The alpine thunderclap to which Karl Barth likened God’s supernatural Word from above was largely muffled into a “bang” for social revolution as Union Theological Seminary concluded its December colloquium commemorating the contribution of the Basel giant, who died in 1968. Health problems prevented Marcus Barth, distinguished son of the eminent theologian, from expounding his father’s role as an exegete and his influence on biblical interpretation, but he attended and emphasized that Barth’s systematic theology was really exegetical theology and that 15,000 Bible references permeate the writings.
Conservative interpretations of Barth are not, however, currently in vogue. Moreover, as Otto Piper (who knew Barth from Gӧttingen days in 1922) observed, despite the distinguishing charismatic exegetical element in Barth’s writings since even the Römerbrief, the life of Jesus and the content of the Gospels did not really become constitutive of his theology. Many theologians are now interested in Barth mainly with an eye on social confrontation.
Union Seminary president J. B. Mosley, an Episcopalian, welcomed the 200 invited participants to an opportunity to “pray for Barth” and the ongoing use of his gifts in eternal realms of undimmed light. The subsequent hours, some dramatic and some dull, were shaped more by Barth’s attitude and method than by the substance of his theology. Scheduled to speak on “How Barth Changed My Mind,” former Union president John C. Bennett acknowledged no startling reversals but concentrated on some of Barth’s agreements with Bennett’s own views. Bennett spoke appreciatively of Barth’s radicalism in dealing with social injustice (he called him an inspirer of revolution): his open-ended theology, despite its punctuation by imperial dogmatic emphases; and his Christian humanism. He notably paid Barth tribute for maintaining the authority of ethical imperatives in a day when exceptions erode all moral rules.
On Barth’s view of the relation of theology and philosophy, Yale philosopher John E. Smith and the respondent Robert W. Jenson of Lancaster split irreconcilably. Both stressed differences between Barth’s principles and practice; Smith emphasized also that Barth was inescapably obligated to logical constraints and logical interpretation despite his contrast of revelation and philosophy, and that not even in the Church can men divest themselves of rationality. He protested Barth’s bypassing of the inescapable human conditions that belong to man as man. Jenson depicted Barth as essentially Augustinian, an adversary of compartmentalization, and insