. It is revelation that is absolute.” However, he continues to state that revelation cannot take place apart from the cross and resurrection, thereby refuting any notions of universalism or natural theology: “We must remember what we must find in such nonbiblical witnesses to revelation . . . the one revelation at all events, that is, indirect communication of the hidden God who is as such the revealed God, God’s encounter with us, and hence the cross and the resurrection, offense and faith.” 24. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 105. 25. Flett, Witness of God, 108. 26. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 119. 27. Here, too, Barth’s thoughts can be traced back to his previous attempts in Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf: Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes Prolegomena zur christlichen Dogmatik 1927 (vol. 14 of Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe, ed. Gerhard Sauter [Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1982], 33ff). Barth describes the task of dogmatics as providing the right content for Christian speech [Rede]. Further, this speech necessarily takes on a missional character, for the church’s proclamation can be none other than God’s speech: “Here not man’s word but God’s own word is proclaimed in the shell and through the means of man’s word. This characterizes, and is the basis of, the commission, the responsibility and credibility of what is done here by people, that God himself acts here, acts by addressing people, by himself telling people what is to be said about the relationship between God and man. The right content of Christian speech, understood in its pure form as ecclesiastical proclamation, is the speech of God, the Word of God. Ecclesiastical proclamation is a venture undertaken to ensure that he, as whose messenger or herald man is speaking here, stands with his authority completely behind him and stands up for him, that his mission (this speaking wants to be completely a mission) is confirmed as such, that he follows with his own word that of man, as it were, on his heels, yes, that, in that man speaks here, his own word is spoken” (39). 28. Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Introduction to the Theology of Karl Barth (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001), x.

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29. George Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth: The Shape of His Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 28. 30. See, for example, Jacques Rossel, “From a Theology of Crisis to a Theology of Revolution?: Karl Barth, Mission and Missions,” Ecumenical Review 21, no. 3 (July 1969): 204–15; Scott, Karl Barth’s Theology of Mission; and Roberts, “Church as ‘Witness.’” 31. CD I/1 (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol. 1, edited by G. W. Bromiley and Thomas F. Torrance [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1977]), 3. Barth refers to mission in the context of ministering to the poor and sick and to acts of propagating the Christian message to other religions—e.g., CD I/2, 298, 336, and 422. In contrast, §22 of the English edition of Church Dogmatics also translates Auftrag as mission— i.e., “The Mission of the Church”—though it may be better translated as “task” since this section is in the context of preaching. Barth reserves the language of mission for ministries directed outside of the church. 32. CD IV/3.2, 874. 33. See Karl Barth, KD IV/3 (Die kirchliche Dogmatik, vol. 3 [Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1980]), 1002. 34. CD IV/3.2, 872. Home missions, also known as inner missions, was a nineteenth-century German renewal movement established by Johann Hinrich Wichern that aimed to reach “the masses within Christendom who have fallen under the dominion of those evils which result directly and indirectly from sin.” Jeremiah Franklin Ohl, The Inner Mission: A Handbook for Christian Workers (Philadelphia: General Council Publication House, 1913), 13. 35. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 101–2. According to Jacques Rossel, this notion of mission “was not modified by [Barth] later on” between 1932 and 1959 (“From a Theology of Crisis,” 207). 36. CD IV/3.2, 874–78. 37. CD IV/3.2, 875. 38. This also included atheism, which Barth saw, according to Kimlyn Bender, united with religion as “two variations of one rebellion against God” (Kimlyn J. Bender, “Karl Barth and the Question of Atheism,” Theology Today 70, no. 3 [2013]: 271). See also Barth’s response “The Rationality of Discipleship” to atheist Max Bense’s “The Necessity of Atheism at the Present Day” in Karl Barth, Fragments Grave and Gay, ed. Martin Rumscheidt, trans. Eric Mosbacher (London: Collins, 1971), 40–47. 39. Rossel, “From a Theology of Crisis,” 208. 40. CD IV/3.2, 681. 41. CD IV/3.2, 768 (emphasis added). 42. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 115. 43. CD IV/3.2, 768 (emphasis added). 44. CD IV/3.2, 762. 45. CD IV/3.2, 762. 46. CD IV/3.2, 792. Cf. Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 333, where Barth takes a more critical tone toward the parabolic likeness between God and humanity, whereas he is more accommodating in the Church Dogmatics.

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47. Among others, this theme of Barth and witness can be notably traced in Darrell Guder’s body of work—including Be My Witnesses: The Church’s Mission, Message, and Messengers (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1985); Darrell L. Guder, The Continuing Conversion of the Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000); and Darrell L. Guder (ed.), Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998)—as well as Flett’s Witness of God. 48. CD IV/3.2, 575. 49. CD IV/3.2, 575. 50. CD IV/3.2, 577–93. 51. CD IV/3.2, 577. 52. CD IV/3.2, 576. For Guder, this means that witness is not just limited to the verbal communication of the gospel but instead encompasses and defines the entirety of Christian life. The understanding of witness (martyria) is what he calls an overarching term that draws together proclamation (kerygma), community (koinonia), and service (diakonia). See Guder, Continuing Conversion, 52ff. 53. Trevor Hart, “The Word, the Words and the Witness: Proclamation as Divine and Human Reality in the Theology of Karl Barth,” Tyndale Bulletin 46, no. 1 (1995): 81. 54. Eberhard Busch, The Great Passion: An Introduction to Karl Barth’s Theology, ed. Darrell L. Guder and Judith J. Guder, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 61. 55. CD II/1, 190. Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction, trans. Grover Foley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1963), 165, writes, “Anyone who desires to do this [theological] work cannot proceed by building with complete confidence on the foundation of questions that are already settled, results that are already achieved, or conclusions that are already arrived at. He cannot continue to build today in any way on foundations that were laid yesterday by himself, and he cannot live today in any way on the interest from a capital amassed yesterday. His only possible procedure every day, in fact every hour, is to begin anew at the beginning.” 56. Karl Barth, How I Changed My Mind, ed. John D. Godsey (Richmond, VA: John Knox, 1966), 43. 57. Quash, “Revelation,” 328–32. While Barth’s concern was laid against liberal Protestantism, the tendency of “objectivism” is also observed in Fundamentalist notions of the authority of Scripture and Roman Catholic notions of church tradition. See Avery Dulles, Models of Revelation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1992), 27–28. 58. Ben Quash, “Revelation,” in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology, ed. John Webster, Kathryn Tanner, and Iain Torrance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 329. 59. CD I/1, 296. 60. CD I/1, 295–96 (emphasis added). 61. CD I/1, 304ff. 62. CD I/1, 314 (emphasis added). 63. Bromiley, Theology of Karl Barth, 14 (emphasis added). 64. CD I/1, 320. 65. CD I/1, 315.

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66. CD I/1, 304. 67. The argument presented here proceeds on the premise that there is more continuity than disjuncture between Barth’s early and later works. For instance, Barth draws a connection between revelation and election: “He is not merely the revelation of the mystery of God. He is the thing concealed within this mystery, and the revelation of it is the revelation of Himself and not of something else. . . . And so He is not only the Elected. He is also Himself the Elector, and in the first instance His election must be understood as active.” Barth then continues by framing election within a trinitarian framework: “It is true that as the Son of God given by the Father to be one with man, and to take to Himself the form of man, He is elected. It is also true that He does not elect alone, but in company with the electing of the Father and the Holy Spirit. But He does elect. The obedience which He renders as the Son of God is, as genuine obedience, His own decision and electing, a decision and electing no less divinely free than the electing and decision of the Father and the Holy Spirit. Even the fact that He is elected corresponds as closely as possible to His own electing. In the harmony of the triune God He is no less the original Subject of this electing than He is its original object. And only in this harmony can He really be its object, i.e., completely fulfil not His own will but the will of the Father, and thus confirm and to some extent repeat as elected man the election of God. This all rests on the fact that from the very first He participates in the divine election; that that election is also His election; that it is He Himself who posits this beginning of all things; that it is He Himself who executes the decision which issues in the establishment of the covenant between God and man; that He too, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, is the electing God” (CD II/2, 104–5). 68. See Bromiley, Theology of Karl Barth, xi; and Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth, 27–30. 69. Barth, Göttingen Dogmatics, 1:155. According to Bruce McCormack, Barth’s early work in The Epistle to the Romans was not interested in the incarnation as the locus of revelation, for “he saw too many potential problems arising from treating the solution to the problem of the knowledge of God in this way. So he restricted his focus to . . . the event of the cross.” See Bruce McCormack, Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology: Its Genesis and Development, 1909–1936 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 253–54. 70. Gustaf Wingren, Theology in Conflict: Nygren, Barth, Bultmann, trans. Eric H. Wahlstrom (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1958), 109. 71. CD I/1, 119. 72. Hart, “Revelation,” 42. 73. Hart, “Revelation,” 54. 74. CD I/1, 139. 75. CD I/1, 141–42. Bromiley uses the language “to aim at” and “to smite” to describe the Word’s action toward humanity. However, this rendering does not best serve the context in which they are found. In the first case, “to aim at” leaves an ambiguous meaning to the reader. Barth likely intended to say that God had humanity on his mind, so it may be more effectively translated as “to regard, consider, or think of.” In the second case, Bromiley’s rendering of “to smite” connotes the notion of

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divine judgment, whereas the context in which it is found makes no such reference. G. T. Thompson’s first edition translation of CD renders this as “to touch”: “The Word of God is . . . the Word which aims at and touches us in our existence.” See Karl Barth, The Doctrine of the Word of God, vol. 1, part 1, Church Dogmatics, trans. G. T. Thompson (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1936), 160. In this case, the more neutral translation “to meet” is preferred. 76. Bromiley, Theology of Karl Barth, 8. 77. CD I/1, 144. 78. CD I/1, 142. 79. Karl Barth, “untitled chapter,” in Revelation, ed. John Baillie and Hugh Martin (London: Faber and Faber, 1937), 49. 80. Barth, “untitled chapter,” 53. 81. CD I/1, 168. 82. CD I/2, 43. 83. Robert M. Doran, The Trinity in History: A Theology of the Divine Missions, vol. 1, Missions and Processions (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012), 40. 84. Doran, Trinity in History, 1:42 (emphasis added). The divine missions are characterized as external, temporal, and consequent. The external term is God’s very own creation that Scripture describes as being from God and to which the Son and Holy Spirit are sent. It is also the reality where God is not distant from the world but is active in the world. This external term is “expressed in relational terms” (Doran, Trinity in History, 1:54), meaning that the relations of paternity, filiation, active spiration, and passive spiration that are self-contained within God are replicated with this new external term. As the Son proceeds from the Father and the Spirit is spirated from the Father and the Son, so too is the Son sent by the Father, and the Spirit is sent by the Father and the Son. But whereas the eternal processions occur within God’s eternal being, the temporal missions require the created term external to Godself. In other words, the divine missions compose God’s being sent from and sent to, whereas the divine processions require God’s proceeding from but without a proceeding to. It is this “being sent to” that distinguishes the divine missions from processions. If the divine missions are identical to the divine processions, then mission must also be attributed as a divine aspect of God’s being. In other words, God’s being is in mission. It is not a momentary act toward the world but an eternal relation to the world. The temporality of mission is consequent of the external term rather than the finiteness of mission itself. In essence, the divine missions are identical with the divine processions but with the added external term. 85. CD II/2, 13–14. 86. CD II/2, 3. 87. CD II/2, 115. 88. CD II/2, 115. Cf. CD IV/1, 170: “The grace and work and revelation of God has the particular character of election.” 89. Bruce McCormack, “Grace and Being: The Role of God’s Gracious Election in Karl Barth’s Theological Ontology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, ed. John Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 94–95 (emphasis in the original).

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90. CD II/1, 257. 91. Eberhard Jüngel, God’s Being Is in Becoming: The Trinitarian Being of God in the Theology of Karl Barth, trans. John Webster (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001), 14. 92. CD II/2, 7 (emphasis added). 93. Jüngel, God’s Being Is in Becoming, 15 (emphasis in the original). See CD IV/1, 157ff. 94. CD I/1, xiii. 95. CD I/1, 121. 96. CD I/1, 121. 97. Barth emphasizes the sacramental act above the objects themselves to proclaim God’s revelation. “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26, emphases added). 98. CD I/1, 133. 99. Busch, Great Passion, 43. 100. John Yocum, Ecclesial Mediation in Karl Barth (London: Routledge, 2016), xx. 101. Thomas Christian Currie, The Only Sacrament Left to Us: The Threefold Word of God in the Theology and Ecclesiology of Karl Barth (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2015), 9. 102. Currie, Only Sacrament Left to Us, 9–10. 103. CD I/1, 89. 104. CD I/1, 52. 105. Cf. Kimlyn J. Bender, “Barth on the Church,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Karl Barth, vol. 1, Barth and Dogmatics, ed. George Hunsinger and Keith L. Johnson (Newark, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2020), 245. 106. CD I/1, 90. 107. CD I/1, 93–94. 108. Cf. Bender, “Barth on the Church,” 245. 109. CD I/2, 743. 110. CD I/2, 744. 111. CD I/2, 746. 112. Martha Moore-Keish, “Barth on the Lord’s Supper,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Karl Barth, vol. 1, Barth and Dogmatics, ed. George Hunsinger and Keith L. Johnson (Newark, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2020), 280. 113. CD I/2, 227. 114. CD I/1, 102. 115. CD I/1, 101. 116. CD I/2, 588. 117. CD I/2, 588. 118. Cf. Tom Greggs, “Barth and Patristic Theology,” in The Oxford Handbook of Karl Barth, ed. Paul Dafydd Jones and Paul T. Nimmo (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019). 119. CD I/2, 589. 120. Kimlyn J. Bender, Karl Barth’s Christological Ecclesiology (London: Routledge, 2016), 81.

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121. CD I/2, 579. 122. CD I/1, 111. 123. CD I/1, 119–20. 124. Hart, “Word, the Words and the Witness,” 85. 125. See, for example, Andreas Pangritz, Karl Barth in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, trans. Barbara Rumscheidt and Martin Rumscheidt (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000); and Andreas Pangritz, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: ‘Within, Not Outside, the Barthian Movement,’” in Bonhoeffer’s Intellectual Formation: Theology and Philosophy in His Thought, ed. Peter Frick (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 245–82. 126. Karl Barth, Letters 1961–1968, ed. Jürgen Fangmeier and Hinrich Stoevesandt, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981), 252. 127. For a detailed account of Bonhoeffer’s critique of Barth, see Michael P. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation: Berlin, Barth, and Protestant Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 36–82. 128. CD IV/2, 641. 129. Matthew Puffer, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the Theology of Karl Barth,” in Karl Barth in Conversation, ed. W. Travis McMaken and David W. Congdon (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2014), 50–58. 130. CD IV/2, 641. 131. Clifford J. Green, editor’s introduction to DBWE 1 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church, vol. 1 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998]), 1. 132. Clifford J. Green, Bonhoeffer: A Theology of Sociality, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999). 133. Jennifer M. McBride (“Christ Existing as Concrete Community Today,” Theology Today 71, no. 1 [2014]: 92), describes this as the “definitive concept in Bonhoeffer’s corpus.” 134. DBWE 1, 125. 135. DBWE 1, 127. 136. McBride, “Christ Existing as Concrete Community Today,” 93. 137. DBWE 1, 139–41. 138. Michael Mawson, Christ Existing as Community: Bonhoeffer’s Ecclesiology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), stands against those who claim that Sanctorum Communio lacks a robust Christology. Cf. Ernst Feil, The Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, trans. Martin Rumscheidt (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985), 61–64. 139. Mawson, Christ Existing as Community, 127. 140. DBWE 6 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, vol. 6 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005]), 97. 141. Puffer, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the Theology of Karl Barth,” 55–58, cites numerous instances from III/1 to IV/2 where Barth refers to Bonhoeffer. Most significant for this section is his claim that “Barth proceeds to incorporate Bonhoeffer’s exposition of the creedal communio sanctorum, this time expanding upon the concept of ‘upbuilding’ as essential to the church’s being in action” (57).

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142. CD IV/1, 661. 143. CD IV/1, 661. In this respect, Barth stands closer to Bonhoeffer and the Lutheran notion of the genus majestaticum over but not entirely against the Reformed extra Calvinisticum. Cf. “Lectures of Christology,” DBWE 12 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Berlin: 1932–1933, vol. 12 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Larry L. Rasmussen [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009]), 318–323. For Barth’s critique of the extra Calvinisticum, see McCormack, “Grace and Being,” 95ff.; and Darren O. Sumner, “The Twofold Life of the Word: Karl Barth’s Critical Reception of the Extra Calvinisticum,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 15, no. 1 (January 2013): 42–57. 144. CD IV/1, 663–66. 145. CD IV/2, 654. Barth also states in II/2, 198, “As the crucified Messiah of Israel He is also the secret Lord of the Church which by His self-giving to live by His mercy and believe in His promise God founds as the graciously coming (and abiding) form of His community.” Cf. Bonhoeffer in DBWE 1, 252ff. 146. CD IV/2, 654. 147. CD IV/2, 655. Barth describes the church in II/2 as having a mediate and mediating function: “[The church’s] election is to be described as mediate and mediating in respect of its mission and function. It is mediate, that is, in so far as it is the middle point between the election of Jesus Christ and (included in this) the election of those who have believed, and do and will believe, in Him. It is mediating in so far as the relation between the election of Jesus Christ and that of all believers (and vice versa) is mediated and conditioned by it. . . . The election that has taken place takes place in Jesus Christ is mediated, conditioned and bounded by the election of the community” (CD II/2, 196–97). 148. Bender, Barth’s Christological Ecclesiology, 130. 149. Barth, “Theologie und die Mission,” 101.

Chapter 4

Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Person of Mission

While Hartenstein’s point of departure for the missio Dei was in Barth’s doctrine of revelation, its development stands at a distance from the conclusions that stem from his theology. Hartenstein’s predilection for the roles of religion and eschatology relies on anthropocentric frameworks to understand mission against Barth’s aversion to any hint of natural theology. The previous chapter demonstrated this distance by allowing Barth to speak on his terms about revelation and mission. This chapter considers Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s development of revelation as a concept of person and his understanding of Christ existing as church community, which furthers Barth’s thesis and achieves what the missio Dei initially set out to accomplish. Like Barth, Bonhoeffer is charged as having no formal theology of mission. If this is indeed the case, it is because, according to Richard Bliese, “Lutherans have suffered from a painful divorce between their systematic theology and their mission theology . . . from their inception, like two trains passing in the night.”1 While studies on Bonhoeffer may not have produced a formal theology of mission per se, his life and works speak otherwise. His critique of the German Church’s captivity to the Völkische movement, his involvement in numerous ecumenical conversations, his engagement with other religions, and his impact on liberation theology—which all hang on his christocentric ecclesiology—demonstrate the significance of Bonhoeffer’s influence over conversations regarding mission theology today. Much of Bonhoeffer’s theology has been influenced by Barth’s works, even if he did not always agree with his conclusions. When Bonhoeffer was beginning his academic career at the University of Tübingen in 1923, Barth had already published his second edition of Romans. However, it was not until 1924 that he “discovered” Barth’s works that to him were “like a liberation” from the dominant theological liberalism of his day.2 Along with Romans, Bonhoeffer also had the opportunity to read The Word of God and 121

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the Word of Man (1924) and even had access to the Göttingen lectures. As a result, Bonhoeffer quickly soon moved away from his liberal theological upbringing in order to search for a theology of his own with each point of connection. While Barth’s influence was significant on Bonhoeffer, this did not mean that there was agreement on all accounts. His influence did lead the young Bonhoeffer away from his more instinctive theological training in German liberalism and toward a more Barthian posture. However, more important than the points where they agreed, it was in their points of contention that Bonhoeffer was able to give rise to some of his most significant contributions to theology. His early career was notably marked by his interactions with Barth’s works, especially in his doctoral dissertations Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being. Andreas Pangritz describes Sanctorum Communio as “Bonhoeffer’s attempt at completing Barth’s ‘theology of revelation’ with respect to sociality.”3 Though he was thoroughly in the Barthian camp, Bonhoeffer was also not afraid to be critical of Barth’s theology when it was necessary. Act and Being shows one of the earliest signs of this in his reactions against Barth’s actualism, “warning [Barth] of the dangers of his transcendental philosophy . . . to persuade him of his own belief . . . that, despite everything, God was accessible.”4 Nonetheless, Bonhoeffer never lost his Barthian instincts. According to Eberhard Bethge, “There is no doubt that as far as [Bonhoeffer’s] independent and creative mind offered itself to contemporary influence, Bonhoeffer sided with none more readily than with Barth,”5 and even claims that Bonhoeffer viewed his criticisms as “coming from within, not without, the Barthian movement.”6 According to Pangritz, “Bonhoeffer’s intention was not to overcome Barth’s theology but to develop some aspects within Barth’s approach in a way, which had not yet been carried out by Barth himself.”7 Barth confirms as much in his reception of Bonhoeffer in the fourth volume of the Church Dogmatics when he acknowledges the relevance of Sanctorum Communio to his own line of thinking.8 Even Bonhoeffer’s concept of person seeps through in Barth’s later addresses regarding revelation. It is important to consider here that Bonhoeffer’s engagement with Barth’s works, particularly the critical response in Act and Being regarding Barth’s interpretation of revelation, is based mainly on Barth’s earlier writings. Act and Being was accepted in 1930, two years before the first volume of the Church Dogmatics had even been published. Any interpretations made by Bonhoeffer must take this into consideration.9 Bonhoeffer’s concept of person is significant because it realizes Barth’s doctrine of revelation within concrete historical reality. Bonhoeffer accomplishes this by addressing God, the individual, and communities as persons

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who relate to one another in mutual I-You relationships. His notion of God as the divine I sets the framework for understanding both the individual and community as reciprocal I’s because they are created in the imago Dei, thus establishing the patterns of relationality. This relational framework establishes both the basis for the mission of God and the church, for it is as person that God meets humanity. Therefore, in order to develop a theology of mission according to a doctrine of revelation, this chapter examines Bonhoeffer’s concept of person as it applies to God and the church, and its significance toward framing mission in relational terms. It argues that God reveals himself not in a momentary act or static being but in concrete personhood who is able to meet humanity concretely in history. This development will bear fruit in chapter 5 as personhood frames mission as a description of God’s eternal being. THE PERSON OF CHRIST Bonhoeffer’s concept of person is crucial to understanding his contributions to mission theology because it is a concept for interpreting revelation. Studies in Bonhoeffer’s theology have offered various central and unifying themes that encompass his academic career under the labels of Christology, sociality, reality, freedom, and trinitarian revelation, and justification, to name a few. In truth, the themes presented are not isolated thoughts but are all essentially interconnected in Bonhoeffer’s theology. However, if one unifying theme is to capture the whole, the strongest case proposed is to understand his works through the concept of person. According to Michael DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s theology of person “remained constant despite the sometimes radical changes in his life and thought.”10 The concept of person takes into account most, if not all, of the other centralizing themes. By building upon Barth’s theology of revelation, one can formulate a theology of mission from Bonhoeffer’s revelatory concept of person. The concept of person is central to Bonhoeffer’s entire body of thought. It is central to the argument found in his initial entry onto the theological radar, Sanctorum Communio,11 a study that ultimately leads to his understanding of the Christian community. Subsequently, his later writings find their footing in the developments made in this doctoral dissertation. His writings, such as Creation and Fall, Ethics, and Letters and Papers from Prison, trace their foundations to this early work.12 The concept of person is also central to his habilitation, Act and Being, where he sets out to further develop the idea as the unity and synthesis of act concepts and being concepts of revelation. His habilitation provides a more robust formulation of the concept of person proposed in Sanctorum Communio, and arguably the logic of Act and Being

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precedes that of the former work.13 In this way, Act and Being sets up the concept of person found in Sanctorum Communio and his other works and serves as the point of departure for understanding his concept of person.14 This section investigates the concept of person, first as a concept of understanding the revelation of God in Christ, and second as it relates to the church’s constitution as being made in the image of God. Person as the Unity of Act and Being The critical theological investigation of Act and Being surrounds the question of act and being as concepts of revelation. The doctrine of revelation plays a central part in Bonhoeffer’s argument, and the problem of act and being is of theological significance. According to him, “All of theology, in its teaching concerning knowledge of God, of human beings, and of sin and grace, crucially depends on whether it begins with the concept of act or of being.”15 According to DeJonge, Bonhoeffer juxtaposes these terms philosophically and theologically to describe opposing concepts of knowing in basic, formal, and oppositional terms.16 As such, the terms “act” and “being” are used not as things in themselves but as descriptive tools that juxtapose two contrasting frameworks for understanding epistemological and ontological realities. In his introductory chapter, Bonhoeffer frames the problem of act and being in the context of revelation: At the heart of the problem is the struggle with the formulation of the question that Kant and idealism have posed for theology. It is a matter of the formation of genuine theological concepts, the decision one comes to between a transcendental-philosophical and an ontological interpretation of theological concepts. It is a question of the “objectivity” of the concept of God and an adequate concept of cognition, the issue of determining the relationship between “the being of God” and the mental act which grasps that being. In other words, the meaning of “the being of God in revelation” must be interpreted theologically, including how it is known, how faith as act, and revelation as being, are related to one another and, correspondingly, how human beings stand in light of revelation.17

Already, Bonhoeffer alludes to the solution he offers as an alternative to act and being. Nevertheless, it is essential to ground these concepts and identify the problems he has with either approach to understanding revelation before attempting to grasp his alternative approach, which he refers to as the concept of person.

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Act and Being in Philosophy Act and Being begins with a critique of the philosophical theories of knowledge by attributing the transcendental and idealistic traditions represented by Immanuel Kant, Georg W. F. Hegel, and others as concepts of act and phenomenological and ontological traditions represented by Martin Heidegger, among others, as representing concepts of being. Here, epistemology seeks to understand oneself through one’s own understanding: “The I intends to understand itself by regarding itself.”18 In other words, knowledge of the self and other entities, such as God and the world, can be comprehended through the “act” of reasoning. Thus, one can claim that “[Bonhoeffer] takes the transcendental and idealist tradition . . . to represent the modern act-tradition, since it emphasizes the act of mind in constituting the being of the world.”19 Under the act-tradition, Bonhoeffer focuses on transcendental philosophy and idealism. While each is nuanced in its understanding, both share a common starting point in the act of thinking or knowing that eventuates in being. In transcendentalism, being is “in reference to knowing,”20 as to where in idealism, being is wholly dependent on the act of knowing. Bonhoeffer writes, “It is a transcendental judgment to say that the objects of my knowledge, the world, are ‘in reference to me,’ whereas in idealism the world comes about ‘through me.’”21 In idealism, the world and even God are dependent upon human thought. In both cases, being is subsumed under the primacy of the act of thinking and knowing, both epistemologically and anthropologically. The origins of human knowledge and existence are no longer located in God’s revelation but human capacity. Bonhoeffer writes, If the world comes to be through the I, then the I and God the creator exchange roles. God no longer can be the object of knowledge, but—since God is inconceivable as the creature of the I—somehow is brought into unity with the I itself. Thus, for idealism God “is” only to the extent to which I think, only insofar as in thinking, I end up with myself.22

Accordingly, God is no longer transcendent, and humanity in its capacity to reason becomes the source of all existence. This is what Bonhoeffer refers to as transcendental epistemology’s “internal contradiction.”23 Human existence finds its meaning from within itself. Bonhoeffer continues with his evaluation of the being-tradition by looking at the philosophical concepts of phenomenology and ontology. According to Bonhoeffer, “It is the concern of true ontology to demonstrate the primacy of being over against consciousness and to uncover this being.”24 For Bonhoeffer, phenomenology does not overcome any of the problems faced by idealism. Based on the works of Edmund Husserl and Max Scholar, phenomenology

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fails to “secure being’s independence from thought” and thereby lead “down the road of idealism.”25 Bonhoeffer then turns to Heidegger and his ontology of Dasein and finds the answer to the problem of the dichotomy between act and being. For Bonhoeffer, Dasein successfully solves, philosophically, the problem of the separation between act and being. However, he is still theologically unsatisfied with this formulation and with ontology in its relationship to revelation, for it is still dependent upon the self as the source of knowledge rather than an external revelatory source. He writes, “Heidegger’s philosophy is a consciously atheistic philosophy of finitude. Everything in it is related to the fact that finitude is enclosed in itself through Dasein.”26 As a result, “no room has been left for the concept of revelation.”27 Under this ontological category, no room is left for God in the process of knowing. DeJonge writes, No philosophy can solve the problem of act and being in a theologically satisfactory way because philosophy thinks from the self rather than from revelation. Moreover, since Bonhoeffer defines philosophy as thinking oriented “from the self,” in contrast to theology as thinking “from revelation,” philosophy’s inability to solve the problem is inherent in its character as philosophy.28

Dasein may be as close to the unity of act and being that philosophy attempts, but this, for Bonhoeffer, falls short because of its distance from revelation. Whether it is a transcendental or ontological approach, the whole discipline of philosophy does not have the capacity to solve Bonhoeffer’s problem of act and being. Revelation as Act and Being Philosophy is, for Bonhoeffer, incapable of sufficiently solving the problem of the break between act and being because of its distance from revelation. His solution is to look toward theology, where he understands revelation as the unity of act and being.29 Even in theology, however, act and being are not necessarily brought together, thereby leaving his problem intact. DeJonge summarizes this gap between act and being in “temporal, modal, and relational ways,” wherein “the formal characteristics of act and being, act means the discontinuous, contingent, and structurally open; being means the continuous, the possible, and the structurally closed.”30 According to either concept, this becomes a problem where God is “free from the power of the human knower, but is rendered unknowable,” or “becomes knowable but at the cost of becoming an object to be possessed, something within the control of the human knower.”31 With such unsatisfactory concepts of revelation, Bonhoeffer offers a third option that attempts to bring act and being together under the concept of person.

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Bonhoeffer’s critique of revelation as act is its problem of historical existence. This is because, under this category, God’s revelation exists solely as a momentary event, not bound by conditions outside of God’s self. According to this view, [Act concepts of] revelation, which places the I into truth, which gives understanding of God and the self, is a contingent event that is to be affirmed or denied only in its positivity—that is the say, received as reality; it cannot be extracted from speculations about human existence as such. Revelation is an event that has its basis in the freedom of God, positively as the self-giving or, negatively, as the self-withholding of God.32

For Bonhoeffer, this concept is represented by Barth and is the focus of the critique of act-theology found in Act and Being, wherein he “presents Barth’s theology as one that, in recognizing the general problem of transcendence, attempts to overcome being‐theology’s reduction of revelation and faith to human possibilities.”33 Here, God as the subject of revelation is free from the boundedness of “human possibility” that is found in a revelation of being: “Never is God at the disposal of human beings.”34 Barth’s critique of revelation as being is that it diminishes the transcendent nature of God, reducing revelation to historical texts and traditions, and God is limited by the human interpretations of them. Barth also upholds the boundaries between God and humanity in which God’s revelation maintains the distinction where “God remains God, and humanity remains humanity.”35 Barth writes, The relation between God and human beings, in which God’s revelation to me, to a human being, is truly imparted, would have to be free and not static in the sense that its constancy could never mean anything other than the constancy of an action that is not only continuous but in every instance beginning, in all seriousness, at the beginning. This relation should never be thought of as already given, already obtaining, nor from the viewpoint of a law of nature or a function of mathematics, but always as a matter of action [aktuell], that is, with all the instability of a deed being done right now.36

DeJonge summarizes Barth’s theology by saying, “God and humanity are in a relationship of diastasis, standing over against each other with no possibility of reconciliation in some other form of being. . . . The only thing that bridges this diastasis is God’s revelation, which is emphatically God’s rather than humanity’s action.”37 Revelation as act and the possibility of reconciliation exists solely in the hands of God. Bonhoeffer’s concern with this view of revelation is its similarity to the transcendental philosophical approaches he critiques earlier. In this case,

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God’s being is only act and, therefore, is in human beings also only as act, in such a way that all reflection upon the accomplished act takes place at a distance from it, with the result that the act cannot be grasped in conceptual form or become part of systematic thought. . . . According to Barth, no historical moment is capax infiniti, so that empirical human activity—be it faith, obedience—is at best reference to God’s activity and in its historicity can never be faith and obedience itself.38

In other words, the work that is accomplished in humans is both a momentary state of being while at the same time void of human agency. Qualities such as faith and obedience are never actually had by the human. Furthermore, they are not supported by any substance of being. Act apart from being has no ground upon which to stand. The response to the problem of act lies in the being of revelation, for according to Bonhoeffer, It would be possible to talk of God, or to know about God, and to have theology as a scholarly discipline only if revelation were not understood as pure act, if there were somehow a being of revelation outside my existential knowledge of it, outside my faith, on which my faith, my thought, my knowledge could “rest.” Like transcendental thought, the theology originating in the transcendental approach is integral to the reference of existence to transcendence . . . [and] must be passionately interested in concepts of being.39

This, however, is not without problems of its own, which Bonhoeffer finds in terms of doctrine, experience, and institution.40 In each circumstance, revelation is captured within each category, yet one cannot encounter God in them. Instead, revelation becomes dependent upon the human condition, either a belief in a system of doctrines, an experience of consciousness, or participation in an institution. Objects of being fail to be revelation because “they understand the revealed God as something existing” and as such are “not able to encounter the existence of human beings.”41 God becomes the object of knowledge that can be contained in a self-sustained system. Revelation becomes a prerequisite to faith, and the possibility for revelation already exists within human beings by becoming something that always exists for people and is at their disposal.42 Revelation as being also prevents the possibility of encountering the existence of other human beings, a topic of concern in Sanctorum Communio, where he posits the sociality of the church. Person as the Unity of Act and Being For Bonhoeffer, philosophical categories can only be expressed in terms of possibility. Attempts to understand the truth, including the truth about God, are boundlessly limited within the extent of one’s capacity of knowing.

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Thus, philosophical attempts of knowing fall short because of the limits of human possibility.43 The possibility of philosophy “means posing the question about the human being and providing the answer in one and the same act.”44 However, theology by way of act or being does not satisfy Bonhoeffer’s question of revelation either. Revelation as act removes the possibility of human beings to have God. At the same time, revelation as being ignores the transcendent source of revelation and thereby denies encounter with God: “Act is comprised of relationality, the infinitely-extensive, that which is bound to consciousness, discontinuity, and existentiality,” while “being is comprised of confinement-to-the-self, the infinitely-intensive, that which transcends consciousness, continuity.”45 Accordingly, act stands in antithesis of being and are at the same time contingent upon each other. As such, Bonhoeffer views their relationship as dialectical. He writes, Inasmuch as an interpretation of revelation in terms of act or in terms of being yields concepts of understanding that are incapable of bearing the whole weight of revelation, the concept of revelation has to be thought about within the concreteness of the conception of the church, that is to say, in terms of a sociological category in which the interpretation of act and of being meet and are drawn together into one. The dialectic of act and being is understood theologically as the dialectic of faith and the congregation of Christ. Neither is to be thought without the other; each is “taken up” or “suspended” [“aufgehoben”] in the other.46

Bonhoeffer finds both concepts in and of themselves problematic as each lacks particular characteristics that make either one untenable. Revelation that is interpreted as act maintains God’s freedom. However, it also presents “revelation as a momentary, sheer act of God . . . [that] cannot make sense of the continuous, historical aspects of the Christian life.”47 In contrast, Bonhoeffer’s understanding of God’s freedom conforms more closely to the Lutheran notion of freedom. He asserts, In revelation it is not so much a question of the freedom of God—eternally remaining within the divine self, aseity—on the other side of revelation, as it is of God’s coming out of God’s own self in revelation. It is a matter of God’s given Word, the covenant in which God is bound by God’s own actions. It is a question of the freedom of God, which finds its strongest evidence precisely in that God freely chose to be bound to historical human beings and to be placed at the disposal of human beings.48

The boundedness of God to creation and history is an essential aspect that Bonhoeffer carries into his concept of person. The problem of being in revelation is that it “understand[s] the revealed God as something existing,”

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and “what exists cannot be genuinely objective, nor encounter human existence, nor finally interpret theologically the revelation of Christ.”49 That which exists can only be had but never encountered. For Bonhoeffer, human encounter is the interpretive key to understanding God’s freedom. God is bound not to doctrines, experiences, or institutions but to humanity, that is, the church community. Even experience is a reproducible act that is “disposable” to humanity. However, revelation is for Bonhoeffer a personal encounter with God who maintains his freedom as God. Act concepts of revelation fail to ground it within the context of history and reality. It becomes variable and unreliable. Being concepts fail to understand revelation as an encounter with the revealer. It is an object to be had and controlled. Bonhoeffer finds his solution in the concept of person. The theological concept of person is the transcendent reality of revelation that runs against the possibility of philosophy. It is the unity of the act and being concepts of revelation. Within the person, Bonhoeffer reconciles act and being through their respective characteristics of faith and historical presence. According to DeJonge, “A person, unlike a subject, has historically continuous being.” At the same time, “A person, unlike an object, escapes the power of the mind and is, therefore, free to encounter existence.”50 Thus, God is not merely an object to be known or a subject that reveals through faith, but a “person” who encounters humanity and is therefore encountered by humanity. Bonhoeffer’s notion of person cannot be discussed in isolation from the church, for it is in the church that the person comes together. This is because for him, “revelation is understood . . . through a theological-sociological category.”51 This is something that began in his thought in Sanctorum Communio and continues to run through his works. In the church, act and being reveal themselves respectively in God’s act of faith and Christ’s constitutive being of the community. Faith is a grace and a gift that is bestowed from outside oneself, from God. It is only by faith that “human beings ‘have’ God.”52 What is more, faith presupposes the existence of the community of faith that is the church, for it is “conditioned and created by [the church].”53 Rather, the church’s being is “formed in reference to act of faith” by the community of faith, and faith “understands itself as the mode of being” for the person.54 In this way, the act of faith and the being of the community are brought together in dialectical unity. All this is held together under the paradigm of the church as “God’s final revelation.”55 As act, revelation is a free action of God that is outside of human doing. As being, it is grounded in the continuity of existence. The church is where both are held together. God reveals himself in the church as faith and community, not just in general terms but in the person of Jesus Christ, the revelation of God, who exists as the church community. With this concept of person in mind, it is possible to comprehend Bonhoeffer’s understanding of the church in Sanctorum Communio.

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Person as Christ Existing as Church Community Bonhoeffer’s 1927 dissertation, Sanctorum Communio, sets out to “gain a systematic understanding of the community-structure of the Christian church” by developing a Christian concept of person.56 He accomplishes this by first addressing the question of God by understanding him as person. Bonhoeffer writes, “What one understands about person and community simultaneously makes a decisive statement about the concept of God. The concepts of person, community, and God are inseparably and essentially interrelated. . . . We must make constant reference to the concept of God in order to come to a well-grounded view of both God and the concept of community.”57 Thus, Bonhoeffer begins by locating the concept of person within the concrete situation of time and history where individuals encounter the limits of existence and the boundaries of humanity. He contrasts this concept against the Aristotelian metaphysics of the collective state, the Stoic individualism of reason, the egocentrism of Epicurean thought, and the understanding of origins in epistemology.58 Instead, the Christian concept of person exists only in the “ethical-social interaction” to another as they encounter other persons at a point of decision contained in the “I-You” [Ich-Du] relationship, thus grounding personhood in concrete ethical responsibility.59 Unlike deontological or teleological frameworks that operate in abstracts or ideals, responsibility takes place in real and concrete situations in relation to other persons.60 Personhood is complete only when it is in reference to this relationship of responsibility. According to Bonhoeffer, “Human beings do not exist ‘unmediated’ qua spirit in and of themselves, but only in responsibility vis-à-vis an ‘other’. . . . For the individual to exist, ‘others’ must necessarily be there.”61 Persons are social beings existing in relation to other persons. Therefore, one can only understand personhood within those relationships. The person cannot be known in isolation, but only through their relation to another individual or collective person. The social interdependence between persons is what Bonhoeffer refers to as sociality [Sozialität]. According to Clifford Green, the concept of sociality is “programmatic for the whole of his early theology and . . . continues to inform all Bonhoeffer’s theological writing.”62 Bonhoeffer’s theological anthropology is governed according to this relationship between persons, which includes the divine person of God. He writes, “For Christian philosophy, the human person originates only in relation to the divine; the divine person transcends the human person, who both resists and is overwhelmed by the divine. . . . The Christian person originates only in the absolute duality of God and humanity.”63 What is more, through divine action, a person encounters the other as a “You.” Bonhoeffer writes,

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Every human You is an image of the divine You. You-character is in fact the essential form in which the divine is experienced; every human You bears its You-character only by virtue of the divine. . . . The divine You creates the human You. And since the human You is created and willed by God, it is a real, absolute, and holy You, like the divine You. One might then speak here of the human being as the image of God with respect to the effect one person has on another.64

Human existence is thus sustained by God’s action wherein the other is encountered in the presence of the divine You.65 As Green puts it, “God is not immanent in us, but is present to us in the social relationship. The transcendence of God means God’s presence as ‘Other.’ God is distinct from but not absent to us. . . . God is met and heard only in the real world where human, personal will encounter one another.”66 In other words, the human-divine encounter is found in the concrete experiences of social interactions, and as such, an encounter with God is an encounter of sociality. For Bonhoeffer, sociality and unbroken community are how God establishes his relationship to humanity. Community between persons is directly correlated to community with God, for “community with God by definition establishes social community. . . . Neither exists without the other.”67 Bonhoeffer finds this correlation in the Genesis narrative where the simultaneity of community between humanity and God also has consequences on humanity’s relationship with each other. Not only does their disobedience break communion with God, but it also breaks communion between humans. According to Bonhoeffer, “Losing direct community with God, they also lose—by definition—unmediated human community.”68 Then it is appropriate to apply the inverse by stating that in the absence of human community, there is also the absence of community with God.69 Encountering God means, on the one hand, an encounter as a community (as a collective person [Kollektivperson]), and on the other hand, encountering the community itself. For Bonhoeffer, this community is the church. To be more precise, it is the church as the sanctorum communio (the community of saints—that is, the community of Christ), which supersedes the peccatorum communio (the community of sinners—that is, the community of Adam). It is in the church’s communal encounter with God that God encounters humanity. The Church as the Revelation of God Bonhoeffer’s Christian concept of person must be viewed in terms of revelation, for at the outset, his aim is to “understand the structure of the given reality of a church of Christ, as revealed in Christ.”70 Questions of person, church, and sociality must therefore be answered in view of revelation. Bonhoeffer constructs the Christian concept of person in service of understanding how Christ is revealed to humanity, which “can be fully comprehended only in

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reference to sociality.”71 The question becomes for Bonhoeffer; What is the church? He answers this question by stating that the church is “simultaneously a historical community and one established by God.”72 Christiane Tietz notes the dual-pronged attempt to establish a theological nature for the church as it exists by God and at the same time in history. Even in its historicity, the church falls under the theological category because for Bonhoeffer, “the church as a historical community is . . . also grounded in God’s will.”73 To equate the church in history as a religious or an empirical community is to lose sight of the fact that “all God’s revelation, both in Christ and in the church, [are] concealed under the form of historical life.”74 In other words, the church in history exists according to God’s will in order to reveal something about God. This understanding of the church leads to the crux of the argument in Sanctorum Communio. That is, the church is “a form of revelation, ‘Christ existing as church-community.’”75 However, to understand this statement entirely, it is necessary to examine it in its parts, beginning with the former; that the church is a form of revelation. The reconciliation between God and humanity is accomplished according to God’s will in the context of history and, as the will of God, must also be realized before creation. Thus, the reconciliation of God and the completion of the church can only be realized according to revelation. Bonhoeffer writes, God’s will is always directed toward the concrete, historical human being. But this means that it begins to be implemented in history. God’s will must become visible and comprehensible at some point in history. But at the same point it must already be completed. Therefore, it must be revealed. Revelation of God’s will is necessary because the primal community, where God speaks and the word becomes deed and history through human beings, is broken. Therefore God must personally speak and act, and at the same time accomplish a new creation of human beings, since God’s word is always deed. Thus the church is already completed in Christ, just as in Christ its beginning is established.76

Though it exists in history, the church is not known according to history but according to revelation. Therefore, its eschatological reconciliation to God is also its reconciliation in the primal state.77 The reality of the church and the reconciliation in which it participates cannot be primarily a historical phenomenon but a revelatory one. This leads Bonhoeffer to conclude, “The reality of the church is the reality of revelation. . . . There is no relation to Christ in which the relation to the church is not necessarily established as well.”78 He further states, “If we, the members of the Christian church-community, are to believe that in Christ we are reconciled with God, then the mediator of this reconciliation must represent not only the reconciling divine love, but

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also at the same time the humanity that is to be reconciled, the humanity of the new Adam.”79 In other words, God and the church, the divine lover and the created beloved, are two inseparable realities that are made known in God’s revelation.80 Regarding the latter part of the statement, “Christ existing as church-community,” Bonhoeffer makes the additional step of identifying the church as Christ’s presence on earth. He begins with a brief study of the Pauline Epistles where the church is identified with Christ:81 “Christ is the foundation, the cornerstone, the pioneer, the master builder . . . [and] also at all times a real presence for the church.” Conversely, the church is the body of Christ, and “the people are members of this body . . . or members of Christ himself.”82 One can comprehend this reality only when the church is viewed as a collective person. While it is made up of many members, the church’s being is tied to the being of Christ. The personhood of Christ is therefore imparted onto the church, not in its disparate humanistic manifestations per se—whether it is at the local level of individual congregations or larger scales of denominations and traditions—but as one complete and unified body. Because of sin, the church is led to fragmentation and isolation, but it is redeemed and made whole in Christ.83 It is this church, which is the communion of saints and at the same time the communion of sinners, that Christ embodies himself within to be his presence in history. For Bonhoeffer, there is no substantive difference between Christ and the church: “‘To be in Christ’ is synonymous with ‘to be in the church-community’. . . . The church is the presence of Christ in the same way that Christ is the presence of God.”84 The church is the reality and the form of God’s revelation. Any consideration of the church must be taken from this vantage point; what is observed in history is the realization of that which has already been made complete. For Geffrey Kelly, this means that “the Church [is] an end in itself whose sole content is ‘the revelation of God in Christ.’”85 The church is the content of revelation since it is established in Christ and not an empirical possibility. At the same time, the church reveals Christ as it exists as his presence here on earth. Here, the concept of person in Act and Being takes root as the personal characteristics of revelation are located within the church. Bonhoeffer writes, “Revelation should be thought of only in reference to the concept of church, where the church is understood to be constituted by the present proclamation of Christ’s death and resurrection—within, on part of, and for the community of faith.”86 The unity of act and being is taken up not in some suppositional concept but in the concrete form of church, for it is the church that is the unity of act and being. Again, to quote Bonhoeffer, “If, however, for this reason one regarded revelation only as beginning (potentiality), and not at the same time also as completion (reality), this would take away what is decisive about the revelation of God,

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namely that God’s word became history.”87 In other words, the church as the reality and form of God’s revelation can be seen in concrete historical reality. All this is made possible only within the realization of the church, and personhood is made sense only when the church is understood as the Christ existing as community. PERSONS IN CHRIST The concept of person applies not only to Christ as the revealed Word of God but also to the church, which is the space where Christ is made known. Revelation occurs in concrete relationships, so the church that receives this revelation must be understood according to the concept of person. Bonhoeffer establishes this principle in Sanctorum Communio where he describes the church as a collective person. This is made possible only because humanity is made in the image of God and is gathered in Christ as the church community. Thus, humanity’s state of being created in God’s image, which is qualified as one of relationship, is critical to Bonhoeffer’s understanding of revelation, and so the socio-relationality of humanity becomes the space where mission occurs. Building upon his earlier works, Bonhoeffer takes up this theme during his time at the University of Berlin in his lectures using the language of the imago Dei and the analogia relationis. Both of these terms advance the understanding of mission by establishing the relational nature of the church. Persons in the Image of God Bonhoeffer served as a lecturer at the University of Berlin from 1931 to 1933, where he had the freedom to determine his course load and the topics of his lectures. During this time, Bonhoeffer situated himself in conversation with other prominent theologians and developed his christological trajectory in the courses that followed. His 1932 summer lecture, “The Nature of the Church,” revisited his ideas from Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being, where he described the church as the revelation of God existing as the present Christ.88 Bonhoeffer’s Christology was not easily separated from his ecclesiology, so much so that it served as the “magnetic . . . explosive center” of his lectures on the church.89 Likewise, in a concurrent seminar, Bonhoeffer grounded any attempt at a Christian ethic in the person of Christ, stating, “The possibility of a judgment that our actions are good lies solely in CHRIST. . . . The present Christ is the place from which our action is always determined anew.”90 The following winter semester, Bonhoeffer presented a series of lectures on Genesis 1–3, later published as Creation and Fall. The series made a particular impression on his students, for it was the only topic that he published

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at their urging. Again, Bonhoeffer’s Christology shines through even in his reading and interpretation of the Old Testament. John de Gruchy points out some features of his christocentric exegesis. First, the Old Testament “had to be read in the light of God’s self-disclosure in Jesus Christ.”91 As a part of the Christian canon, Genesis 1–3 takes on a Christ-centered meaning. Second, the creation narrative itself takes on a christocentrism as well. Christ became for Bonhoeffer “the cosmic word of God that speaks from the center of world history.”92 De Gruchy goes on to say that “Bonhoeffer’s Christ-centered anthropology is in fact the central theme of Creation and Fall.”93 While Creation and Fall took on an anthropological topic from a christocentric perspective, his following lecture in 1933 directly addressed Christology. While relying on his earlier works, the developments here set the stage for the works that followed, including Discipleship, Life Together, Ethics, and his prison writings, becoming both the “fruit of his theological endeavors up to that point and the foundation of his subsequent practical work and its diverse ramifications.”94 However, unlike other theologians at the time, Bonhoeffer’s point of departure for understanding Christ was Christ himself as Word, sacrament, and church community, and only then did he approach the historical Christ. The trajectories established in his preceding courses, such as the nature of the church as Christ existing as community, and his rejection of the theology of the orders of creation, are revisited and further developed. Christology is Bonhoeffer’s “most important theme”95 during his tenure in Berlin. Equally significant is that though he had delivered several lectures and seminars over the semesters, there are significant correlations between them that are likely meant to be understood in tandem. Specifically, his exposition of the analogia relationis in Creation and Fall finds remarkable parallels with the pro me structure in his Christology lectures. Both are fruits of his earlier development of the concept of person in Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being. According to Clifford Green, the analogia relationis is “a formulation which expresses afresh a fundamental part of his theology of sociality—the concept of the person in the I-You relationship.”96 Likewise, answering the question “Who is Christ?” with Christ as pro me (for me) proceeds only from understanding his personhood as the starting point of this inquiry. What is more, the two series of lectures may be seen as complementary as they both address not just the christocentrism in Bonhoeffer’s thinking but, more specifically, the promeity in his Christology. As such, these lectures shall be considered together.

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Creation and Fall The analogia relationis occupies only a small portion of the text in Creation and Fall but has significant implications toward Bonhoeffer’s theology of person. Here, he discusses it in the context of humanity being created in the imago Dei, where freedom is the necessary component for bearing the fullness of God’s image. Barth similarly argues for the freedom of God in the transcendence of revelation which Bonhoeffer incorporates into his concept of person in Act and Being. It is this freedom that Bonhoeffer speaks of that is reflected in humanity’s created image. It is only in humanity’s freedom that they genuinely bear the image of God, for anything less would fall short of the imago Dei and fail to give God the due praise and glory.97 However, it is necessary to understand that what Bonhoeffer means by God’s freedom is that it is something not bound by antecedent conditions, nor is it repeatable, for the repetition itself would require a precondition. Rather, God’s freedom is unrepeatable and unique. Bonhoeffer applies this to, or rather he exegetes this from, the Genesis narrative of creation where God creates ex nihilo in the fullness of his freedom.98 For instance, creation is an unrepeatable, unique, and free event of God. In contrast, human freedom is dependent upon and defined by God’s freedom because of the very fact that humans are created in God’s image. Bonhoeffer writes, “To say that in humankind God creates God’s own image on earth means that humankind is like the Creator in that it is free.”99 In other words, humanity shares in God’s freedom by being created in his image. However, Bonhoeffer does not illustrate freedom in abstraction but rather in concrete terms.100 According to him, God is not free a se but pro nobis. Freedom is not freedom in himself or freedom from others, but it is freedom for others. Bonhoeffer expresses this in Act and Being when he writes, In revelation it is not so much a question of the freedom of God—eternally remaining within the divine self, aseity—on the other side of revelation, as it is of God’s coming out of God’s own self in revelation. It is a matter of God’s given Word, the covenant in which God is bound by God’s own action. It is a question of the freedom of God, which finds its strongest evidence precisely in that God freely chose to be bound to historical human beings and to be placed at the disposal of human beings. God is free not from human beings but for them. Christ is the word of God’s freedom. God is present, that is, not in eternal nonobjectivity but . . . “haveable,” graspable in the Word within the church.101

In revealing himself, God has bound himself to those to whom he reveals. While being utterly free, God’s freedom is necessarily bound to the receiving other, where God makes himself known to the other and for the other, to human persons. Revelation is for humanity, and so God is for humanity. This carries into Bonhoeffer’s theology of creation, where if humans are

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created in the image of God, then they also share in the freedom of God for others. Ann Nickson writes, “Human beings are created to reflect that divine freedom, the ‘substantial’ freedom which Bonhoeffer had already defined in Christological terms in Act and Being as freedom for the world, a freedom which found its fullest expression, not in divine aseity, but precisely in God’s free choice to bind himself to human beings.”102 This notion is carried through to Creation and Fall and applied to human persons bearing the image of God. Bonhoeffer writes, For in the language of the Bible freedom is not something that people have for themselves but something they have for others. No one is free “in herself” or “in himself” [“an sich”]—free as it were in a vacuum . . . , freedom is a relation between two persons. Being free means “being-free-for-the-other,” because I am bound to the other. Only by being in relation with the other am I free.103

Thus, Green comes to two conclusions; that God’s being is “being-inrelation-to-us,” and reciprocally, “human existence is also fundamentally relational.”104 In this way, the analogy between God and humans is found in their relatedness to other persons in their I-You relationships. Lectures on Christology Bonhoeffer’s Christology lectures build upon what he wrote in Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being by delineating Jesus Christ in terms of person. For Bonhoeffer, the question for Christology, “Who is Christ?” can only be answered by understanding the person of Christ over the works of Christ.105 Bonhoeffer forwards Luther’s claim that Christ cannot be known according to his works, for questioning the works leads only to ambiguity in understanding the person. The only way for someone to understand the person is by “the person’s decision to reveal himself.”106 This, however, is also met with its challenges because no one can truly know a person except for God. Thus, Bonhoeffer returns to the problem of Act and Being by bringing Christ’s being and act together under the concept of person. He writes, “It would be wrong to conclude that person and works should be considered separately. We are talking here only about the connection between the knowledge of works and the knowledge of the person, not about the real connection between person and works.”107 The work of Christ cannot be separated from the person of Christ and vice versa. It is this whole person that Bonhoeffer addresses as the subject of Christology. Moreover, the person of Christ is known through his self-revelation, for “only through Christ’s own revelation do I have opened to me his person and his works.”108 This revelation is described as a real, tangible, and concrete presence that is specifically localized in the church. Bonhoeffer repudiates the notion of

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presence neither as influence, such as Christ’s teachings, nor as image, which are only shadows of the actual thing. Both influence and image are phenomenological and subject to human experience and manipulation. However, Christ’s existence in the church as person is eternally transcendent and at the same time universally and concretely present to humanity. God is present to humanity only in Jesus Christ. Revelation is given to humanity, which also means that revelation is given for humanity. Because it is given, revelation does not serve itself but only in relation to the other. As person, the Word of God is in reference to another: “The being of Christ’s person is essentially relatedness to me.”109 Christ as the Word of God exists pro-me (for me). His being for is the qualification of his personhood and the unifying principle that brings together the characteristics of act and being. God’s freedom for human beings found in Act and Being is reiterated in the Christology lectures by stating, “The very core of his person is pro-me.”110 Bonhoeffer also recalls the notion of person as the unity of act and being by saying, “What is decisive about the pro-me structure is that, with it, both the being and the works of Christ are maintained.”111 In essence, Christ as person is bound to humanity in his being for others in relationality. Christ as person allows humanity to know God and receive God’s presence. On the one hand, concepts of act with formal concepts of freedom do not allow for humanity’s relation with God. In this sense, God is not “haveable”; God stands at a distance. But as person, it is quite the opposite; God is present and haveable in the Word of revelation. On the other hand, being concepts, which locate revelation in objects or phenomena, can only be referred to but never related with. For Bonhoeffer, relationality is necessary to know Christ, for “I can never think of Jesus Christ in his being-in-himself, but only in his relatedness to me.”112 The unity of act and being in Christ as person maintains God’s freedom—that is, the freedom to choose to be bound to humanity in concrete relationality. The starting point for Bonhoeffer’s Christology is the divine humanity of Jesus Christ, which can also be expressed as the human divinity of Christ. According to him, Christ’s presence in time and space demonstrates both attributes. That Christ is present with other humans points to his humanity, while being present at all points to his divinity. Bonhoeffer writes, The presence of Jesus Christ compels the statement that Jesus is wholly human, as well as the other statement that Jesus is wholly God—otherwise he would not be present. Thus, from the presence of Christ arises the twofold certainty that he is both human being and God. Therefore it is impossible to ask how the human Jesus can be simultaneously with each of us—as if this Jesus could exist in isolation! It is just as impossible to ask how God can enter into time—as if such an isolated God could exist! The only question that makes sense is: who is present, who is with us here and now? The answer is: the human-God Jesus.

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I cannot know who the human Christ is if I do not simultaneously think of the God-Christ and vice versa. God in his timeless eternity is not God. Jesus Christ in his humanity, limited in time, is not Jesus Christ. Instead, in the human being Jesus Christ, God is God. Only in Jesus Christ is God present.113

Christ is not one thing in himself and another in his revelation to humanity. Rather, what is made known in Christ’s humanity is the very nature of his being. For Bonhoeffer, this is the fact of Christ who is pro-me; Christ who exists “for me.” It is in this way that Christ is present in the church and in the world. In Sanctorum Communio, Bonhoeffer addresses the very notion of Christ’s presence in the building up of the Christian community. Bonhoeffer argues, The sanctorum communio continues to fall again and again, it comes into being anew, passes away, and comes into being once more. . . . Yet for the sanctorum communio this movement, its repentance and faith, revolves around a fixed point: the word is what causes the church to break up into the community-of-the-cross, and through the word it is “built up” to become the Easter-community. The community of saints as the community of penitent sinners is held together by the unity of the body of Christ. In the church, as in any other community, people repent both for their own sin and for that of the collective person of the community. Now, is this collective person perhaps “Christ existing as church-community,” the body of Christ? Only insofar as God’s own self is at work in the act of repentance. It is not the community of sinners but instead the holiness of this very church-community which is “Christ existing as church-community.” The very fact that as a sinful community the church is nevertheless still holy, or rather that in this world it is never holy without also being sinful—this is what Christ’s presence in it means. It is precisely as such a community that is holy in its sinfulness that the church is “Christ existing as church-community.”114

The duality of the church as both a communion of saints and a communion of sinners is made possible by Christ’s vicarious action, who in his becoming human repents on behalf of the community and at the same time glorifies the community by being with them. In this way, God in Christ is for us: “Christus pro nobis is the Christ who reconciles me with God, and that is only possible through this stumbling block and through faith.”115 The body of Christ is exalted because he is among them. But in what way is Christ present to the church? Bonhoeffer resolves this question with the threefold pattern of Word, sacrament, and church-community, where the first two are qualified as the “vital loci of Christ’s presence”116 within the third. This ordering is simply to say that Christ is present both in the church and as the church. For Bonhoeffer, Christ as the Word means, for

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one, a word “spoken to us.” The Word is speech communicated in the direction of humanity. And in so doing, God is bound to humanity. Bonhoeffer writes, “God, of course has the freedom to walk in ways unknown to us, and the freedom to choose other ways of self-revelation. But God wanted to reveal himself in the Word. God cannot speak to human beings otherwise than through this Word. God has bound himself [to human beings].”117 The Word as speech means that it takes place between persons of ethical responsibility and not between static ideas. The Word exists not as “timeless truth, but rather as truth breaking into a concrete moment,”118 breaking into the plane of human existence. Because Christ is the Word that speaks to people, he calls for an answer that only responsible persons can give. He “effects an encounter with truth within the community” that leads toward a decision of faith.119 Likewise, Bonhoeffer views the sacraments as no different from the Word because Christ is present in both. He skirts the question of “How” Christ is in the sacraments by emphasizing “Who” it is that is in them. What he does highlight is the impact of Christ’s sacramental form in that it gives his presence a “tangible nature” that brings fullness and restoration to the “spirit-bodily existence.”120 In other words, the sacraments embody the Word. As Word and sacrament, Christ exists as person, thereby bringing together speech (act) and embodiment (being). The simultaneity of these forms is critical for his understanding of Christ and the church because he exists and is therefore present in the third form of the church community. Both Word and sacrament are captured in the church. Compared to the first two forms, his account of Christ and the church community is relatively short. However, this is only because of what has been stated prior regarding the Word and sacrament in the context of the church and is therefore applicable to the church. Bonhoeffer writes, As Word and sacrament, Christ is present as church-community. The presence of Christ as Word and sacrament is related to Christ as church-community, just as reality is related to form. Christ is the church-community by virtue of his being-pro-me. He takes action as the new humanity. The church-community, between his ascension and his second coming, is the form he takes. . . . Word exists as the word of God’s church-community, that is, it exists in time and space. It is not just the poor words of human doctrine, but the mighty Word of the Creator. By speaking, it creates the form of the church-community. Church-community is Word of God, insofar as Word of God is God’s revelation. Only because the church-community is itself Word of God can it understand the Word of God alone. Revelation can be understood only because it has been revealed. Word is in the church-community insofar as the church-community is that which receives the Word. The sacrament, too, is in the church-community and is present as church-community. It does have, beyond the Word, a bodily form. This form in

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which it becomes bodily present is the body of Christ himself, and as such it is at the same time the form of the church-community. It is not a mere image; the church-community is the body of Christ. It is so in reality. The concept of the body as applied to the church-community is not a functional concept referring to the members but is instead a concept of the way in which the Christ exists who is present, exalted, and humiliated.121

Christ as Word and sacrament must be understood as being subsumed under the category of church-community. Thus, the church, as the presence of Christ, takes on the characteristics of person through the unity of the act characteristics of speech and the being characteristics of embodiment. The church itself is the collective person of the concretely present Christ under Word and sacrament. Person​​​​​​​s in Ethical Responsibility Christ’s concrete presence in the world as the church-community has ethical implications, for it is through the revelation of God that he establishes the reality in which the church exists. Therefore, the church exists in ethically responsible relationships with God and with others as person. “Ethics” is a term that is typically associated with the determination of moral conduct. William Lillie defines it as “the normative science of the conduct of human beings living in societies—a science which judges this conduct to be right or wrong, to be good or bad, or in some similar way.”122 John Deigh posits a similar definition, adding that “its primary aim is to determine how one ought to live and what actions one ought to do in the conduct of one’s life.”123 Robin Lovin suggests that people engage in ethics—whether they know it or not—when they ask questions about what is good, right, ought, or just.124 Each of these authors demonstrates the process of moral decision-making as being primarily relegated to the two dominant ethical models of teleology and deontology throughout the history of the study of ethics. It was not until more recently that a third model emerged, giving an alternative approach through the language of responsibility. A significant proponent toward this new approach was H. Richard Niebuhr, who in 1960 began a series of lectures later published in his book, The Responsible Self, which was the culmination of over thirty years of ethical reflection. Rather than asking “What is good?” or “What is right?” Niebuhr proposed that the most appropriate question to ask was, “What is the most fitting response?”125 At the center of the responsibility model is the nature of human relationships. Charles Curran calls this the relationality-responsibility model, for it “sees the human person in multiple relationships with God, neighbor, world, and self.”126 It is a response toward the action of others upon the self that is made in “freedom and creativity”127 in

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which there is necessarily no right and wrong or good and bad but only what is the most appropriate and fitting. It is in this vein that we begin to understand Bonhoeffer’s ethics.128 His concept of person is of a being in ethical responsibility. While this is most notably displayed in his Ethics, the motif of responsibility is consistent from the very beginning of his theology since Sanctorum Communio. There he writes, “The person exists always and only in ethical responsibility . . . [and] grows out of the concrete situation.”129 Human beings exist only in reference to another as beings that act in response to the impulses acted upon them. Ethics occurs not in isolation but only by knowing oneself in relation to others, which is only possible when considered according to the dynamic interaction found between the I and You.130 This is all possible only from the position of freedom where humans can interpret the events and actions that are impressed upon themselves, and in so doing, respond accordingly. This freedom of the human anticipated in Creation and Fall, combined with the social structure of the person in his earlier works, coalesce in Bonhoeffer’s ethic of responsibility found in Ethics. For Bonhoeffer, ethics takes place not in abstract absolutes but only in concrete situations of reality. He defines reality as that which God reveals in Jesus Christ. Any attempt to develop an ethic apart from this revelation becomes an abstraction, for it is only here in this reality that one can inquire about what is genuinely good. However, Bonhoeffer supersedes the question of the good by instead asking about the will of God. He states, Those who wish even to focus on the problem of a Christian ethic are faced with an outrageous demand—from the outset they must give up, as inappropriate to this topic, the very two questions that led them to deal with the ethical problem: “How can I be good?” and “How can I do something good?” Instead they must ask the wholly other, completely different question: what is the will of God?131

The first two questions find their grounding in the reality of a world that changes over time. Neither an ethic of motive [Motivethik] or consequences [Erfolgsethik] can find any connection with the reality of God, for they are born out of human conditions. However, to ask the latter question is to seek what is made real in Christ, for “No one is good but God alone” (Mk 10:18). Knowing what is good can only come from knowing God. As Bonhoeffer writes, Without God, all seeing and perceiving of things and laws become abstraction, a separation from both origin and goal. All questions of our own goodness, as well as of the goodness of the world, are impossible unless we have first posed the question of the goodness of God. For what meaning would the goodness of human beings and the world have without God? Since God, however, as ultimate

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reality is no other than the self-announcing, self-witnessing, self-revealing God in Jesus Christ, the question of good can only find its answer in Christ.132

It is only by participating in God’s reality that one can answer the question of what is good in realizing the revelation of Jesus Christ.133 So the determination of what is good does not begin with human moral reflection but with divine revelation. Bonhoeffer writes, “Since God . . . as ultimate reality is no other than the self-announcing, self-witnessing, self-revealing God in Jesus Christ, the question of good can only find its answer in Christ.”134 In other words, ethics is a matter of responding to the revelation of Christ by way of participation in his reality. Christian ethics is, then, grounded in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. Bonhoeffer continues, “The subject matter of a Christian ethic is God’s reality revealed in Christ becoming real [Wirklichwerden] among God’s creatures.”135 Thus, Bonhoeffer establishes the ethical foundation for understanding the reality of Christ as a concrete expression of revelation. In this way, Bonhoeffer’s Christian ethic takes on a missional character. It no longer becomes about the teleological good or the deontological right but of the reality of God, a reality that “show[s] itself everywhere to be the ultimate reality.”136 This new reality defines that which is good, and “the question of the good becomes the question of participating in God’s reality revealed in Christ.”137 Human action can no longer pursue its own moral conscience but only participate in that which God reveals. For Bonhoeffer, this means participation in the incarnation of Jesus Christ: “In Jesus Christ the reality of God has entered into the reality of this world.”138 Thus, we begin to understand the nature and role of the church according to Christ as the one who became human. Bonhoeffer further qualifies the reality of Christ within the context of personal encounters. He writes, “We have abandoned the abstract notion . . . of an isolated individual who has available an absolute criterion by which to choose continually and exclusively between a clearly recognized good and a clearly recognized evil.”139 This is because persons, by his very definition, are relational beings. The encounter between persons forms the ethical person and at the same time situates the person toward choice and response. Otherwise, ethics would not be born out of the freedom of the person. Bonhoeffer continues, To act out of concrete responsibility means to act in freedom—to decide, to act, and to answer for the consequences of this particular action myself without the support of other people or principles. Responsibility presupposes ultimate freedom in assessing a given situation, in choosing, and in acting. Responsible action is neither determined from the outset nor defined once and for all; instead, it is born in the given situation. The point is not to apply a principle that

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eventually will be shattered by reality anyway, but to discern what is necessary or “commanded” in a given situation. One must observe, weigh, and judge the matter, all in the dangerous freedom of one’s own self. One must indeed enter the sphere of relativity, in the twilight that the historical situation casts over good and evil. The self-denial often necessary for those who act responsibly is to prefer what is better over what is less good, since “absolute good” is capable, to an even greater extent, of provoking nothing less than evil. The so-called absolute good would in such a case be bad, and that which is relatively better is “absolutely” better than the “absolute good.” This throws the freedom of those who act responsibly into the sharpest relief: it is freedom from servitude even to an “absolute good.”140

This idea of absolute goodness is found in the notion of the isolated individual who can recognize between good and evil. Such an individual, for Bonhoeffer, does not exist since persons exist in sociality. As such, moral and ethical action is instead a response to the action impressed in an encounter with the other. For Bonhoeffer, Jesus Christ is the definition of ethical responsibility. He is “the very embodiment of the person who lives responsibly”141 who in his freedom takes upon himself the vicarious representative action [Stellvertretung]142 on behalf of humanity. According to him, “The structure of responsible life is determined . . . by life’s bond to human beings and to God, and by the freedom of one’s own life.”143 Responsible living is captured in the person of Christ whose freedom is for the sake of others. Christ’s freedom is expressed not for the sake of his own “ethical perfection” but in his free action to take the place of humanity that would otherwise face divine judgment. Similarly, the ethical person shares in the responsibility of vicarious representative action on behalf of others. They are free from the confines of law and principle and are instead responsible for their freedom in their actions. Bonhoeffer’s ethic of responsibility has profound implications toward mission theology and practice. For him, ethics is about more than making personal choices but determining the manner in which a person participates in the world. According to Clifford Green, Ethics was occasioned by the immediate concern of Germany’s National Socialism,144 which ultimately led Bonhoeffer toward an ethic of responsibility. The issue at hand is the question of how the church is to respond to the given moment. Bonhoeffer writes, “The ultimately responsible question is not how I extricate myself heroically from a situation but [how] a coming generation is to go on living.”145 For Bonhoeffer, the solution lies in responsible engagement with the world, not a withdrawal from it. Christian life and mission mean being responsible for others because Christ, as the ultimate model of responsibility, became the vicarious representative

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on our behalf and became responsible for humanity. According to Bonhoeffer, “Responsibility is based on vicarious representative action.”146 The mission of Christ in the incarnation and crucifixion is marked by this representative action on behalf of humanity. As Christ’s body, the church too becomes responsible vicarious representatives, representing both Christ to others and others to Christ. Bonhoeffer writes, The message of God’s love for the world places the church community into a relationship of responsibility for the world. In both word and deed, the church-community has to witness to the world concerning its faith in Christ, to work on removing any offense, and to make room for the gospel in the world. Wherever this responsibility is denied, Christ is denied; for it is the responsibility that corresponds to God’s love of the world.147

This means that the church is sent into the world not for its own sake but for the sake of others and is ethically responsible for others in its mission to the world. CONCLUSION Bonhoeffer’s description of how the transcendent God interacts with humanity in concrete historical reality forms the basis for God’s mission to humanity by bringing the revelatory characteristics of act and being together under the framework of the relationality of persons. Revelation as person means that God reveals himself as an I to a corresponding You. As act, God is free to give or hold back himself to humanity. As being, God is bound to the concrete historical existence shared by humanity. The concept of person maintains both conditions of revelation, allowing humans to encounter God without possessing him. The concept of person has further implications toward understanding divine-human interactions because it extends to humanity through their status of being created in God’s image. God as the divine I necessitates other persons of reciprocal relations existing as a You, and at the same time, existing as an I also means existing as a You. According to Bonhoeffer, this reciprocation is found in individual persons and in collective forms of community, which is made possible because of the imago Dei. The corresponding analogy between God and humanity is their being of relationality, where God creates humanity in his image as persons in relationship. This has further implications for human interactions with one another. The very nature of being created in the image of God makes possible humanity’s relatedness to God and their relatedness to others. Just as God is freely bound to others in his person, so too is

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humanity bound to one another in freedom. This means that humans are free for one another, just as God is free for humanity, and are ethically responsible to one another. It is necessary to establish a theology of revelation that ties concepts of act and being together because neither is in and of itself able to express the entire scope of mission. It is only in understanding revelation as a concept of person that one can adequately describe how humanity encounters God. Revelation as person preserves both qualities of act and being in mission, elaborated in the following chapter, while further locating mission in the concrete historical reality of persons. This not only grounds God’s mission in the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus Christ but also establishes the basis for the church’s participation in that mission as it endures as Christ existing as community. NOTES 1. Richard Bliese, “Bonhoeffer and the Great Commission: Does Bonhoeffer Have a Theology of Mission?” in Reflections on Bonhoeffer: Essays in Honor of F. Burton Nelson, ed. Geffrey B. Kelly and C. John Weborg (Chicago: Covenant Publications, 1999), 255. 2. Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography, rev. ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 73–74. 3. Andreas Pangritz, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: ‘Within, Not Outside, the Barthian Movement,’” in Bonhoeffer’s Intellectual Formation: Theology and Philosophy in His Thought, ed. Peter Frick (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 247.‌‌‌‌‌ 4. Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 133 (emphasis in the original). 5. Eberhard Bethge, “The Challenge of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life and Theology,” in World Come of Age, ed. Ronald Gregor Smith (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1967), 32. 6. Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 178. 7. Pangritz, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer,” 245. 8. See CD IV/2 (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol. 2, ed. G. W. Bromiley and Thomas F. Torrance [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1977]), 641.‌‌‌‌‌ 9. Charles Marsh says as much in Reclaiming Dietrich Bonhoeffer: The Promise of His Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 15–20. 10. Michael P. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation: Berlin, Barth, and Protestant Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), iv. 11. Clifford J. Green, editor’s introduction to DBWE 1 (Dietrich Bonheoffer, Sanctorum Communio: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church, vol. 1 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998]), 4.‌‌‌‌‌ 12. DBWE 1, 6–7. 13. This supposition is shared by, among others, John A. Phillips and Geffrey B. Kelly. See John A. Phillips, Christ for Us in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), 57ff.‌‌‌‌‌; and Geffrey B. Kelly, “Revelation in Christ:

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A Study of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Theology of Revelation” (ThD diss., Louvain, Université Catholique de Louvain, 1972), 148. 14. This would likely have been Bonhoeffer’s starting point had he not deferred to his professor, Reinhold Seeberg, who suggested that he write a “half-historical and half-systematic” thesis. See Wayne Whitson Floyd Jr., editor’s introduction to DBWE 2 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Act and Being: Transcendental Philosophy and Ontology in Systematic Theology, vol. 2 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Wayne Whitson Floyd Jr. [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996]),‌‌‌ 3. See also a letter “From Paula Bonhoeffer” in DBWE 9 (Dietrich Bionheoffer, The Young Bonhoeffer: 1918–1927, vol. 9 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Paul Duane Matheny, Clifford J. Green, and Marshall D. Johnson [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003]), 147–49‌‌‌‌‌. The letter from Bonhoeffer’s mother indicates that she was the one to suggest that he “habilitate later with a systematic thesis when Seeberg is gone.” 15. DBWE 2, 29–30. 16. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 16, writes, “Defining act and being is less a matter of getting down to what an act or being is; it has more to do with what the characteristics of act and being are.” 17. DBWE 2, 27–28. 18. DBWE 2, 33. 19. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 17. 20. DBWE 2, 37. 21. DBWE 2, 44. 22. DBWE 2, 44. 23. DBWE 2, 36. 24. DBWE 2, 59. 25. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 29. 26. DBWE 2, 72. 27. DBWE 2, 72–73. 28. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 32 (emphasis in the original). 29. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 34. 30. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 16–17. 31. Ann L. Nickson, Bonhoeffer on Freedom: Courageously Grasping Reality (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2002), 18. 32. DBWE 2, 82. 33. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 37. 34. DBWE 2, 82. 35. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 39–40. 36. Karl Barth, Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf, vol. 1, Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes: Prolegomena zur christlichen Dogmatik (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1927), 297, quoted in DBWE 2, 82–83. 37. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 40 (emphasis in the original). 38. DBWE 2, 84. 39. DBWE 2, 95. 40. DBWE 2, 103. 41. DBWE 2, 105–6.

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42. DBWE 2, 108. 43. Bonhoeffer also criticizes liberal theology’s appropriation of philosophical methodology. See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Concerning the Christian Idea of God,” in DBWE 10 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Barcelona, Berlin, New York: 1928–1931, vol. 10 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008])‌‌‌‌‌, 452. 44. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “The Anthropological Question in Contemporary Philosophy and Theology,” in DBWE 10, 390. 45. DBWE 2, 29. 46. DBWE 2, 31. 47. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 6–7. 48. DBWE 2, 90 (emphasis in the original). Cf. Martin Luther, On Christian Liberty, trans. W. A. Lambert (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 2: “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.” The notion of Christian freedom relies on participating in God’s own freedom and promise in the Trinity. Robert W. Jenson (“An Ontology of Freedom in the De Servo Arbitrio of Luther,” Modern Theology 10, no. 3 [July 1994]: 252) writes, “[God] frees us by sharing with us his own freedom, his liberum arbitrium. Human freedom, in the only sense Luther wants to talk about, is nothing less than participation in God’s own triune rapture of freedom.” This freedom of God includes “his capacity to make and keep promises” (248), which means that God is bound to his free acts. 49. DBWE 2, 105–6. 50. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation, 71. 51. DBWE 2, 110 (emphasis added). 52. DBWE 2, 117. 53. DBWE 2, 118. 54. DBWE 2, 119. 55. DBWE 2, 112. 56. DBWE 1, 21. 57. DBWE 1, 34 (emphasis in the original). 58. DBWE 1, 36–43. 59. DBWE 1, 50. The “I-You” language points to an earlier work by Martin Buber, I and Thou (trans. Ronald Gregor Smith [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1937)], wherein Buber distinguishes a subjective person’s (I) relationship to other objective persons (Thou/You) versus their connection to static objects (It). While certain similarities exist, Clifford Green observes fundamental differences between Buber’s account of intimacy within the relations against Bonhoeffer’s notion of ethical encounter. See DBWE 1, 5. Bonhoeffer carries the concept of ethical responsibility throughout his later writings, most notably in his Ethics. 60. DBWE 1, 49: “It is a Christian insight that the person as conscious being is created in the moment of being moved—in the situation of responsibility, passionate ethical struggle, confrontation by an overwhelming claim; thus, the real person grows out of the concrete situation.” Cf. Niebuhr, Responsible Self. 61. DBWE 1, 50 (emphasis in the original).

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62. Clifford J. Green, Bonhoeffer: A Theology of Sociality, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 19, 21.‌‌‌‌‌ 63. DBWE 1, 49 (emphasis in the original). 64. DBWE 1, 55. Cf. Buber, I and Thou, 6: “In each Thou we address the eternal Thou.” 65. E.g., Mt 25:40: “Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” 66. C. Green, Bonhoeffer, 36 (emphasis in the original). 67. DBWE 1, 63. 68. DBWE 1, 63. 69. See, for instance, Mt 5:23–25: “So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.” 70. DBWE 1, 32. 71. DBWE 1, 21. 72. DBWE 1, 126. 73. Christiane Tietz, “Bonhoeffer on the Ontological Structure of the Church,” in Ontology and Ethics: Bonhoeffer and Contemporary Scholarship, ed. Adam C. Clark and Michael Mawson (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2013), 34. 74. DBWE 1, 126. 75. DBWE 1, 141 (emphasis added). 76. DBWE 1, 141–42 (emphasis in the original). 77. Bonhoeffer understands the place of the primal state to belong under eschatology, for it is “hope projected backwards.” See DBWE 1, 58–61. He reiterates this in Creation and Fall, DBWE 3 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Creation and Fall: A Theological Exposition of Genesis 1–3, vol. 3 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. John W. de Gruchy [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997])‌‌‌, 22: “Only the church, which knows of the end, knows also of the beginning. It alone knows that between the beginning and now there lies the same breach as between now and the end, that the beginning and now are related in the same way as life is to death, as the new is to the old. The church therefore sees the beginning only in dying, from the viewpoint of the end. It views the creation from Christ; or better, in the fallen, old world it believes in the world of the new creation, the new world of the beginning and the end, because it believes in Christ and in nothing else.” 78. DBWE 1, 127 (emphasis in the original). 79. DBWE 1, 142. 80. Cf. Rom 8:29–30; “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.” 81. For example, Rom 12:4ff.; 6:13, 19; 1 Cor 1:13, 30; 3:16; 6:15; 12:2ff., 12; 2 Cor 6:16; Eph. 1:23, 4:15f.; Col. 1:18; 2:17; 3:11. 82. DBWE 1, 139.

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83. Bonhoeffer caveats that sin is still very much a part of the church community and that it is only in the eschatological hope that the church is made complete. See DBWE 1, 124. 84. DBWE 1, 140–41. Bonhoeffer’s footnote on this point is important to note, which states that there are no “mystical notions” in their correspondence. 85. Kelly, “Revelation in Christ,” 165. 86. DBWE 2, 110. 87. DBWE 1, 143. 88. “Lecture Course: The Nature of the Church (Student Notes),” in DBWE 11, 273–75. 89. Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 219. 90. “Seminar: Is there a Christian Ethic?” in DBWE 11, 341–42. Bethge (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 215), draws comparisons between this and the statements presented in Ciernohorské Kúpele and Gland. See “Lecture in Ciernohorské Kúpele: On the Theological Foundation of the Work of the World Alliance,” and “Address in Gland,” in DBWE 11, 356–70 and 375–82. 91. John W. de Gruchy, editor’s introduction to DBWE 3, 9. 92. DBWE 3, 10. 93. DBWE 3, 11. 94. Ernst Feil, The Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Translated by Martin Rumscheidt (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985),‌‌‌‌ 74. 95. Edwin H. Robertson, translator’s preface to Christ the Center, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 16. 96. C. Green, Bonhoeffer, 193. 97. DBWE 3, 61. 98. DBWE 3, 26ff. 99. DBWE 3, 62. 100. Nickson, Bonhoeffer on Freedom, 57. 101. DBWE 2, 90–91 (emphases in the original). 102. Nickson, Bonhoeffer on Freedom, 57 (emphasis in the original). 103. DBWE 3, 62–63. 104. Clifford J. Green, “Human Sociality and Christian Community,” in The Cambridge Companion to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ed. John W. de Gruchy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 114–15. 105. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Lectures on Christology (Student Notes),” DBWE 12 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Berlin: 1932–1933, vol. 12 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Larry L. Rasmussen [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009])‌‌‌‌, 308–10. 106. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 309. 107. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 310. Edwin H. Robertson observes this allusion to Act and Being in his preface to Christ the Center, stating that according to Bonhoeffer, “The theologian must be able to speak of Jesus Christ as one in whom ‘Act’ and ‘Being’ are one” (19). 108. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 310. 109. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 314. 110. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 314.

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111. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 315. 112. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 314. 113. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 312–313. 114. DBWE 1, 213–14 (emphasis added). 115. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 358. The emphasis of Bonhoeffer’s Christology of presence is not simply on Christ taking on the homoioma sarkos—the likeness of flesh, as in the incarnation (Inkarnation)—but on his taking upon himself the fullness of humanity by truly becoming human (Menschwerdung). Larry Rasmussen observes that this phrase is likely a shorthand reference to Romans 8:3: en homoiomati sarkos harmatias (in the likeness of sinful flesh). See DBWE 12, 313n34 and 356n171. Clifford Green observes that Bonhoeffer uses Menschwerdung over Inkarnation to emphasize this nuanced understanding of Christ’s presence. See Clifford J. Green, editor’s introduction to DBWE 6 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, vol. 6 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005]), 6‌‌‌‌. It is not enough to say that Christ took the appearance of being human. Rather, he took on the fullness of humanity in every way, including their sin and humiliation. Bonhoeffer nuances the distinction between Christ’s becoming human and his taking on flesh in his Christology lectures by stating that though the physical body is destroyed, his humanity remains intact: “In Christ’s being humiliated, we are talking about neither divinity nor humanity, but rather the [homoioma sarkos]. For this [the flesh] is cast off when he is exalted, but his humanity remains” (DBWE 12, 356). However, Christ becoming human does not happen apart from his taking on flesh. Moreover, human beings in their created flesh are joined to Christ, and he can be present in the church as it is exalted. Humanity is reconciled to God not despite Christ’s worldly humanness but because of it because Christ’s humiliation is humanity’s exaltation. The homoioma sarkos, what Bonhoeffer refers to as humanity’s stumbling block, that takes place in Jesus is not a mere appearance of reality but is, in fact, the true reality that draws humanity into it. According to Bonhoeffer, “This [homoioma sarkos] is the true image of the human [sarx]. His [sarx] is our [sarx].” Human flesh does not determine Christ’s flesh; rather, Christ’s taking on flesh exalts and “builds up” humanity and makes real the possibility of salvation and faith. 116. Kelly, “Revelation in Christ,” 192–93. 117. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 315–16. 118. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 317. 119. Kelly, “Revelation in Christ,” 194. 120. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 322. 121. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 323. 122. William Lillie, An Introduction to Ethics (London: Methuen, 1948), 1–2. 123. John Deigh, An Introduction to Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 7. 124. Robin W. Lovin, An Introduction to Christian Ethics: Goals, Duties, and Virtues (Nashville: Abingdon, 2011). 125. H. Richard Niebuhr, The Responsible Self: An Essay in Christian Moral Philosophy (Louisville:Westminster John Knox, 1963)‌‌‌‌, 60–61.

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126. Charles E. Curran, The Catholic Moral Tradition Today: A Synthesis (Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 1999), 73. 127. Lovin, Introduction to Christian Ethics, 213. 128. Matthew D. Kirkpatrick (“Situations, Contexts, and Responsibility: Bonhoeffer’s Ethics in the Thought of Joseph Fletcher, Paul Lemann, and H. Richard Niebuhr,” in Engaging Bonhoeffer: The Impact and Influence of Bonhoeffer’s Life and Thought, ed. Matthew D. Kirkpatrick [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016], 109ff), draws connections between Bonhoeffer and Niebuhr, speculating that The Responsible Self alludes to some of Bonhoeffer’s notion of responsibility in his Ethics. Bethge mentions their interaction only once in passing. See Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 658. 129. DBWE 1, 49–50. 130. Niebuhr, Responsible Self, 72–79. 131. DBWE 6, 47. 132. DBWE 6, 49. 133. DBWE 6, 49–53. 134. DBWE 6, 49. 135. DBWE 6, 49. 136. DBWE 6, 48 (emphasis added). 137. DBWE 6, 50. 138. DBWE 6, 54 (emphasis added). 139. DBWE 6, 219. 140. DBWE 6, 221–22 (emphasis in the original). 141. DBWE 6, 231. 142. In other places, this is translated as “deputyship.” 143. DBWE 6, 257. An earlier translation states, “The structure of responsible life is conditioned by two factors; life is bound to man and to God and a man’s own life is free.” See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (New York: Touchstone, 1995), 220–21. 144. Clifford J. Green, editor’s introduction to DBWE 6, 1. 145. DBWE 8 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, vol. 8 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. John W. de Gruchy [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010])‌‌‌‌, 42. 146. DBWE 6, 257. 147. DBWE 6, 357.

Chapter 5

Reconstructing a Theology of Mission

The problem identified in this book is the break between act and being in present theologies of mission. God’s acts in world history characterized by notions of sending are severed from his eternal being. This characterization subsequently becomes the operative definition for the church’s understanding of its role in mission: as God the Father sends the Son and Spirit, so does the Son send the church into the world through the Holy Spirit. However, this act of sending detached from being leads to an understanding that mission must come to an end as its task or goal is eschatologically fulfilled. This means that mission and the act of sending are not intrinsic to God’s being but stand as a temporary event in history. The solution lies in the concept of person, which brings together act concepts and being concepts of mission. If God is the origin of mission and is to be characterized as missional, then it is necessary to reimagine mission according to terms that consider his ontology and economy. It is at this point that Bonhoeffer’s concept of person offers a way forward. Not only does it bring act and being together in the unity of person, but it also clarifies the definition of mission by giving it substance. That is, the mission of God is the revelation of God, and conversely, the revelation of God is the mission of God. This correlation between mission and revelation means that not only does the church also have a mission, but the church community in its being is mission as it is revealed as the presence of Christ in history. Thus far, I have argued that Hartenstein’s misappropriation of Barth’s doctrine of revelation has led to the shortcomings evident in missio Dei theology. While his conviction to begin with Barth and his doctrine of revelation are astute, and in doing so correctly locates mission within the doctrine of God, Hartenstein’s anthropocentric turn in applying revelation toward religion and eschatology leaves him at a distance from Barth’s theology and fails to locate mission within God’s eternal being in its confinement to being a momentary 155

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act of God. Alternatively, I have argued that in order to develop a theology that is more faithful to the core convictions of the missio Dei, it is necessary to read Barth with the aid of Bonhoeffer’s critically constructive work in his revelational concept of person. Having done so, this chapter now moves to constructively develop a theology of mission in view of the doctrine of revelation by building upon this reparative work. At its core, God’s mission is the movement from himself to humanity as he reveals himself through himself. Moreover, the church in its being is the realization of God’s mission. Both factors are realized in the person of Jesus Christ and the reconciliation enacted in his revelation. REFRAMING THE PROBLEM Establishing a working definition of mission becomes paramount as its scope expands to include many and diverse understandings. As David Bosch observes, “Attempts to define mission are of recent vintage. The early Christian church undertook no such attempts—at least not consciously. . . . More recently, however, it has become necessary to design definitions of mission in a more conscious and explicit manner. Since the nineteenth century such attempts have been legion.”1 These attempts are necessary because of the broad interpretations of mission and its lack of cohesiveness in current missiological conversation, making the term amorphous and contextually dependent upon its user. Many textbooks still find the need to define mission and its cognates before elaborating upon its theology because of the potential for readers to misconstrue the author’s meaning. A quick survey of the history of Christianity shows that the church’s notions of mission have changed drastically over time.2 Nevertheless, some antiquated definitions of mission persist. The difficulty in determining what precisely counts as mission is the fact that the consensus on its definition among theological and missiological circles has been “largely eroded.”3 Even Bosch, in his own initial “interim” definition, does not explicitly define what mission is per se but simply describes some of its characteristics, leaving others to approximate to its meaning. He critiques the endeavor as one of impossibility, stating, “Ultimately, mission remains undefinable. . . . The most we can hope for is to formulate some approximations of what mission is all about.”4 Even so, concepts of mission can be organized under the two broad frameworks: mission as concepts of act and being.

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Mission as a Conce​​​​​​​pt of Act Mission as act has been widely understood throughout the history of the modern missionary movement. This concept runs on a common interpretation of mission where the fundamental presuppositions inherent in it include, according to Bosch, the sender, the receiver, the one sent, and an assignment.5 Another way of stating this is that mission has a task that is meant to be fulfilled or accomplished. This framework for understanding mission has been the predominant modus operandi of missionary programs, strategies, and initiatives within the contemporary church. Whether it is articulated or assumed, mission is seen as a task to be completed. Prior to the conception of the missio Dei, the task of mission fell to the church. The missio Dei attempted to reorient the auspices of mission away from the church by reconceptualizing mission as something that God initiates and fulfills. While it successfully moved the agency of mission from the church by attributing it to God, missio Dei failed to establish mission beyond act concepts. However, missio Dei theology does serve as a step in the right direction in locating mission within Godself. It reveals the possibility of asking further questions regarding the place of mission in the life of God. Mission as a Task of the Church Mission as a task of the church has been and continues to be the prevalent formulation of mission as a concept of act. This concept understands mission as a task or responsibility given to the church as a mandate from God. Based on various Great Commission passages found in Scripture, mission is viewed as the church’s commitment to God’s commands to make disciples, to preach the good news, and to be God’s witnesses as they are sent into all the world (e.g., Mt 28:19–20; Mk 16:15; Acts 1:8; and Jn 20:21). The Willingen conference marks the supposed turning point in the understanding of mission with the missio Dei. However, this change is certainly not comprehensive in all missionary circles, and as such, anachronistic definitions persist in describing mission as an activity of the church. During the mid-twentieth century, Johannes Dürr described mission as the “spreading activity of the church”6 that fulfills its commission to “proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ among non-Christian peoples, gather the community through the Word, and cooperate in the construction of independent churches.”7 These notions persist, even as Christopher J. H. Wright defines mission as “our committed participation as God’s people, at God’s invitation and command, in God’s own mission within the history of God’s world for the redemption of God’s creation.” Wright uses the term in the “general sense of a long-term purpose or goal that is to be achieved through proximate objectives and planned actions.”8

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Likewise, Scott Sunquist defines mission as “the church’s participation in the Triune God through the suffering of Christ, who was sent by the Father for the redemption and liberation of the world, by means of the conversion of individuals and cultures, in the power of the Holy Spirit, to the end that God be glorified in the nations and in all of his creation.”9 According to Andreas Köstenberger, “Mission is the specific task or purpose which a person or group seeks to accomplish.”10 Even still, for John Stott, mission is “everything the church is sent into the world to do.”11 The emphasis of mission and sending as an activity of the church leads further to incoherent statements relating the church to mission. John Flett views the axioms regarding the church’s missionary nature to fall short of bridging God’s being to his act, which consequently dichotomizes the being of the church from its act of mission. Such statements are premised on two basic assumptions regarding mission and an additional related consequence. First, mission involves both a sending and a task. Consequently, this understanding also implies that this task may be accomplished, and that there is a finality to mission itself. These definitions of mission also locate the agency of mission expressly within the church. Here, one understands mission as a commission and command given by God to the church for accomplishing the task of bringing about the kingdom of God into the world. This sense of mission recognizes God as its originator and gives a calling upon the church, but the church is primarily responsible for carrying out the task of mission. The discrepancy between mission as a task of the church over and against mission as a task of God is a lack of agreement of what is precisely meant by mission. Its use is often reserved for the church’s outwardly oriented activities, such as evangelism, service, and ministries of compassion in contrast to the inwardly disposed practices of worship and devotion, which may include preaching, baptism, communion, and theological reflection. For instance, John Stott espouses the view that the church is comprised of its activities of worship and service that are to be distinguished from one another. He further claims that not all God’s activities may be considered mission, stating, Mission, then, is not a word for everything the church does. “The church is mission” sounds fine, but it’s an overstatement. For the church is a worshiping as well as a serving community, and although worship and service belong together they are not to be confused. Nor, as we have seen, does “mission” cover everything God does in the world. For God the Creator is constantly active in his world in providence, in common peace and in judgment, quite apart from the purposes for which he has sent his Son, his Spirit and his church into the world. “Mission” describes rather everything the church is sent into the world to do. “Mission” embraces the church’s double vocation of service to be “the salt of

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the earth” and “the light of the world.” For Christ sends his people into the earth to be its salt, and sends his people into the world to be its light.12

Here, the concept of sending sets the mold that defines mission. As the Son and the Spirit are sent, so too is the church sent into the world with a specific purpose. The church’s actions are meant to reflect the characteristics associated with being salt and light in the world. John Piper makes a similar distinction between worship and mission, describing the former as an eternal activity while the latter is temporary. He writes, “Missions is not the ultimate goal of the church. Worship is. Missions exists because worship doesn’t. Worship is ultimate, not missions, because God is ultimate, not man. When this age is over, and the countless millions of the redeemed fall on their faces before the throne of God, missions will be no more. It is a temporary necessity. But worship abides forever.”13 Such distinctions tend to separate the church’s activities into missional and devotional or outward and inward-oriented categories. An example of this is the organization of Christian missionary sodalities. When viewed as a mere task of the church, mission is outsourced to parachurch organizations, often modeled after the voluntary missionary societies developed in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.14 Back then, the missionary task was taken on by certain groups outside the traditional church structures, which no longer made mission a necessary mark of the church. In contrast to worship, which the church could not exist without, mission became an option in which the church may or may not choose to participate.15 Neither Wright, Stott, Piper, or others deny the validity or significance of the missio Dei. In these cases, however, a distinction is drawn between the mission of God and the mission of the church. For instance, Piper declares that “missions is supremely the work of the risen Lord Jesus.”16 However, his own interpretation of mission as something from God does not change his perception of it as a temporary act that will ultimately end as the church enters the eschaton. While the missio Dei is broad in its scope, mission is reserved for the specific acts in which the church is engaged in the world. Mission as a Task of God The emergence of missio Dei theology made dramatic shifts in the understanding of mission as simply a task of the church by locating its agency within God’s action in the world. Most, if not all, conversations surrounding the topic attribute God as the originator of mission, though what this means precisely is less clear. Even those who describe mission as a task of the church may agree that the basis of mission is established upon God’s disposition to the world and the church’s commitment to his lordship and will. However, the concept of mission as a task of God brings nuanced understandings of God’s

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interaction with the world apart from the church. According to this concept, God’s mission is not just given to the church to be carried out in the world; instead, God himself is on mission to the world. This understanding expands the definition of mission beyond the church being sent to include all that God is doing in the world. Missiologists have attempted to accommodate these definitions by distinguishing the use of the terms “mission” and “missions” to indicate the different intent of its usage. Though the implications of mission as an all-encompassing action of God in the world are not immediately embraced by all, it has generally found acceptance in ecumenical circles shaped by the conversations of the World Council of Churches and in a growing number of evangelical camps. The WCC’s recent statement on mission and evangelism, Together towards Life, sketches the all-encompassing nature of God’s mission. It begins with the understanding that God “sustains and empowers life and renews the whole creation”17 and that “mission begins in the heart of the Triune God and the love which binds together the Holy Trinity overflowed to all humanity and creation.”18 The document further extrapolates the scope of Christ’s salvation in the world: “God did not send the Son for the salvation of humanity alone or give us partial salvation. Rather the gospel is the good news for every part of creation and every aspect of our life and society. It is, therefore, vital to recognize God’s mission in a cosmic sense, and to affirm all life, the whole oikoumene, as being interconnected in God’s web of life.”19 The statement broadens the task of mission from beyond the scope of the salvation and redemption of humanity to the flourishing of all creation that takes into consideration the physical world, including the social, political, and economic systems therein. The document calls for the church to “move beyond a narrowly human-centered approach and to embrace forms of mission which express our reconciled relationship with all created life.”20 These forms of mission greatly expand upon the traditionally held tasks of proclamation and evangelism to include the liberation of people from earthly corrupt powers and principalities, and to bring about the social and communal justice of God that encompasses the overarching principle of shalom, which are represented in activities such as “the emancipation of coloured races, the concern for the humanization of industrial relations, various attempts at rural development, the quest for business and professional ethics, the concern for intellectual honesty and integrity.”21 It is, therefore, necessary for Christian mission to confront, for instance, the economic systems that contribute to poverty and the unequal distribution of wealth, the societal problems of racism and criminal justice reform, and the politics of immigration and war. According to this view, these tasks are not comprehensive of the forms of mission but merely illustrate the extensiveness of the reach of mission.

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Much of this renewed understanding of mission is in part due to the significance of understanding dikaiosyne for theology and mission. The translation and interpretation of dikaiosyne have posed problems for theology. Translators have rendered it either as righteousness or justice, thereby juxtaposing critical facets of the term as separate. According to Bosch, It [dikaiosyne] can refer to justification (God’s merciful act of declaring us just, thus changing our status and pronouncing us acceptable to him), or to righteousness (a preeminently religious or spiritual concept: an attribute of God or a spiritual quality that we receive from God), or to justice (people’s right conduct in relation to their fellow human beings, seeking for them that to which they have a right). Most English New Testament translations reveal a bias toward the second meaning. Often the word “justice” does not appear at all in an English New Testament—with important consequences.22

The juxtaposition between righteousness and justice has significant ramifications for the theology of the church and further implications toward the theology and practice of mission. If priority is given to righteousness as an understanding of one’s right individual standing before God, the missional efforts of the church will inevitably focus on the tasks that address this condition. Alternatively, a focus on justice as a societal priority begins to concentrate on just relationships with one’s neighbor. Thus, for Bosch, the dichotomy between righteousness and justice fails to convey the full constitutive and normative dimensions of dikaiosyne as understood in Scripture. The 1974 Lausanne Covenant addresses this concern under its fifth section entitled “Christian Social Responsibility.” Lamenting the overreaction against the social gospel movement, which disassociated the calling of evangelism from social action, the document sought to bring together both aspects of dikaiosyne as part and parcel of the call to mission: We express penitence both for our neglect and for having sometimes regarded evangelism and social concern as mutually exclusive. Although reconciliation with other people is not reconciliation with God, nor is social action evangelism, nor is political liberation salvation, nevertheless we affirm that evangelism and socio-political involvement are both part of our Christian duty. For both are necessary expressions of our doctrines of God and man, our love for our neighbor and our obedience to Jesus Christ. The message of salvation implies also a message of judgment upon every form of alienation, oppression and discrimination, and we should not be afraid to denounce evil and injustice wherever they exist. When people receive Christ they are born again into his kingdom and must seek not only to exhibit but also to spread its righteousness in the midst of an unrighteous world. The salvation we claim should be transforming us in the totality of our personal and social responsibilities. Faith without works is dead.23

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In many ways, the Lausanne Covenant was developed in response to the ecumenical movement. According to Kenneth Ross, “The [Lausanne] conference sought to balance socio-political concerns with a commitment to evangelism and personal conversion”24 during a time when churches emerging outside the West were taking up the mantle of mission within their own spheres of influence. For such churches, the polarization between personal salvation and social action was never a tenable option. Instead, they understood the gospel as the manifestation of both evangelism and justice for the oppressed.25 Many Western evangelicals opposed this development, viewing that it overemphasized the latter’s role at the neglect of the former. For instance, Stott makes a pivotal point to distinguish Lausanne’s interpretations by commenting on the WCC’s report delivered at Bangkok the year prior, stating, “Although it included some references to personal salvation, its emphasis was to equate salvation with political and economic liberation.”26 This view, by no means, received a unanimous consensus among evangelicals. Nevertheless, even with a growing number of majority world churches joining the evangelical movement and the increase in many prolific evangelical theologians and leaders advocating for a more holistic view of mission, conversations surrounding the evangelism-social action divide persist to this day. Despite these theological differences, both ecumenical and evangelical theologies generally agree that the scope of mission includes more than simply the church’s role of expanding its influence via verbal proclamation and evangelism. A mission that stems from God considers the whole of his actions in the world to include the concern of just relationships as it fulfills the mandate of shalom between communities of people, systems of power, and even with the whole of creation itself. However, while a theology of the missio Dei provides trinitarian language to differentiate the act of mission from human fallibility, attempts to define mission as an act of God only solve the problem of agency on the surface while no substantial change occurs in the church’s practice in the world. Instead, it merely reinterprets the practices to fit the theological shift that occurs. According to Flett, interpretations of the missio Dei as an act or task of God “tended to go toward the more established patterns of church structures and missions, with the effect that mission became reduced to the action of the church in her mundane practices.”27 As such, there is little differentiation between the concept of mission as an act of God and the church. Mission as a Concept of Being At face value, the missio Dei shifts the agency of mission from the church to God, but it does not address the more significant implication of whether mission is taken up in God’s being. To put it another way, mission as act assumes

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that it has an inherent eschatological end. While missiologists attempt to locate mission within God’s identity, further statements run contrary to this claim. As Stephen Holmes states, “Ecumenical theology will happily talk of the missio Dei, the mission of God, but seems reluctant to accept ‘missionary’ as a possible attribute of God. God has a mission, but God is not missionary, or so the rhetoric of ecumenical theology would seem to imply.”28 Others have likewise claimed God’s nature as missionary but fall short of attributing it to God’s being, leading to Flett’s charge of an “undue breach between who God is in himself and who he is in his economy.”29 Mission as a description of God’s being has garnered some attention with the resurgence of interest in the doctrine of the Trinity. Much of this is due in part to Karl Barth’s influence over the theological landscape. According to John Hoffmeyer, the innovations fostered by the missio Dei after Willingen, combined with the renewed interest in trinitarian doctrine beginning with Karl Barth, “at the very least . . . provides a terminological invitation to think missiology and trinitarian theology together.”30 This link is appropriate, for mission as a theological designation was originally used to describe the trinitarian movement of God. Since then, however, new thinking on the Trinity has suggested that mission is an immanent attribute of God for all eternity, which is in no way different from his economic activity in time.31 This means that if mission is indeed a description of God’s economic activity, it must also be from within the innermost life of God in his eternal being. By extension, this has significant implications toward understanding the church’s being in mission. God’s Being in Mission In order to reconstruct a theology of mission, one must move beyond act concepts and begin to describe mission according to God’s being. Here, Barth offers a path toward understanding God’s being through his act of revelatory sending. According to him, God cannot be other than what he has made known in his self-revelation, thus arguing for the consistency between the economic and immanent Trinity. Barth writes, We have consistently followed the rule, which we regard as basic, that statements about the divine modes of being antecedently in themselves cannot be different in content from those that are to be made about their reality in revelation. All our statements concerning what is called the immanent Trinity have been reached simply as confirmations or underlinings or, materially, as the indispensable premises of the economic Trinity. They neither could nor would say anything other than that we must abide by the distinction and unity of the modes of being in God as they encounter us according to the witness of Scripture in the reality of God in His revelation. The reality of God in His revelation cannot be

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bracketed by an “only,” as though somewhere behind His revelation there stood another reality of God; the reality of God which encounters us in His revelation is His reality in all the depths of eternity.32

In other words, God’s movement toward humanity in his revelation discloses the being behind the act. Bruce McCormack summarizes Barth in this way: “The activity of God the Reconciler is in some sense constitutive of the divine essence. . . . He is a God whose very being—already in eternity—is determined, defined, by what he reveals himself to be in Jesus Christ.”33 God is made known through his self-revealing act. However, this does not mean that there is necessarily any ontological change that occurs within God because of the way that he is known. The revelation of the Son, who assumes human flesh, does not constitute a change in God. Instead, it is a reality that already takes place within God’s own eternal life. According to McCormack, When God gives himself over in this way to our contradiction of him and the judgment which falls upon it, he does not give himself away. He does not cease to be God in becoming incarnate and dying in this way. He takes this human experience into his own life and extinguishes its power over us. But he is not changed on an ontological level by this experience for the simple reason that his being, from eternity, is determined as a being-for this event.34

McCormack describes this logic as an actualistic ontology where his being is a “being-in-act.” God, who exists in eternity, makes himself known in time in which humanity can know God’s being through his revelation. From the perspective of humanity, God is made known through his action upon humanity. The doctrine of election serves as the centerpiece of Barth’s theology of mission. For him, election is at the very heart of God’s revelation, all hinging on the reality of Jesus Christ as both the electing God and elected human. There is no revelation that takes place apart from this truth. Barth writes, In Himself, in the primal and basic decision in which He wills to be and actually is God, in the mystery of what takes place from and to all eternity within Himself, within His triune being, God is none other than the One who in His Son or Word elects Himself, and in and with Himself elects His people. In so far as God not only is love, but loves, in the act of love which determines His whole being God elects. And in so far as this act of love is an election, it is at the same time and as such the act of His freedom. There can be no subsequent knowledge of God, whether from His revelation or from His work as disclosed in that revelation, which is not as such knowledge of this election. 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.35

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The message of revelation demonstrates the love of God in his act of electing. At the same time, this act also determines our knowledge of him as the God who elects. McCormack writes, “Election is the event in God’s life in which he assigns to himself the being he will have for all eternity. It is an act of Self-determination.”36 Election is essential to God’s being. It is not an added decision that lies beyond his other eternal attributes. Rather, it is, according to Colin Gunton, “indissolubly part of the very being and essence of God that he elects.” He continues, “[Barth’s doctrine of God] denies that election is an also in the will of God, that God is really something else, but also happens to be the one who elects men to relationship with himself. . . . For Barth, God’s decision of election is part of what it means to be God.”37 God can only be known according to what is revealed in Christ, and what is made known is that he graciously elects. By placing the doctrine of election squarely at the center of revelation, Barth develops a methodology for understanding God’s being through his act. According to McCormack, “What Barth accomplished with his doctrine of election was to establish a hermeneutical rule which would allow the church to speak authoritatively about what God was doing—and, indeed, who and what God was/is—‘before the foundation of the world,’ without engaging in speculation.”38 That is, in humanity’s election, God reveals that he is the God who elects. He makes himself known as the electing God and elected human, and this is accomplished in Jesus Christ as the revealed Word of God. For Barth, sending the Son into the world to become human is the outward enactment of God’s inward disposition to election. According to Gunton, “[The doctrine of election] is saying something about God, and moreover, about what God really is. Before it speaks about man or his experience, whether Christian or otherwise, it speaks about God.”39 What it says about God is that his being cannot stand at a distance from his act. God is not in himself one thing ad intra and another in his doing ad extra. As such, election “is not an afterthought, hastily improvised after the catastrophe that overtook the first and independent order of creation.”40 On the contrary, it is something intrinsic to God’s being from all eternity, for according to Barth, “Jesus Christ is Himself the divine election of grace.”41 His being sent into the world is the actualization of this grace. This means that the mission of the Son is also not an afterthought but is predetermined from before the creation of the world, and therefore God’s very being is in mission. The implications of these assertions are profound for understanding mission not simply as something God does but something that is a part of Godself. Missiologists contend that mission is in the very nature of God, and missio Dei theology trades on the notion that mission is of God and not of human origins. But often overlooked are the eschatological consequences of such notions. Stephen Holmes addresses the discrepancy between the

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theology of mission and its surrounding language. The nuance is between God having a mission and God being missionary. The difference is that “in the former case the mission may be incidental, disconnected from who God is; in the latter case, mission is one of the perfections as God, as adequate a description of who he is as love, omnipotence or eternity.”42 If the assertions above are true and revelation is determinative of God’s being, then mission as God’s act toward humanity must also be taken up within God’s ontology. Mission is not just something that God does; mission is contained within the very essence of God just as much as are the eternal processions.43 This, of course, has further implications. For according to Holmes, “The divine mission cannot ever come to an end.”44 It is an eternal attribute, and so it must continue beyond the eschatological event. Understanding mission as being affirms the consistency of God’s being ad intra with his act ad extra. Holmes points to Christ’s sending of his disciples in John 20:21–22 as an example to not only describe God’s economy but also his immanent trinitarian dynamic, stating, “Jesus . . . is reflecting on the eternal inner-triune relationships of love which Father, Son and Spirit share, and in which the church is called to participate.”45 Holmes understands God’s outward acts as being consistent with his inward being. Thus, God’s sending, which takes place in the incarnational movement of the Son, is also eternally predetermined from before creation. Mission is “neither something foreign to God, nor is it an afterthought, a second and unpremeditated act of God intended to repair the unforeseen damage to his primary and intended act of creation,” but is “a repetition of the pattern of God’s eternal life.”46 In any case, Barth’s contribution demands a reconsideration of regarding mission simply as an act of God, which by itself has no eternal ramifications, but as a part of God’s being-in-act that is determined by his self-revelation. The Church’s Being in Mission God’s being in mission has immediate consequences for the church’s own being: “The being and nature of the church are equally inseparable from its mission . . . just as the sending of Christ by the Father is inseparable from his being and nature as the incarnate Son.”47 Since Willingen, the question of the church’s mission has inescapably turned to locate it within the mission of God. For instance, the Vatican II document Ad Gentes declares that the church is “missionary by her very nature, since it is from the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she draws her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father.”48 The World Council of Churches’ Faith and Order Commission also grounds the very existence and purpose of the church in God’s trinitarian mission: “The origin of the Church is rooted in the plan of the Triune God for humankind’s salvation.”49 Christopher J. H. Wright, who

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was primarily responsible for drafting the Lausanne Movement’s most recent confessional Cape Town Commitment, states, “It is not so much the case that God has a mission for his church in the world but that God has a church for his mission in the world. Mission was not made for the church; the church was made for mission.”50 The question of the church’s nature, which is also a question of being, is what drives these statements about mission. Identifying the church’s missional being is critical because it is through mission that the church is joined to Christ. Lesslie Newbigin is a significant proponent for locating the church’s being in mission. For him, John 20:21 serves as the starting point for this reflection: “‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you’ defines the very being of the Church as mission. In this sense, everything that the Church is and does can be and should be part of mission.”51 Newbigin aims to remove the dichotomy between church and mission in essence, “a dichotomy for which there is no foundation in the New Testament and in the basic facts of the Christian faith.”52 Rather, for him, “The whole life of the Church . . . has a missionary dimension” because “the Church is the mission.”53 He points to the example of the church in its worship and liturgy, suggesting that they may be a more effective witness over that of the activities explicitly intended as mission. In other words, mission is not limited to its outward activities but consists of the fullness of ecclesial life and practice, and all that the church is and does refers back to its missional nature. In many ways, Barth and Newbigin share a similar missional ecclesiology. For instance, Barth recognizes the missionary dimension of the church through his understanding of the church’s being. He understands the church to be the earthly-historical existence of Jesus Christ, one that is gathered by the Holy Spirit and derived from Christ himself: “He [Jesus Christ] constitutes and organises and guarantees the community as His body.”54 This understanding of the church also means for Barth that the church’s being is found in and dependent upon Christ’s being. To put it simply, “The being of the Church” is “Jesus Christ, God in His gracious revealing and reconciling address to man.”55 What is more, Christ is made known by himself as the Word of God. What is made known is his act ad extra, which corresponds to his missional being. In other words, Christ’s being is in mission. This leads to the determination that the church’s being is characterized by mission, just as it is in Christ’s own being. According to Barth, “[The church’s] mission is not additional to its being. It is, as it is sent and active in its mission.”56 Put another way, the church’s being is in mission as it does in its missionary act. However, it is not enough to say that the church’s being is in mission. The danger here is to locate the totality of mission within the church without consideration of the transcendence of God in his revelation. Bonhoeffer’s critique of being concepts of revelation is illuminative of this danger. Act and Being

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lays out three different interpretations of being concepts: doctrine, psychic experience, and institution. Each of these instances describes “the revealed God as something existing,”57 something that Michael DeJonge qualifies as “a potential object of knowledge and is therefore liable to objectification.”58 This means that God is bound to these objects of revelation, no longer making it a free act of God. For example, Bonhoeffer writes, “When God is bound within a doctrine of the divine nature, then God is to be found in that doctrine, understandable and subject to classification within the human ‘system.’”59 In other words, experience becomes a determination of God rather than a confirmation of an actual encounter with God. Bonhoeffer’s evaluation of the church as an institution serves as an effective analysis of the problem of revelatory being. In Sanctorum Communio, he describes the church in sociological terms of the society [Gesellschaft], the church as a compulsory organization or a voluntary association. In the former, the institution is sustained by its own virtue, and in the latter, the institution is dependent upon its constituent makeup. Bonhoeffer describes the compulsory organization in transactional terms; one enters to gain something, in this case, the assurance of salvation. In the latter, he describes the church as a voluntary society: “The church exists for the free enjoyment of each individual.”60 A society is sustained by their membership and is equally dissolved with a lack of members. God is, in this case, “bound immediately and is at the disposal of human beings.”61 The church becomes the gateway by which God is possessed but never encountered. The church then becomes self-serving, maintaining its existence rather than enacting its call to be the community. What Barth eventually achieves in his Church Dogmatics regarding the dynamic between act and being is already articulated by Bonhoeffer in Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being in his concept of person. For Barth, the church’s being depends on God’s own being revealed in Christ’s act of mission. In essence, the mission of the Son, which does not take place apart from the mission of the Father or the Spirit, constitutes our understanding of the church. But Bonhoeffer goes further by locating the unity of act and being in Jesus Christ as person, which has significant ramifications toward understanding the church in mission. MISSION AS A CONCEPT OF PERSON The problem thus far has been the distance between act concepts and being concepts of mission. Mission as act fails to provide historical continuity, especially when given the eschaton. This is a problem for definitions of mission that claim God’s relation to humanity is a replication of God’s inner-trinitarian dynamic. And while mission as being provides a solution to

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the historical and eschatological discontinuity, it fails to protect God’s freedom in his acts, such as in creation, incarnation, and crucifixion. The answer then lies in the unity of act and being in the concept of person. What is more, this concept finds its concreteness in the person of Jesus Christ, who is both the revelation of God and the mission of God. Building from the preceding discussions in chapters 3 and 4, this section defines these terms accordingly. Jesus Christ as the Person of Revelation Christian revelation means God’s self-disclosure. Some have taken this to mean that the knowledge of God is found in objects such as the Bible or dogmas and traditions such as the church institution.62 While such being concepts maintain the continuity of revelation throughout history, they have also been criticized as being too static and risk falling into the hands of human possibility. Others have taken revelation to mean that it is found in personal experience, whether it is initiated from oneself or another external source.63 While such act concepts maintain God’s freedom from the human grasps, it fails to locate revelation within concrete history. Revelation then becomes a subjective experience to the individual. While both views hold some validity in their expressions, they also stand at a distance from each other and fail to absorb the crucial expressions of the other. The solution to this separation can be found only by moving beyond act and being concepts to interpret revelation as a concept of person. However, it is not enough to say that revelation is found in a general concept of person. Specifically, revelation is in the concrete reality of Jesus Christ, the Word of God who became human. This is the basis of the Christian faith; that God dwells among us, and God is with us (Jn 1:14). He chooses to reveal himself by becoming human. The incarnation is how God has determined to interact with creation and allows us to interact with him. It is because God became human that we can receive God’s revelation. For according to Barth, “In this similarity between him and us we recognize the possibility of the revelation of God.”64 He continues, “We understand that the incarnation of the son of God could be revelation, that for the purpose of God’s revelation it was God’s son who had to become man.”65 In this way, revelation takes on a concrete form within creation: “When God comes to us as one of ourselves to be our own, to be ourselves in our place, as very God and very Man, this is a real event accomplished in space and time as history within history. In it God’s revelation comes to us.”66 Revelation does not occur apart from God becoming human.

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Persons in Relationship The fact that revelation takes the concrete form of person has significant trinitarian implications, for it is the concept of person that structures the capacity of God and humans to form the I-You interactions. David Miell describes this capacity according to three levels of relationships.67 The first level is a relation “within the Triune God as the eternal relations between the Father and the Son.”68 Barth’s analysis of the plurality of God in Genesis 1:26 (“Let us make man in our image”) leads to the conclusion that “the plurality in the divine being plainly attested in this passage, the differentiation and relationship, the loving co-existence and co-operation, the I and Thou . . . first take[s] place in God Himself.”69 God’s eternal relation to the Son is the “prototype” upon which the human person finds their analogy. This directly leads to Miell’s second point that there exists a relation between God and humanity where they “should be his covenant partner.”70 Humanity’s capacity to be addressed as a You by God and reciprocally meet God as an I reflects the intra-trinitarian dynamic of God’s being. Barth writes, “Man is created by God in correspondence with this relationship and differentiation in God Himself: created as a Thou that can be addressed by God but also as an I responsible to God.”71 Human relations is analogous to God’s ontological reality, and therein lies its significance for trinitarian theology. For Barth, the analogy between God and humanity is between the divine processions and the divine missions. He argues, “Between these two relationships [the relationship within the being of God on the one side and between the being of God and that of man on the other] as such—and it is in this sense that the second is the image of the first—there is correspondence and similarity. There is an analogia relationis.” Barth also draws a parallel analogy in the context of love: The correspondence and similarity of the two relationships consists in the fact that the eternal love in which God as the Father loves the Son, and as the Son loves the Father, and in which God as the Father is loved by the Son and as the Son by the Father, is also the love which is addressed by God to man, in which man may be His creature, and in which the Creator-creature relationship is established by the Creator.72

In both cases, the dynamic relationship within God’s trinitarian being is reflected in God’s relationship to humanity, which is not only revealed by the person of Jesus Christ but is also actuated in his revealing: “The humanity of Jesus, His fellow-humanity, His being for men as a direct correlative of his being for God, indicates, attests and reveals this correspondence and similarity.”73 Thus, it is in the divine mission of God—that is, God become human—that fully realizes the imago Dei within humanity.

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The third level of relations, which extends the second, is “between human persons as the basic form of humanity.”74 In other words, the human capacity for a relationship with God means that they necessarily enter into relationships with others as well. Miell describes this as the “recursive structure” of the analogia relationis. This structure is, in fact, significant in all three levels of relationships. Between humans, recursion takes place where the subjective I is at the same time the objective You for another I, who is at the same time You for the initial subject. For Barth, the I is never apart from the You, both within one person and between persons. He writes, “When I say ‘I’ and therefore ‘[You]’ to someone else, I empower and invite and summon him to say ‘[You]’ to me in return. The declaration ‘I’ in what I say is the declaration of my expectation that the other being to which I declare myself in this way will respond and treat and describe and distinguish me as something like himself.”75 This recursion is made possible because in the divine I of Christ, every individual is made a You, and reciprocally every individual You is addressed by the divine I. The human capacity for I-You relationships in Christ is the same capacity for I-You relationships with other individuals. Imago Dei and Analogia Relationis Proximate to Barth’s concept of person is his development of the imago Dei and the analogia relationis. In §41 of the Church Dogmatics, Barth addresses the question of the imago Dei by responding with Bonhoeffer’s solution of the analogia relationis.76 Barth affirms the analogy between God and humans as one of freedom. But this is not freedom in itself; it is freedom for others, for “as God is free for man, so is man free for man.”77 Barth writes this in direct opposition to the analogia entis, to which he finds in it no correspondence to the imago Dei. Instead, it is God’s freedom for humanity that humanity shares in his likeness, and with it is necessarily imputed their freedom for others. Consequently, human beings do not exist in themselves but only in relation to God and to others. The influence of Bonhoeffer’s analogia relationis comes later in Barth’s career, notably well after the contentious 1934 debate over natural theology between himself and Emil Brunner. Like Barth, Brunner reacted against the liberalism of the nineteenth century. However, the difference in their understandings of how humanity bore God’s image led to the dissolution of their fellowship. Their debates, however, were “not really a debate about natural theology at all” but were instead concerned primarily with “the doctrine of creation, the nature of revelation, and the capacity of humanity to discern and respond to that revelation.”78 In Brunner’s view, the idea that God’s image in humanity was their capacity to be responsible subjects—that is, human beings can receive and respond to the Word of God’s revelation [Ansprechbarkeit

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and Verantwortlichkeit]—was central to his argument of the imago Dei.79 Of the six major points of criticism that he made to summarize Barth’s views, two are especially important to note for the current conversation. First, Brunner stated that for Barth, “Since man is a sinner who can be saved only by grace, the image of God in which he was created is obliterated entirely, i.e., without remnant. Man’s rational nature, his capacity for culture and his humanity, none of which can be denied, contain no traces or remnants whatever of that last image of God.”80 In other words, there was no trace of the imago Dei in humanity’s fallen state. Against this perception, Brunner responded, God has created [humanity] for a special purpose—to bear his image. This function or calling as a bearer of the image is not only not abolished by sin; rather is it the presupposition of the ability to sin and continues within the state of sin. We can define this by two concepts: the fact that man is a subject and his responsibility. Man has an immeasurable advantage over all other creatures, even as a sinner, and this he has in common with God: he is a subject, a rational creature. The difference is only that God is the original, man a derived subject. Not even as a sinner does he cease to be one with whom one can speak, with whom therefore also God can speak. And this is the very nature of man: to be responsible. Even as a sinner man is responsible.81

The image of God was reflected in humanity in what Brunner called a “formal sense,” which was separated from a “material sense” where God’s image in the human was lost to sin. The dialectic between the formal and the material meant that though they did not naturally possess revelation, humanity could be addressed by God and receive his Word as a “purely formal possibility.”82 This possibility was referred to as the “point of contact” within the human where God spoke. However, it was not possible for Barth, according to Brunner’s interpretation, “to speak of the ‘point of contact’ for the saving action of God. For this would contradict the sole activity of the saving grace of Christ, which is the center of the theology of the Bible and the Reformation.”83 Since Brunner maintained a formal sense of the imago Dei in the human, God could meet the person precisely because they were in God’s image. He stated, “No one who agrees that only human subjects . . . can receive the Word of God and the Holy Spirit can’t deny that there is such a thing as a point of contact for the divine grace of redemption. This point of contact is the formal imago Dei.”84 What is more, human beings were not only able to receive God’s Word but able to respond accordingly. Brunner argued, This possibility of his being addressed is also the presupposition of man’s responsibility. Only a being that can be addressed is responsible, for it alone can make decisions. Only a being that can be addressed is capable of sin. But in sinning, while being responsible, it somehow or other knows of its sin. This

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knowledge of sin is a necessary presupposition of the understanding of the divine message of grace.85

This much is certain: Humanity is marred by sin. To be reconciled with God, humanity must be able to respond to the Word that reveals to them this reality, for “without knowledge of God there can be no sin.”86 For Brunner, this meant that humans must have the possibility to receive this message and subsequently respond to it at the point of contact that occurs within the created being. Barth, however, held the notion that the knowledge of God was a pure act of God in his revelation. The imago Dei that humans bore was obscured by sin, and so it would be futile to look inward to gain any understanding of God. Anything else that relied on any aspect of human involvement was a construct of the natural theology of modernism, which Barth viewed as “an expression of the characteristic tendency of sinful humanity to affirm its epistemic and soteriological independence.”87 In short, it was a return to the German liberalism that he so fervently opposed. However, as Alister McGrath points out, “there are other historical forms of natural theology with a significant historical pedigree, which are not embedded within or moulded by a modernist worldview.”88 Thus, Barth’s interpretation during the 1934 debate did not accurately portray Brunner’s point of view but was instead a reaction to his own presuppositions regarding natural theology in general. Since then, Barth’s position makes significant shifts in thinking, and this is in no small part because of his reading of Bonhoeffer.89 Brunner notes this shift in the second volume of his Dogmatics, stating, Barth’s thought on this point [the concept of analogy] has changed. He now admits this “structural” concept of the Imago, which is found only in the Old Testament; he distinguishes it from the concept of the Reformation (and, may we add, of the New Testament), as the element in the Image of God which cannot be lost. . . . This is exactly what I said in my pamphlet, Natur und Gnade, some time ago. I’m happy to know that this controversy, which caused so much discussion, may not be regarded as settled.90

Barth’s rejection is no longer contained within the general principle of analogy per se, though he still firmly rejects the doctrine of the analogia entis. His reading of Genesis 1:26 (“Let us make man in our image, after our likeness”) becomes the ground and justification for humans as image-bearers to be persons in relationship to God. What is more, the analogy is not sustained by humanity’s condition of being created but by God alone. Barth writes, We certainly cannot deduce from this that man has lost it through the fall, either partially or completely, formally or materially. The Reformation thesis

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concerning the loss of the imago Dei through the fall is understandable and necessary against the background of the Reformation understanding of the imago as a rectitudo animae [original righteousness], or status integritatis [state of innocence], which man had originally possessed but immediately forfeited by reason of his guilt and as its consequence and punishment. But there is no basis for this conception of the imago in Gen. 1. The biblical saga knows nothing of an original ideal man either in Gen. 1, Gen. 2 or elsewhere. Hence it is not surprising that neither in the rest of the Old Testament nor the New is there any trace of the abrogation of this ideal state, or of the partial or complete destruction of the imago Dei. What man does not possess he can neither bequeath nor forfeit. And on the other hand the divine intention at the creation of man, and the consequent promise and pledge given with it, cannot be lost or subjected to partial or complete destruction. This is proved by the fact that the history of God’s fellowship and intercourse with man is not abrogated with the fall as the actualisation of man’s rejection of this relationship.91

The imago Dei is God’s work and gift, and therefore no amount of humanity’s sin bears upon God’s work. Human knowledge of God is possible because they are made in his image. Knowing God is a grace and a gift realized in Christ becoming human, which clears the way for humans to understand God and themselves. According to Barth, “As the man Jesus is Himself the revealing Word of God, He is the source of our knowledge of the nature of man as created by God.”92 Humanity cannot know its own condition by looking inward, but only through God’s revelation, which is realized in Christ’s becoming human. The incarnation reveals that “the image [of God] consists in humans’ reflecting the internal communion and encounter present within God.”93 This is a trinitarian statement, but it is also a missional one. It speaks to both the internal processions and external missions of God. Apart from Christ’s incarnation, humanity has no material substance. But with the incarnation, humanity knows that it bears a relationality conditioned by God’s trinitarian being. In other words, Christ reveals himself as person, thereby setting up human beings to reciprocate as relational persons. That Christ reveals himself as person has significant ramifications toward understanding mission as revelation and personhood come to a head in the doctrine of election. To reiterate, God makes himself known in his revelation to reconcile humanity to himself. The way that this is accomplished can be described according to the doctrine of election. As such, election is at the very heart of revelation. Colin Gunton iterates this by saying, “A doctrine of election that does not have its grounds in the God whom we know in Jesus Christ, in the known rather than the unknown God, is not the Christian Gospel.”94 The uniqueness of Christianity lies in the notion that God makes himself known as the God who graciously elects, for as Barth writes, “God

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is the self-revealing God, and as such He is the electing God.”95 This interconnection between revelation and election is made sense of only through Barth’s christocentrism, for it is in Christ that he is revealed to be the electing God and elected human. God’s election takes place in the event of revelation where Christ is “predestined” for election. In other words, God reveals the election that has already taken place in Christ: “God authenticates his reality by what he does here.”96 McCormack reiterates this point when he states, “The electing God . . . is a God whose very being—already in eternity—is determined, defined, by what he reveals himself to be in Jesus Christ.”97 In sending his Son into the world, God makes known that which is already accomplished for the sake of the world. It is at this point that Suzanne McDonald provides a key revision to Barth’s understanding of election. The imago Dei is significant for McDonald because it is here that election takes hold in the community of Christ and the individual. According to her, God’s covenant of election is based in creation, and the fact that God created humanity shows his predilection toward election. McDonald writes, “The very act of creation is grace and blessing, and the very fact of being created [in the imago Dei] is itself ‘election and acceptance.’ As a result, whatever any creature may attempt to make of itself, it is elected, accepted, and justified by virtue of God bringing it to be.”98 What is more, persons bear God’s image by representing God to others. According to McDonald, the nature and purpose of election are best understood through the category of representation. That is, God elects so that God may be represented in the elect to others: Christ the elect human is God’s representative presence to humanity. Conversely, Christ the elect human also represents humanity to God. McDonald draws the connection between election and this “twofold dynamic of representation” within the imago Dei found in Christ and subsequently in the church. McDonald writes, “Jesus Christ uniquely and definitively images God and so is able uniquely and definitively to represent God to us, . . . in Christ we see the Göttlichkeit [divinity] of God in human form.”99 Subsequently, those in Christ—that is, the church community that is transformed into his image—share in the mandate of representation. For McDonald, the language of election and image are intertwined, and the task of representing God to others and others to God is what Christ and the people of God are elected toward: “To image God is the ‘divinely mandated calling’—in other words, the election—which is the basis of the church’s existence.”100 This representation by the elect means that mission moves beyond proclamatory acts of witness to becoming an ontological reality within the image-bearer, without discounting the former. Andy Johnson writes, “Moving beyond the elect’s simply proclaiming God’s complete act of reconciliation to displaying (albeit imperfectly) something of God’s redemptive activity in the

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world is a more robust understanding of the nature of the church’s participation in the missio Dei.”101 For him, to be elect means to embody the righteousness of God through the “real (ontological) transformation” of the person by the Holy Spirit. In so doing, the elected community becomes “incorporated in the missio Dei in order to become the Spirit’s channel in continuing that saving mission as the Spirit shapes them into a simultaneous display of God’s saving covenantal faithfulness/justice and holiness.”102 In other words, the church participates in the mission of God through its recovery of the imago Dei and represents God to humanity and humanity to God in Christ. Jesus Christ as the Person of Mission The concept of mission is often used to describe the biblical arc of salvation. The narrative often begins with the fall of creation in Genesis 3 and ends with the eschatological vision of the new creation in Revelation 21. God is described as being on a mission to save, redeem, and restore the world to its original state before the fall. This is accomplished by sending the Son to reconcile the world to God. The church’s mission then becomes a response to this reconciliation, whether it is through the task of evangelization or by confronting the systems of injustice. In either case, mission comes to an end with the eschaton. However, expressing mission in these terms exacerbates the problem of the distance between act and being. It can no longer be described as something intrinsic to God but instead a temporary response consequent to the fall. The mission of God must move beyond concepts of act and being if it is to be adequately characterized as something that is of God. This can only be accomplished through the concrete reality of the person in Jesus Christ, which offers a clear path toward understanding the unity of act and being in mission. This path leads to the incarnation as the focal point for God’s mission attested in the Gospels. Timothy Tennent points to multiple “Great Commission” passages in the New Testament narratives to describe the mission of God.103 Traditionally, this label has been reserved for the closing paragraph of Matthew’s Gospel to describe the final instructions given to Jesus’s disciples as a mandate for mission. However, Tennent contends that the commission can be found in each Gospel as each presents a particular facet of the same command. While his analyses of these “Great Commission” passages point in the right direction, one must reconsider the lens by which they are read. The Mission of Presence in the Incarnation The most referenced passage regarding mission is Matthew 28:18–20: “And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been

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given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.’” This statement serves as Jesus’s final instructions to his disciples before his ascension. Jesus gives the imperative to make disciples (matheteusate) of all nations according to the authority given to them by their Lord. The implication is that whatever authority that Christ claimed in the missio Dei is now given to the church. In this way, the church is justified following their orders to baptize and teach “all nations” of Christ’s commands. While this passage is informative of the task placed upon the church, the core thrust of mission is found in the indicative statement that follows, which is often overlooked. Jesus brings his final words to a close by stating, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Here, the missio Dei finds its true expression, the depiction of the gospel message as the God who is Immanuel, that “God is with us” (Mt 1:23). According to Mark Allan Powell, “The presence of God is an overriding theological motif throughout much of this [Matthew’s] Gospel.”104 It is, in fact, a theme that persists throughout the whole of Scripture. For David Fitch, “The pattern of God’s presence being with those he sends runs constant throughout the entire story of God in the Bible.”105 This theme begins in the Garden of Eden when God comes to meet human beings. However, sin causes them to hide “from the presence of the Lord” (Gen 3:8, emphasis added). The theme of presence comes full circle with the vision of Revelation 21, where the passage portrays an image of the new creation as the restoration of communion between God and humanity: See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his people’s, and God himself will be with them. (Rev 21:3)

While one can observe the theme of presence in the whole witness of Scripture, it is mainly in the Gospels that God’s presence becomes concrete in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. For Ulrich Luz, the Son cannot be understood apart from his incarnational presence. He writes, “This [Matthew’s] Christology links the earthly Jesus (1:23) with the exalted Christ (28:20).”106 Here, economy and immanence are held together, which further speaks to the mission of the church. Luz continues, If the earthly and the exalted are one, if God is present in his community in the form of Jesus, if the gospel to be proclaimed by the community is that of Jesus, then clearly the story of the earthly Jesus is already an elementary expression of the lasting presence of God in his community. Thus, God will

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remain continuously “with” his community just as he did in the story of Jesus. When members of the Matthean community read or listen to Jesus’ sayings they heard the way in which God is “with them” in the present. When they listened to what Jesus said, they heard what he is telling them today. Jesus does not . . . belong to a past age that can never repeat itself in the same way again. Instead, past and present, the history of Jesus and the community’s own experiences, constantly intermingled, just as the earthly Jesus is at once the exalted Lord and vice versa.107

In short, the presence of Christ in the church displays both act and being concepts where he is historically bound to the incarnation event but is free to speak to and in the church today. What is more, it is through the church that the mission of God continues because “the church now represents the continuing presence of Jesus on earth in a way analogous to that in which Jesus represented the presence of God.”108 This theme of incarnate presence is repeated in the Gospel of John. The verse often referred to justify mission in this Gospel is John 20:21, wherein the author writes, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” This motif of sending permeates throughout the book. Jesus repeatedly refers to himself as the one who is sent by the Father (Jn 4:34; 5:24, 30; 6:38, 44, 57; 7:16, 28, 33; 8:16–29, 42; 9:4; 11:42; 12:44–49; 13:20; 14:24; 15:21; 16:5; 17:8, 18–25). This sending culminates in 20:21, where Christ, in turn, sends out his disciples to take up his mission. However, the motif of mission and sending cannot be removed from the incarnate presence and God in his mission of self-giving and self-revealing. In his prologue, John remarks, “The Word became flesh and lived among us. . . . From his fullness we have all received . . . God the only Son, . . . who has made him known” (Jn 1:14–18, emphases added). Knowledge of God is repeatedly linked to his presence throughout John’s Gospel. In his farewell discourse, Jesus reminds his disciples that they can know the Father because Christ is in them: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father . . . [because] I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you” (Jn 14:9, 20). He then describes his being sent for the very reason to be in his disciples: And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. . . . As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. . . . I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them (Jn 17:3–26).

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Sending and knowing are intimately tied to the same missional act. In other words, incarnational presence means revelation where God gives himself and thereby reveals himself through his sending.109 The idea of presence is linked to the missionary impulse in the Gospels. Though Matthew employs the preposition “with” (meta) and John uses “in” or “among” (en) to describe this occasion, the parallels are unmistakable. This is significant because John’s theology of mission also signals the importance of Christ’s concrete presence within the life of the church. Jesus sends his disciples as the Father sends him (Jn 17:18; 20:21) just as he is present in his disciples as the Father is in him (Jn 14:20; 17:21). This in-carnate presence is qualified at the onset of the Gospel when the Word is described as one who “dwells in us” (Jn 1:14, my translation), which means that “God has chosen to give human beings an important part in the event of revelation.”110 In other words, the church as the community of Christ, which exists as the presence of Christ in concrete reality, mediates the revelation of the Word of God. Ross Hastings concludes from reading the Johannine commission that the church community is an incarnational community. He writes, “For the people of God to be incarnational as Jesus . . . is a clear calling of the church as a community, which will therefore be known in its larger community as being ‘for and with’ that community, as Jesus was ‘for and with humanity’ in his life on earth.”111 For Hastings, participation in Christ means participation in the incarnation because Christ still dwells in the church today, and together they form, to use Bonhoeffer’s language, the “collective Christ.”112 What is more, it means that the church exists as the collective person who is present in concrete and local contexts. Christ does not exist as fleeting concepts such as power, value, influence, or image, but as a person. And it is only as a person that Christ can be present to humanity. In other words, humanity can know God because Christ is concretely present to them. The Missional Presence of the Church Community Personhood defines the mission of Christ, and so it defines the mission of the church. This is opposed to the notion of the works of Christ as the starting point for understanding mission. Bonhoeffer addresses this in his Christology lectures in the form of theological inquiry, stating, “The christological question is shown to have theological priority over the soteriological question.” He continues, “I must first know who it is who does something before I can know what it is that the person has done.”113 Mission understood christologically prioritizes the person of Christ over his works. Here, attention is given to the incarnation where God sends the Son to be with humanity. Focusing on soteriology, by contrast, prioritizes the saving nature of Christ’s ministry that trades on the notion of sending whose purpose is to redeem the lost

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in creation, which climaxes in the crucifixion. In other words, God sends his Son to save humanity. Consequently, the church’s mission becomes an extension of this paradigm wherein the church becomes a mediating agent of salvation. Then, the church’s ultimate goal is to save the world as it is itself being saved from the world. While this satisfies the soteriological category, it is insufficient in addressing mission from the point of Christology. What is needed is a reexamination of mission according to Christ in his person. This does not preclude the soteriological, for it is taken up in Christology. However, soteriology as the starting point for mission does not necessarily address the christological question of person. In contrast, Christology inevitably addresses soteriology while providing greater insight into the mission of the real, incarnate, and present Christ. Up until now, the argument has been that mission describes Jesus Christ as the person who reveals himself as the incarnate presence of God. This has implications for understanding the mission of the church as it exists as the community of Christ. In Sanctorum Communio, Bonhoeffer establishes the theological foundation of the church as the community of revelation that exists as Christ’s presence on earth. The development of revelation as a concept of person in Act and Being situates Christ, and so the church, and his interaction with individuals and communities within the I-You relational framework. Bonhoeffer reinforces this notion in his Berlin lectures, where his correspondence between God and humanity—and especially the church—is one of relationality. He further qualifies this relation as God being for humanity, which then calls for a response to participate in the reality of Christ. Bonhoeffer lays the blueprint that grounds mission in the person of Christ whom God reveals as being pro nobis (for us). From this christological point of departure, one can develop an ecclesial theology of mission. The church is, in essence, Christ’s presence on earth, and so the church’s mission can only be an extension of his mission. Bonhoeffer elaborates on this dynamic in his reflections from his time with the seminary at Finkenwalde. The two notable texts that he produces from this period are Discipleship and Life Together. Both are significant because they discuss what it means to be the church in Christ. The theme of bodily presence is significant to Bonhoeffer’s understanding of the church’s participation in Christ’s mission. According to Bonhoeffer, God sends Christ into the world to reconcile lost humanity with God. However, the significant aspect of this sending is that God necessarily sends him as body and flesh for humanity’s sake. Bonhoeffer writes, “The body of Jesus Christ is the ground of our faith and the source of its certainty; the body of Jesus Christ is the one and perfect gift through which we receive our salvation.”114 Bonhoeffer does not use this as a metaphor or analogy but understands a literal and physical body to underscore the significance of the

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incarnation. Christ is the second and last Adam, the perfect human being, that comes to fulfill what the first Adam could not. Bonhoeffer asserts, God’s mercy sends the Son in the flesh, so that in his flesh he may shoulder and carry all of humanity. The Son of God accepts all humanity in bodily form, the same humanity which in hate of God and pride of the flesh had rejected the incorporeal, invisible word of God. In the body of Jesus Christ humanity is now truly and bodily accepted; it is accepted as it is, out of God’s mercy.115

Only through Christ’s bodily death and resurrection can humanity be fully reconciled to God because one cannot understand human existence apart from their created bodies. Christ’s bodily existence is significant because it informs the church’s existence as the body of Christ. His bodily presence means that his mission is more than just teaching a set of laws or principles or even necessarily declaring the status of righteousness over the individual. Rather, mission means to form true human community. In Discipleship, Bonhoeffer says that the concrete relationship between Christ and his disciples is “a necessary consequence of the incarnation.” He continues, “The incarnate Son of God who took on human flesh does need a community of followers [Nachfolgergemeinde] who not only participate in his teaching but also in his body.”116 Likewise, Bonhoeffer states in Life Together, “Christian community means community through Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ. There is no Christian community that is more than this, and none that is less than this. . . . We belong to one another only through and in Jesus Christ.”117 If receiving God’s revelation depended upon hearing or knowing the word, God would have sent it in the form of an object, such as a message or text. Instead, God sends a person in bodily form as a subject who is both fully God and at the same time fully human. Along with this full humanity is the requisite need for community, which means that Christ is with the disciples, and they are with him. Bonhoeffer writes, “Those who are baptized are still meant to live, even after the Lord’s death and resurrection, in the bodily presence of and community with Jesus.”118 This means that community and bodily presence are crucial to the mission of the church. In other words, the church’s mission is essentially relatedness to Christ and others through concrete community and bodily presence: “There is no community with Jesus Christ other than the community with his body!”119 In this way, the church shares in Christ’s mission by being his body that is present in the world. As his body, the church community exists as Christ’s presence in and for the world. This means that the church essentially takes on a relational character. In Bonhoeffer’s terms, the church is not simply an institution. Rather, it is also a person.120 The church lives for Christ as Christ lives “for us.” Living for

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Christ also means participation in his suffering and glory. Bonhoeffer views this as a grace and a privilege; to suffer for Christ is for him the mark of true discipleship: “To those who are not ashamed to belong to the community of his body, Christ, in the power of his suffering, grants in turn the immeasurable grace to suffer ‘for him.’”121 However, participation in his suffering is not for its own sake but the sake of others. Because Christ is the person who is there for others, so too does the church exist for others in its suffering: “God grants the grace to bear a special suffering on behalf of another person. . . . Such vicariously representative action and suffering, which is carried out by the members of the body of Christ, is itself the very life of Christ who seeks to take shape in his members.”122 Bonhoeffer illustrates this in Christ’s own earthly life and ministry as someone who lived among those who were hostile to him, reminding us that “Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies.”123 Christ’s incarnation, then, becomes the model by which the church lives in the world: suffering for the sake of others. Therefore, the church is also called to suffer for the sake of others because of Christ’s suffering.124 Persons in the Image of the Trinity God reveals himself as person. More to the point, he reveals himself as the person of divine relations between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Personhood becomes the basis for understanding humanity’s existence as God’s image-bearers who are created in his image as persons in relationship. In other words, the image of God found in humanity is the image of the Trinity. The imago Dei means that one must understand and engage humanity in relational terms. Jesus Christ, as the very revelation of that fact, demonstrates that mission goes beyond any observable action and determined being per se by underscoring the significance of his concrete presence in the world. This revelation, however, does not occur apart from the person of the Trinity, for Christ’s revelation does not take place apart from the Father or the Holy Spirit. Barth’s christocentric theology demonstrates the relational trinitarian nature of revelation. Bonhoeffer’s person-concept of revelation advances this notion in socio-relational terms in the context of concrete community. It is in this way that the Trinity becomes the underlying center for understanding the theology of mission. While some charge Bonhoeffer as having an undeveloped doctrine of the Trinity,125 others have argued that the Trinity is the presupposition to Bonhoeffer’s Christology and thus to his entire theology. For instance, Clifford Green sees corresponding evidence between Bonhoeffer’s understanding of God as creator, reconciler, and redeemer and Barth’s trinitarian structure of his Church Dogmatics with the trinitarian persons of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.126 Green further states that both serve as the

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organizing principle for their respective theologies.127 According to Charles Marsh, “Bonhoeffer’s project should be conceived as complementary with Barth’s massive trinitarian theology, . . . sharing the common concern of understanding the self-witness of the living God in Jesus of Nazareth and the relationship of humanity to that self-witness.”128 Timo Tavast points to a 1931 catechism developed by Bonhoeffer wherein God (the Father), the Son, and the Holy Spirit are all attested.129 Tavast also points to Ethics, especially to the opening paragraphs of “Ultimate and Penultimate Things,” where Bonhoeffer links God in his triune persons with the event of justification. This justification takes place in Christ, but also not without the Spirit: “Without him we would know nothing of Christ, just as without Christ we would know nothing of God. In him the Godhead fulfills itself on earth.”130 Hence, the Spirit is indispensable to the work of God’s revelation in Christ. The implications of such a trinitarian presupposition pose significant ramifications for understanding the nature and role of mission. Here, mission becomes a question of community. According to Bonhoeffer, the Trinity presupposes the notion of community because it structures humanity’s experience of God in an authentic, concrete, and mutually shared way. According to Marsh, revelation in Bonhoeffer’s concept of person presupposes a trinitarian grounding because any “description of community must be understood in the context of the trinitarian identity of God’s being God.”131 Revelation takes place in concrete community as Christ reveals himself, first in the incarnation and subsequently in the church where Christ exists as the church community. This community is “a demonstration of God’s desire that the fellowship he enjoys in trinitarian community gain expression in . . . mysterious, worldly, and communal otherness.”132 Thus, Bonhoeffer’s understanding of God’s inner-trinitarian dynamic informs his concept of the church. The Sin of Broken Community It is necessary to address an additional dimension of human personhood while discussing trinitarian mission—the element of sin. To ignore this would be to speak of mission in abstractions because the present reality of creation is of a fallen state. The reality of sin is crucial to Bonhoeffer’s argument regarding the notion of the church because it properly situates the church’s reality as the reconciled collective person in Christ. He writes in Sanctorum Communio, “The concepts of person and community, for example, are understood only within an intrinsically broken history, as conveyed in the concepts of primal state, sin, and reconciliation.”133 For him, sin is the gulf between the “primal state”—that is, creation—and reconciliation of humanity. In the middle stands the “radical discontinuity” of sin, the space where human beings understand themselves only in the context of their broken state of existence and cannot

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comprehend their prefallen state by their own means. Only through revelation do humans know of their state before the fall, and this they know not by looking back to creation but forward to reconciliation, for “the doctrine of the primal state is hope projected backward.”134 This is why in Sanctorum Communio, Bonhoeffer must address sin before elaborating on the church. Bonhoeffer places sin in the context of relationships. For him, it is a “new social basic-relations between I and You,”135 the status of broken community between relational beings. He describes sin as “the break in immediate community with God, and likewise in human community,” where “every person exists in complete, voluntary isolation.”136 This has consequences not only for the individual but for the whole community as well. Because humanity is created as relational beings, sin is contained in the individual sinner and the broken community. Bonhoeffer describes this from the point of the original sin in Adam, which is perpetuated throughout humanity in their broken reality. As persons in I-You relationships, the sinning I is separated from the receiving You. Not only is the I isolated in their sin, but the You is also isolated from the I and is thus left in their sinful state. The I and the You share in the brokenness of community, so no individual is unaffected by sin. Bonhoeffer writes, The [sinful] deed committed is at the same time the deed of the human race . . . in the individual person. One falls away not only from one’s personal vocation but also from one’s generic vocation as a member of the human race. Thus all humanity falls with each sin, and not one of us is in principle different from Adam; that is, every one is also the “first” sinner. . . . Every deed is at once an individual act and one that reawakens the total sin of humanity.137

In other words, sin results in the breaking of community, the peccatorum communio, which can only be restored with the formation of the church, which exists as the Christ-community. Mission as the Restoration of the Triune Image Sin severs the I-You relation between God and humanity. Consequently, relationships within humanity are equally broken. For Bonhoeffer, the solution to the sin of the broken community is the sanctorum communio. What was broken by the “first Adam” is mended by Christ—the “second” or “last Adam”—and once again, humanity is approached as a genuine objective You. Bonhoeffer writes, “The cord between God and human beings that was cut by the first Adam is tied anew by God, by revealing God’s own love in Christ, by no longer approaching us in demand and summons, purely as You, but instead by giving God’s own self as an I.” Consequently, the result is the restoration of human community, for “when God restores community between human beings and God’s own self, community among us also is restored once

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again.”138 Reconciliation with God means reconciliation with one another. Bonhoeffer understands this not in general terms but concretely in the church community. In the fallen reality, individuals live in isolation. But in the new Christ-reality, individuals live in reconciled communion with God, and this collectivity of relationships forms what Bonhoeffer refers to as the Gemeinde, which is the sanctorum communio.139 Broken community is sin because it distorts God’s image of relationality within the community of persons. Because of this, God reveals himself in his mission toward humanity. Bonhoeffer writes, “Revelation of God’s will is necessary because the primal community . . . is broken.”140 Christ realizes the church as the community that is restored from the fallen state. However, it is the Holy Spirit who actualizes the church, so one cannot speak of the church’s formation without also referring to the Spirit.141 It is here that David Emerton provides an orientation to the Holy Spirit for understanding Bonhoeffer’s ecclesiology. In his book, God’s Church-Community, Emerton argues for recentering Bonhoeffer’s dogmatic loci of the church from Christology to pneumatology.142 He states that for Bonhoeffer, it is the Holy Spirit who establishes the church. Persons are not relational in and of themselves nor in their fallen state but are restored to relationality as the Holy Spirit enters into individuals and enables them to relate to one another as I and You, for “the other is a ‘You’ only as God the Holy Spirit constitutes it thus.”143 Emerton views this formation by the Holy Spirit actualized in three ways. First, it is by creating human beings “in justification and sanctification,” thereby enabling them to “relate in freedom to God and to thus image the freedom of God as God’s free creatures in loving relation with and for one another and with and for the world.”144 Justification in Christ is made possible only by way of the Spirit, and the Spirit of God sanctifies the person as that person begins to reflect God’s freedom in their own lives. Second, the Spirit mediates this love between persons, between God and humans and among humans, which occurs in the church. According to Emerton’s third point, all this occurs within the church as a community that the Holy Spirit builds up. In this way, the Trinity forms persons of relations into their image as God reveals the communal reality of Christ that the Spirit actualizes. Thus, personhood is inextricably linked to community, and both are inextricably linked to the triune God. Consequently, the mission of God means the restoration of the relational image of persons within the broken community. It is reconciliation not only with God but also with others. Revelation means that God makes known the hope of reconciliation as well as its actualization through the sending of the Son to be with us as the reconciliation of God (Rom 5:11).

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CONCLUSION Mission as a concept of act, which understands mission as a task of God and the church, poses problems for mission theology. Not only does it assume a purpose but also a goal and an end. Mission is either seen as an ecclesiological category where the church engages the world as it sends its people and expands its message across the world, or as a soteriological category where God sends the Son to bring about the reconciliation between himself and all of creation. While both are integral aspects of mission, they also inherit an assumed point of demarcation where the task of mission is complete at the eschaton. The problem arises when at their core, God and the church are attributed as being missionary. A demarcation suggests that mission is not a part of God’s intrinsic being, thus denying his missionary nature. Likewise, mission as a concept of being reveals issues of its own. It binds mission to objects of revelation, whether it is the Bible or to the church as an institution. Indeed, both are forms of God’s Word, but they effectively denude the freedom of God to encounter human beings in the present moment. The concept of person resolves both problems while maintaining the act and being characteristics of mission. As person, mission endures with purpose while being bound to the subject and object of revelation. This notion must be understood essentially in the person of Jesus Christ. As person, Christ is sent with the purpose to reconcile humanity to God and one another (Col 1:20; Eph 2:14–16). He is revealed to be the reconciliation of God. As person, Christ also exists and is haveable to humanity. However, it is only as person that Christ can encounter humanity and be encountered in return as objective reality, and at the same time have the subjective freedom to exist for others. Revelation as object can only be there but cannot be there for others. However, revelation as person can be present to others in their midst as it relates to human beings and is related to reciprocally. Mission means sending insofar as it understands that Christ was sent to be with and for humanity. In his revelation, Christ makes himself known as the “human being for others” by taking on the fullness of humanity and vicariously suffering for that humanity. This would not be possible for an object but only for Christ as a person who is freely present among other people. He continues to be present as person existing in and as the church community. The mission of the church is a continuation of the divine missions because it is the person of Christ who is sent into the present reality in the form of the community. Therefore, Christians may participate in the mission of God insofar as they are formed as the church that exists with and for others as the present Christ.

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NOTES 1. David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), 511.‌‌‌‌ 2. Along with Bosch’s seminal work, see Stephen Neill, A History of Christian Missions (London: Penguin Books, 1964); and Scott W. Sunquist, Understanding Christian Mission: Participation in Suffering and Glory (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013).‌‌‌‌ 3. Keith Ferdinando, “Mission: A Problem of Definition,” Themelios 33, no. 1 (May 2008): 47. While acknowledging the contributions of his influential work, Ferdinando views Bosch’s assertion negatively. He attributes this erosion, in part, to the work and influence of David Bosch’s Transforming Mission, in which Bosch surveys the differing paradigms of mission as it was understood throughout Christian history, suggesting that it “moves towards a relativist and subjectivist approach to mission,” making an attempt to define mission “difficult to bring a coherent biblical or theological critique to bear on them [the various paradigms]” (48). His critical interpretation of Bosch leads him to elaborate on four contemporary approaches to understanding mission (1. the missio Dei, 2. the cultural mandate, 3. social action, and 4. making disciples of all nations), ranging from broad to narrow in their inclusivity of meanings. His descriptions draw a sharp contrast between the first approach and the rest in which the missio Dei is primarily God’s agency while the others belong more particularly to the church. Regarding the missio Dei, Ferdinando writes, “In its literal sense the Latin expression simply draws attention to the fact that all Christian mission is God’s: he alone initiates, empowers, directs, and blesses all true mission” (49). While such an understanding of mission positively brings attention to God as the agent of mission, it does little to define mission than simply saying that it belongs to God, thus legitimizing Flett’s criticism of the missio Dei as a trope. Mission and the missio Dei are still left to be defined according to the one using these terms. 4. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 9. 5. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 1. 6. Johannes Dürr, “Die Reinigung der Missionsmotive,” Evangelisches Missions-Magazin 95 (1951): 2, quoted in John G. Flett, The Witness of God: The Trinity, Missio Dei, Karl Barth, and the Nature of Christian Community (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010)‌‌‌‌, 38. 7. Johannes Dürr, “Sendung: einige Fragen und Erwägungen,” Evangelisches Missions-Magazin 98 (1954): 146, quoted in Flett, Witness of God, 39. 8. Christopher J. H. Wright, The Mission of God’s People: A Biblical Theology of the Church’s Mission (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010),‌‌‌‌ 23 (emphases added). 9. Sunquist, Understanding Christian Mission, 173 (emphasis added). 10. Andreas J. Köstenberger, The Missions of Jesus and the Disciples according to the Fourth Gospel: With Implications for the Fourth Gospel’s Purpose and the Mission of the Contemporary Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 41 (emphasis in the original). In his footnote, Köstenberger relates this mission to God’s sending and work done through Jesus, who in turn works through his disciples.

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11. John Stott, Christian Mission in the Modern World (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2008), 48 (emphasis added). 12. Stott, Christian Mission, 48. 13. John Piper, Let the Nations Be Glad: The Supremacy of God in Missions, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2003), 17. 14. Bonhoeffer understands the church as “Christ existing as community.” He contrasts this to worldly artificial constructs such as “voluntary associations” and “compulsory organizations.” Neither reflect the true nature of the church. See DBWE 1 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church, vol. 1 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998])‌‌‌, 253ff. 15. Flett, Witness of God, 62. 16. Piper, Let the Nations Be Glad, 54. 17. Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, “Together towards Life: Mission and Evangelism in Changing Landscapes,” in Ecumenical Visions for the 21st Century: A Reader for Theological Education, ed. Mélisande Lorke and Dietrich Werner (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2013), par. 1 (191).‌‌‌‌ 18. Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, “Together towards Life,” par. 2 (191) (emphasis added). 19. Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, “Together towards Life,” par. 4 (192). 20. Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, “Together towards Life,” par. 19 (193–94). 21. World Council of Churches, The Church for Others and The Church for the World: A Quest for Structures for Missionary Congregations (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1968), 15. 22. Bosch, Transforming Mission, 71. 23. John Stott, ed., “The Lausanne Covenant,” in Making Christ Known: Historic Mission Documents from the Lausanne Movement, 1974–1989 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), 24. 24. Kenneth Ross, “Bangkok 1972–73: Salvation Today,” in Ecumenical Missiology: Changing Landscapes and New Conceptions of Mission, ed. Kenneth R. Ross et al. (Oxford: Regnum, 2016), 86. 25. Birgitta Larsson and Emilio Castro, “From Mission to Missions,” in A History of the Ecumenical Movement, Vol. III, 1968–2000, ed. John Briggs, Mercy Amba Oduyoye, and George Tsetsis (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2004), 126. 26. Stott, “Lausanne Covenant,” 26. 27. Flett, Witness of God, 198. 28. Stephen R. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology: Towards a Theology of God as Missionary,” IJST 8, no. 1 (January 2006): 72. This statement is not unique to ecumenical theology. 29. Flett, Witness of God, 17. 30. John F. Hoffmeyer, “The Missional Trinity,” Dialog 40, no. 2 (Summer 2001): 109.‌‌‌‌

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31. It was Karl Rahner who supplied the axiom, “The ‘economic’ Trinity is the ‘immanent’ Trinity and the ‘immanent’ Trinity is the ‘economic’ Trinity.” Karl Rahner, The Trinity, trans. Joseph Donceel (New York: Herder & Herder, 1970), 22. 32. CD I/1 (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol. 1, edited by G. W. Bromiley and Thomas F. Torrance [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1977]), 479 (emphasis added).‌‌‌‌ 33. Bruce McCormack, “Grace and Being: The Role of God’s Gracious Election in Karl Barth’s Theological Ontology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, ed. John Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 96–98.‌‌‌‌ 34. McCormack, “Grace and Being,” 98. 35. CD II/2, 76–77 (emphasis added). 36. McCormack, “Grace and Being,” 97–98. 37. Colin Gunton, “Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election as Part of His Doctrine of God,” Journal of Theological Studies 25, no. 2 (January 1974): 383 (emphasis in the original). 38. McCormack, “Grace and Being,” 92 (emphasis in the original). 39. Gunton, “Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election,” 383 (emphasis added). 40. Gunton, “Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Election,” 384. 41. CD II/2, 95 (emphasis added). 42. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology,” 89. 43. In the words of McCormack, “The eternal processions contain the temporal missions” (“The Processions Contain the Missions: Reconstructing the Doctrine of an Immanent Trinity” [lecture, Kantzer Lectures in Revealed Theology, Deerfield, IL, October 3, 2011], https:​//​henrycenter​.tiu​.edu​/resource​/processions​-contain​-missions​ -doctrine​-of​-immanent​-trinity​/). 44. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology,” 89. 45. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology,” 82. 46. Holmes, “Trinitarian Missiology,” 83. 47. Thomas F. Torrance, Atonement: The Person and Work of Christ (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 373. 48. Vatican Council II, Ad Gentes, accessed May 6, 2021, Vatican.va, 2. 49. Faith and Order Commission, “The Church: Towards a Common Vision,” in Ecumenical Visions for the 21st Century: A Reader for Theological Education (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2013), 123. 50. Wright, Mission of God, 62. 51. Lesslie Newbigin, “The Bishop and the Ministry of Mission,” in Today’s Church and Today’s World, ed. John Howe (London: CIO Publishing, 1977), 242, quoted in Michael W. Goheen, “‘As the Father Has Sent Me, I Am Sending You’: J. E. Lesslie Newbigin’s Missionary Ecclesiology” (PhD Diss., Utrecht, Utrecht University, 2000), 357. 52. Lesslie Newbigin, One Body, One Gospel, One World: The Christian Mission Today (London: International Missionary Council, 1958), 25. 53. Newbigin, One Body, One Gospel, One World, 21 and 43 (emphases in the original). 54. CD IV/1, 663.

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55. CD I/1, 4. Cf. Paul T. Nimmo, “Church,” in The Oxford Handbook of Karl Barth, 435. 56. CD IV/1; 725 (emphases in the original German). Bosch (Transforming Mission, 372), suggests that this translation falls short of Barth’s main thrust and opts for his own translation. Bosch, too, falls short but is closer to its meaning: “Its mission (its ‘being sent’) is not secondary to its being; the church exists in being sent and in building up itself for the sake of its mission.” [Ihre Sendung ist kein Zweites neben ihrem Sein, sondern sie ist, indem sie gesendet und kraft ihrer Sendung tätig ist.] In essence, the mission of the church is the being of the church. 57. DBWE 2 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Act and Being: Transcendental Philosophy and Ontology in Systematic Theology, vol. 2 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Wayne Whitson Floyd Jr. [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996]), 105.‌‌‌‌ 58. Michael P. DeJonge, Bonhoeffer’s Theological Formation: Berlin, Barth, and Protestant Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 116.‌‌‌‌ 59. DBWE 2, 103. 60. DBWE 1, 253. 61. DBWE 2, 104. 62. Dulles (Models of Revelation [Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1992], 36–52),‌‌‌‌ categorizes these views under the model of revelation as doctrine, observed in both Fundamentalist understandings of the Bible and Catholic notions of sacred tradition. 63. Dulles (Models of Revelation, 53–83), further describes history and inner experience as other sources of revelation. 64. CD I/2, 34. 65. CD I/2, 35. 66. CD I/2, 177. 67. This is repeated in Matthew Puffer, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the Theology of Karl Barth,” in Karl Barth in Conversation, ed. W. Travis McMaken and David W. Congdon (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2014),‌‌‌‌ 51ff. 68. David K. Miell, “Barth on Persons in Relationship: A Case for Further Reflection?” Scottish Journal of Theology 42, no. 4 (1989): 541. Miell omits for the time being the inclusion of the Holy Spirit, which he describes later as the “relationship” between the Father and the Son (p. 553). 69. CD III/1, 196. 70. Miell, “Barth on Persons,” 541. 71. CD III/1, 198. 72. CD III/2, 220. 73. CD III/2, 220. 74. Miell, “Barth on Persons,” 541. 75. CD III/2, 245. 76. It is necessary to reiterate the significance of Bonhoeffer’s influence upon Barth’s later developments, for Barth’s use of Bonhoeffer illumines the significance of his concept of person towards reframing a theology of mission. As noted earlier, Barth’s understanding of the church as the space for God’s revelation takes significant cues from Sanctorum Communio. Bonhoeffer’s influence does not end here, for his person-concept of revelation is likewise taken up in the Church Dogmatics. Clifford

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J. Green (Bonhoeffer: A Theology of Sociality, rev. ed. [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999],‌‌‌‌ 192–93n19), attributes the analogia relationis as the basis of Barth’s analogia fidei. Likewise, Miell (“Barth on Persons,” 548–49), argues that the latter cannot be possible without having the former precede it. Thus, reading Barth in this way sheds light on furthering Bonhoeffer’s theology. It would be impossible for Bonhoeffer’s analogia relationis to reckon with Barth’s schema if it did not presuppose the Trinity. In this way, Barth helps clarify what Bonhoeffer leaves unexpressed. 77. CD III/1, 195. 78. Alister E. McGrath, Emil Brunner: A Reappraisal (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 91. 79. Brunner’s concept of responsibility corresponds to Bonhoeffer’s own formulation. The image of God in humans is their capacity to respond to other persons, including the divine Person. One can only conclude that Brunner would likewise affirm the analogia relationis. See McGrath, Emil Brunner, 119n127. 80. Emil Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” in Natural Theology, trans. Peter Fraenkel (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2002), 20. 81. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 23. 82. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 31. 83. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 21. 84. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 31. 85. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 31. 86. Brunner, “Nature and Grace,” 32. 87. McGrath, Emil Brunner, 96. 88. McGrath, Emil Brunner, 97. 89. See CD III/1, 194ff., where Barth acknowledges Bonhoeffer’s contributions to his own thinking. 90. Emil Brunner, Dogmatics, trans. Olive Wyon, vol. 2, The Christian Doctrine of Creation and Redemption (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2014), 44. 91. CD III/1, 200. 92. CD III/2, 41. 93. Millard Erickson, Christian Theology, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 1998), 526. 94. Gunton, “Barth’s Doctrine of Election,” 382–83‌‌‌‌ (emphasis added). 95. CD II/2, 156. 96. Gunton, “Barth’s Doctrine of Election,” 386. 97. McCormack, “Grace and Being,” 97–98. 98. Suzanne McDonald, Re-Imaging Election: Divine Election as Representing God to Others and Others to God (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 50. 99. McDonald, Re-Imaging Election, 89. 100. McDonald, Re-Imaging Election, 90. Cf. CD III/2, 222, where Barth understands the imago Dei as Christ’s representative action in his determination for humanity: “Jesus in [being] man for His fellows, and therefore the image of God.” 101. Andy Johnson, “Ecclesiology, Election, and the Life of God: A Missional Reading of the Thessalonian Correspondence,” Journal of Theological Interpretation 9, no. 2 (2015): 262 (emphasis added).

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102. Johnson, “Ecclesiology, Election,” 258. 103. Timothy C. Tennent, Invitation to World Missions: A Trinitarian Missiology for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Academic, 2010),‌‌‌‌ 127–57. Cf. Mt 28:18–20; Mk 16:14–18; Lk 24:44–49; Jn 20:19–23; and Acts 1:7–8. 104. Mark Allan Powell, Fortress Introduction to the Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 70. 105. David E. Fitch, Faithful Presence: Seven Disciplines That Shape the Church for Mission (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2016), 21. 106. Ulrich Luz, The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew, trans. J. Bradford Robinson, New Testament Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 32. 107. Luz, Theology of the Gospel of Matthew, 33. 108. Powell, Fortress Introduction to the Gospels, 78. See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Sermon on Matthew 28:20, Barcelona, Quasimodogeniti (First Sunday after Easter), April 15, 1928,” in DBWE 10‌‌‌‌(Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Barcelona, Berlin, New York: 1928–1931, vol. 10 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, edited by Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008]), 490–95. Bonhoeffer’s understanding of the incarnation agrees with this assessment for the significance of God’s presence, and this is reflected in one of the sermons from his early pastoral career that addresses Christ’s incarnate presence. In 1928, he preached on Mt 28:20 to his congregation in Barcelona about its significance. In response to the question of the meaning of God’s being “with us,” he states, “God lives, lives for the world, the world is filled with God, is transfigured, meaningful sub specie aeternitatis [under the aspect of reality]—that was the Easter message” (492). The Latin can be better translated as “in its essential form or nature.” What Bonhoeffer means is that Christ’s being with us is essential to his eternal being. At the same time, God meets each individual “in different ways to every person in every moment.” God speaks in concrete contexts in response to individual persons. In this way, Bonhoeffer holds together both act and being within the responsible self of the living Word: “God’s word is . . . one thing to a boy and a girl, something different to a man and a woman, and yet there is no age, no moment in life when Jesus’s word does not have something to say to us” (493). The eternity of Christ meets the temporality of human beings as they encounter the living and incarnate Word. 109. The famous verse, which is viewed as a summation of the gospel, verifies this: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (Jn 3:16). 110. Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991), 35. While the rendering of the text in the past tense and the use of the preposition “among” in John’s prologue is appropriate to describe the period between Christ’s birth and ascension, it is clear from the rest of his Gospel (especially in the farewell discourse and subsequent prayer) that Christ perpetually remains “in” his disciples after the ascension by way of the Holy Spirit. John most likely had this in mind with his use of en. 111. Ross Hastings, Missional God, Missional Church: Hope for Re-Evangelizing the West (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2012), 129. 112. This is what Bonhoeffer refers to as “Christ existing as church community.” See also “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Berlin:

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1932–1933, vol. 12 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Larry L. Rasmussen [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009]), 311–12. 113. “Lectures on Christology,” DBWE 12, 310. 114. DBWE 4, 213 (emphasis added). 115. DBWE 4, 214. 116. DBWE 4, 215. 117. DBWE 5, 31. 118. DBWE 4, 213. 119. DBWE 4, 216. 120. DBWE 4, 218. Cf. DBWE 1, 252ff., where Bonhoeffer’s contrast of the church as a concept of person against the idea of an institution mirrors his findings in Sanctorum Communio wherein he describes the church as a community rather than a society. 121. DBWE 4, 221. 122. DBWE 4, 222. Cf. DBWE 8 (‌Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, vol. 8 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. John W. de Gruchy [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010]), 501: “Our relationship to God is a new life in ‘being there for others,’ through participation in the being of Jesus. The transcendent is not the infinite, unattainable tasks, but the neighbor within reach in any given situation.” 123. DBWE 5, 27. 124. Scott Sunquist identifies suffering as the mark of Christ and the church’s mission. See Sunquist, Understanding Christian Mission, 209–13. 125. Christopher R. J. Holmes, “Bonhoeffer and Reformed Christology: Towards a Trinitarian Supplement,” Theology Today 7, no. 1 (2014): 28–42. 126. Cf. DBWE 6 (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics, vol. 6 of Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, ed. Clifford J. Green [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005]),‌‌‌‌ 48 and accompanying n5; and CD I/1, §10.1 (God as Creator), §11.1 (God as Reconciler), and §12.1 (God as Redeemer). 127. Clifford J. Green, “Trinity and Christology in Bonhoeffer and Barth,” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 60, no. 1 (2006): 1–22.‌‌‌‌ 128. Charles Marsh, Reclaiming Dietrich Bonhoeffer: The Promise of His Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 155.‌‌‌‌ 129. See Timo Tavast, “Comparative Study of Luther’s and Bonhoeffer’s Trinitarian Theology and Ethics,” Seminary Ridge Review 12, no. 2 (Spring 2010): 30ff. The 1931 catechism can be found in Dietrich Bonhoeffer, No Rusty Swords: Letters, Lectures and Notes from the Collected Works (London: Collins, 1965), 137–45. 130. Bonhoeffer, No Rusty Swords, 143. 131. Marsh, Reclaiming Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ix. 132. Marsh, Reclaiming Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 14. 133. DBWE 1, 62. 134. DBWE 1, 61. 135. DBWE 1, 107. 136. DBWE 1, 107–8. 137. DBWE 1, 115–16. 138. DBWE 1, 145.

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139. While the word Gemeinde has a broad range of meanings, even within Bonhoeffer’s text, the “most distinctive and fundamental usage” is, according to Clifford Green, to understand it as “Christ present as sanctorum communio.” See editor’s introduction to DBWE 1, 14. 140. DBWE 1, 142. 141. See DBWE 1, 152. 142. See David Emerton, God’s Church-Community: The Ecclesiology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (London: T&T Clark, 2020), 63–68. His argument is based on an interpretation of Bonhoeffer’s reading of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed where the confession of the church is neither subsumed under the second article confession of Jesus Christ the Son nor stands as a fourth article—thereby giving the church its own being apart from God—but it is instead subsumed under the third article of the Holy Spirit. This observation of the creed is also developed in Tom Greggs, “Proportion and Topography in Ecclesiology: A Working Paper on the Dogmatic Location of the Doctrine of the Church,” in Theological Theology: Essays in Honour of John Webster, ed. R. David Nelson, Darren Sarisky, and Justin Stratis (London: T&T Clark, 2015), 98ff. The argument rests on the absence of an in preceding ecclesiam in the Latin rendition—“We believe in one God, the Father Almighty . . . and in one Lord Jesus Christ . . . and in the Holy Ghost,” but not in the “one holy, catholic, and apostolic church.” Rather, the locus of the church is found in the work of the Holy Spirit. 143. Emerton, God’s Church-Community, 84. 144. Emerton, God’s Church-Community, 101.

Conclu​​​​​​​sion

The central argument of this book has been that understanding mission as a revelatory concept of person advances the trinitarian foundations for the theology of mission in ways that present paradigms of the missio Dei fall short. The problem identified as the break between the act and being of God’s revelation is resolved in the concept of person. In its original sense, mission described God’s trinitarian movement toward humanity that replicated the divine processions. This meaning has changed over time, and it is only in recent decades that there have been efforts to recover its original meaning. However, the lack of sufficient trinitarian reflection makes for an incomplete view of mission, thus perpetuating the break between God’s act from his being. Consequently, mission has been unable to escape the historical precedence of anthropocentrism set by the church. The missio Dei attempts to break away from this inclination by locating mission in the being of the triune God but fails to deliver any coherent trinitarian development beyond this account. Instead, the understanding of mission falls upon and conforms to pre-established patterns organized into concepts of act and being. Act concepts of mission view mission as a momentary action of God or the church that ceases with the eschaton. Such descriptions cannot attribute mission as a part of God’s eternal being. In contrast, being concepts capture mission within the objects of revelation and deny God’s freedom in the self-revealing act. What is more, mission under the missio Dei remains captive to the anthropocentrism from which it tries to distance itself. Hartenstein’s understanding of religion as an intrinsic attribute of civilization demonstrates his reliance on human structures of culture as a source of revelation. Further, his salvation-historical perspective that focuses on the end centers on the eternal destiny of humanity and the coming eschatological kingdom. This perspective subsequently shapes how the church understands mission as an operation limited to the period between the ascension and parousia. 195

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The solution to the problem of understanding mission is in the doctrine of revelation. The resulting notion is a more faithful expression of what the missio Dei intends to depict and is more consistent with its original meaning. Barth’s doctrine of the Word of God provides the point of departure for developing a robust trinitarian theology of mission. His theology frames mission as a pure transcendent act of God, thus maintaining God’s freedom. However, in his activity, God binds himself to humanity and is directed toward humanity with purpose—that is, to reveal himself as Lord and reconciler in Jesus Christ. In so doing, God reveals himself as being for humanity. This has ecclesiological implications because, for Barth, revelation necessarily takes place in the church. In correspondence with the threefold form of revelation, the church is the space where the preached Word of God is heard, the written Word is delivered, and the revealed Word is embodied. In this way, the church participates as the locus of mission as it is grounded in the revelation of the triune God. Thus, Barth’s identification of the church with revelation provides the necessary basis for a coherent understanding of mission that neither relies on anthropocentric and ecclesiocentric missional paradigms nor discounts the importance of the church’s participation in the missio Dei. Thus, the basis for mission is found in the doctrine of revelation. The concept of person advances the theology of mission by grounding the revelation of God in the concrete reality of the world. It also begins to shape our understanding of the image of God established in humanity. By understanding mission through the lens of person, characteristics of freedom and transcendence are held together with the reality of Christ’s historical existence as the Word of God. In this way, Christ encounters humanity in his revelation since the concept of person is, according to Bonhoeffer, one of relationality that connects subjects to other individuals and communities in a real and tangible way. Bonhoeffer’s description of the I-You relationship provides the musculature for understanding how God reveals himself to humanity—that is, through divine-human relationality, beginning with God as the primal divine I. Humanity can receive revelation because they are created in God’s image of relationality, which first takes place in Godself, and can respond reciprocally within I-You structures. This interaction takes place in concrete encounters between persons as they relate to one another. It also takes place in the collective person of the church as Christ’s historical form of existence as the church participates in mission by being Christ’s incarnational presence on earth. Missio Dei’s proclivity to secure mission to the trinitarian notion of sending falls short of its significance because it fails to understand it as a concept of revelation. Mission as act preserves God’s freedom in encountering humanity but fails to maintain the historical continuity of the revealed Word as the earthly presence of Christ, which has further consequences for understanding

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the relationship between God and humanity in the eschaton. Mission as being moves closer to locating itself within the divine life of the Trinity that is supposed by the missio Dei, which then begins to shape the church’s being in mission. However, this concept becomes problematic when the church’s mission is grounded in its being as a static institution that is at the disposal of humans rather than as a dynamic community of believers that form the body of Christ. It is only in understanding mission as person that one can describe a more faithful expression to the mission of God that is attested in Scripture. God sends in order to reveal, and what he reveals is the person of Christ who is for us by being with us. Humanity understands the incarnation not as a mere symbolic representation but as the actual reality of Christ existing in concrete history as the person of the church community. Christ is with us in a very real way. Because he exists as the church community, Christ is not contained in the historical pages of Scripture or historic institutions but is with us here and now, in every moment for everyone. In this way, the church participates in God’s mission by being the incarnate presence of Christ who is revealed in and for the world. Understanding mission as a person-concept of revelation adds to the ongoing development of its theology by moving beyond concepts of act and being in describing God’s movement toward the world. By grounding it in the concept of person, mission takes on another dimension that has often been neglected. The trinitarian inadequacies of the missio Dei are overcome when mission is understood as an operation of God’s revealing that supersedes its notions of sending. Mission becomes an enduring attribute in God’s relationship to humanity rather than a temporary stopgap that is resolved with the eschaton. God is indeed a missionary God in his revelation of himself as the Word of God present in concrete reality. Reframing mission in such a way also provides new paths for missiologists to consider the church’s mission. By locating it in the doctrine of revelation, mission moves beyond anthropocentric and ecclesiocentric points of departure without neglecting either aspect. Instead, both depend on the fact that individual beings and collective communities are created in God’s image of persons in relation. Recognizing the church in this way opens new considerations toward both the organization of its missionary activities as well as how it understands its own missional being. One immediate implication is to reconsider the church’s being, especially for churches that emphasize the priority of individual or personal salvation. While the message of salvation is crucial, this cannot be the starting point for the gospel message. Barth and Bonhoeffer’s contributions demonstrate that the priority of relationships between persons is essential to the mission of reconciliation. Humans are created in the image of the triune God who exists in

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mutual relationality and responsibility. Christ reveals this fact in his mission to humanity and simultaneously the reconciliation of God between persons. The contributions of both Barth and Bonhoeffer play a significant role in shaping mission theology today. However, it must also be noted that reading both theologians through a missiological lens exposes new areas of scholarship in Barth and Bonhoeffer studies. Considering what they have to say about mission provides new ways to understand both theologians with fresh perspectives and adds to the ongoing interpretation of their works. To this end, the work done here also provides a footing to interpret Barth and Bonhoeffer as mission theologians. The resulting implications call for further points of investigation. First, it raises the question of God’s being in eternity and the nature of mission in relation to creation, the fall, resurrection, and redemption. If mission is an inherent quality of God, then it is necessary to question the understanding of mission as a temporary effort to recover what is lost. Instead, mission is a quality that endures throughout eternity, even after the eschaton, because it is found in the ever-persistent relationship of God’s self-revelation toward humanity. Second, organizing mission under the doctrine of revelation, which is centered on the person of Christ, prior to its engagement with soteriology and ecclesiology and thus taking on a distinct anthropocentric focus should inform and reshape the church’s understandings and practices of mission. For instance, if the notion of concrete presence takes precedence over the priority of salvation, then this begins to change the shape of the church’s identity and missionary activity in the world. The church would be compelled to reexamine its being as the space where Christ meets humanity as person. Functions typically reserved for clergy, such as visitations to the sick and bereaved, would become standard practices for the laity. The sacraments may be understood to serve a communal function rather than a strictly individual act. Similarly, parachurch agencies would have to reevaluate their relationship to the church, let alone their legitimacy in their missionary activities. Parachurch agencies are often arranged as sodalities that supplement the church to serve a specific purpose and goal. A reconsideration would at least require churches and missions organizations to step back from programs and strategies in order to rediscover the essence of mission. In short, understanding mission as a concept of revelation invites us to critically question the church’s practices built around the priority of mediating salvation and the effects by which the success of mission is measured, which beg for further consideration. Third, a relational account of mission must be further explored based on God’s own trinitarian life. God reveals that he is triune, and the inner dynamic between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is relational. This image of God that

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is in humanity is what is lost in the fall. Mission, then, becomes the restoration of God’s image of relationality that frees humanity to relate to God and others as persons in relation with one another. Human beings are reconciled to God and one another by recovering the image of relationality as a distinctive character of human identity. This relational account calls churches to reappraise their understanding of mission as the restoration of relations between persons that adequately reflect God’s own triune life. What this might mean practically warrants further consideration.

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Index

act and being, 5, 31, 93, 106, 146–47, 155–56, 176, 178, 186, 191–92n108, 195, 197. See also Bonhoeffer, Dietrich analogia relationis, 106, 135–37, 170– 71, 173, 190n76, 190n79 Aquinas, Thomas, xv, 6–7 Augustine, Saint, xiv, 3–6, 7, 33n13, 34n33 Barmen Declaration, 23–24, 39n132 Barth, Karl: Bonhoeffer’s use of, 106; on natural theology, 112n23, 171–73; on religion, 49–53, 77n38-39, 85, 86–87, 112n31; on Scripture, 48–49, 103–6, 109–10, 163–64 Bavnick, Herman, 11 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich: on act and being, xiii–xvi, 123–30, 134, 138–39, 168–69; on the church, 106–7, 130–35, 140–42, 146, 168, 180–85; on freedom, 129–30, 137–39, 143, 145, 185 Bosch, David, xiii, 8, 18, 30, 34n30, 53, 72, 156–7, 161, 187n3, 189n56 Brandenburg missionary conference (1932), 44, 84, 88, 90–91 Bromiley, Geoffrey W., 89, 97, 115n75

Brunner, Emil, 63–64, 67, 171–73, 190n79 Buber, Martin, 149n59 Busch, Eberhard, 48, 101 Christendom, xii, 8–9, 13, 15, 19, 23, 33n2, 43, 57, 69–70, 74, 113n34 the church: as Christ’s presence, 106–8, 110, 134, 139–42, 155, 178–80, 196; mission of, 10, 18–22, 23–27, 31–32, 36n57, 39–40n132, 61, 71–74, 84, 88–90, 91–93, 100–109, 118–19n147, 123, 135, 155, 157–59, 166–68, 177–78, 181 colonialism. See mission creation, 47, 65–67, 72, 78n73, 92, 98, 129, 136–37, 162, 169, 171, 180, 183–184; before the fall, 99, 133, 165–66; mission of, 2, 4, 7, 29, 71, 75n9, 101, 175; new, 87, 97, 109, 150n77, 160, 176–77; restoration of, 18, 56 dialectical theology, 16, 44, 50–51, 57–58, 88 election, doctrine of, 94, 98–100, 114–15n67, 116n88, 118–19n147, 164–65, 174–75 215

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eschatology, xv, 16, 43, 44, 53–57, 68–72, 73, 78n64, 87, 97, 133, 150n77, 176–77 Flett, John, xii, 20, 27, 30–31, 32, 57–58, 68, 74, 88–89, 158, 162–63, 187n3 freedom, xvi, 26, 50–51, 65, 68, 97, 103, 109, 123, 127, 149n48, 164, 169, 171, 195–96. See also Bonhoeffer, Dietrich Goodall, Norman, 17, 20 Great Commission, 2, 19–20, 157, 176, 191n108 Green, Clifford, 49, 107, 131, 136, 145, 149n59, 151n115, 183, 193n139 Guder, Darrell L., xi, 20, 113n47, 113n52 Gunton, Colin, 165, 174 Hartenstein, Karl, xiii–xv, 13, 15–16, 17, 21, 23–24, 43–45, 49–50, 53–54, 57–74, 79n96, 80n131, 83–84, 110, 121, 155, 195; on religion, 61–68, 75–76n2, 80n131 Hoekendijk, Johannes Christiaan, 25, 32, 74 Holmes, Stephen R., 163, 165–66 Holy Spirit, xii–xiii, 3–7, 12, 17–18, 20, 25–26, 31, 48–49, 55, 62, 87, 91, 94, 98, 101, 108, 114–15n67, 159, 167–68, 182–83, 185, 193n142 Hunsinger, George, 89 I-You (I-Thou), 32, 123, 131, 136, 138, 146, 149n59, 170–71, 180, 184, 196 Ignatius of Loyola, Saint, xv, 8–10, 34n33 imago Dei, xvi, 3, 32, 123–24, 132, 135, 137–38, 146–47, 170–76, 182, 185, 190n79, 191n100, 196–99 incarnation, xvi, 6, 48–49, 55, 64, 95–99, 106, 110, 115n69, 144–46,

151n115, 166, 169, 174, 176, 177– 79, 191n108, 197 Jesus Christ: existing as church community, 107, 131–35, 140, 186, 197 kingdom of God, 12, 15, 18, 21–22, 24–25, 46, 53, 56, 64, 66, 68–69, 71–72, 73–74, 158, 161, 195 Lausanne Movement: Lausanne (1974), 161–62; Cape Town (2010), 167 Lehmann, Paul L., 18 Luther, Martin, 9, 35n39, 138, 149n48 McCormack, Bruce, 37n77, 45–46, 55, 78n64, 99, 115n69, 164–65, 175, 189n43 missio Dei, xii–xv, 1–2, 12–13, 15–16, 17–18, 21–24, 26–32, 43–44, 58, 72–74, 83–84, 98, 110, 157, 159, 162–163, 165, 176–177, 187n3, 196–197 missiology, 12, 21–23, 36n57, 163; German, 57–58, 72; metapraxis of, xiv, 7–8, 10–12, 34n32 mission(s): colonialism and, xi–xiii, 8–11, 15, 23, 30, 34–35n34, 70, 90; definitions of, 35n35, 89–93, 156–58; as sending, 2–3, 6–7, 10–11, 17, 18, 21–22, 24, 31, 87, 91, 93, 98, 158–59, 163, 165, 175, 178–80, 186. See also Trinity Moltmann, Jürgen, 54, 78n64 Newbigin, J. E. Lesslie, 19–22, 167 Niebuhr, H. Richard, 19, 142, 152n128 peccatorum communio, 109, 132, 183–84 person, concept of. See revelation, impression of Pietism, 16, 19, 38n104, 58, 70

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pro nobis (for us), 75n8, 97–98, 137, 140, 180, 182, 197 processions. See Trinity Rahner, Karl, 188n31 reconciliation, 5, 31–32, 56, 93–94, 95–98, 109, 127, 133, 161, 176, 184–86, 197–98 religion, xv, 16, 26, 27–28, 43, 44, 46, 58, 60, 69–70, 73, 77n56, 90, 113n38, 155, 195 representation, 92, 109, 145–46, 175– 76, 178, 182, 191n100, 197 responsibility, xvi, 28–29, 32, 41n159, 131, 141–147, 149nn59–60, 152n128, 153n143, 170–72, 190n79, 191–92n108, 198 resurrection, 47, 54–55, 68, 71–72, 75n9, 78n73, 85, 90, 95–96, 110, 112n23, 134, 181 revelation: as concept of person, xiii– xvi, 31–32, 48–49, 59, 95–96, 106, 155–56, 168–69, 174, 180, 182–83, 186, 190n76, 192n120, 195–198; impression of, 50, 52, 60–62, 74–75n2, 86–88 Rossel, Jacques, 15, 57, 84, 91, 113n35 Scripture, 2, 21, 27, 31, 59–60, 67, 70, 92, 94, 96, 101, 115–16n84, 169, 177, 186, 197

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sin, 50–51, 56, 61, 64, 70, 75n9, 87, 96, 107, 124, 134, 140, 150n83, 151n115, 172, 183–85 sociality, 107, 122, 123, 128, 131– 33, 136, 145 Stott, John, 158–59, 162 Thangaraj, M. Thomas, 27–29, 32, 74 Torrance, T. F., 24, 46, 53, 55–56 Trinity: eternal processions of, 6–7, 98, 115–16n83, 166, 170, 174; immanent and economic, xiii, 163, 166; and revelation, 3–4, 27, 32, 49, 94–95, 100, 163, 170, 182; temporal missions of, 3–4, 6–7, 12, 31, 49, 91, 98, 115–16n84, 170, 174, 186, 189n43 Vicedom, Georg, 21–25 Warneck, Gustav, 11 Willingen missionary conference (1952), 1, 17–18, 20–25, 31, 43, 157, 163, 166 the Word of God: made flesh, 48–49, 96–97, 99, 101, 115, 178, 180–81; threefold form of, 48–49, 101–2, 104, 106, 110, 196 World Council of Churches, 40n157, 41n165, 160, 162, 166; Busan, South Korea (2013), 28 Wright, Christopher J. H., xi, 157, 159, 166

About the Author

Benjamin H. Kim (PhD, University of Aberdeen) is associate professor of theological studies at SUM Bible College and Theological Seminary in El Dorado Hills, California. This is his first book.

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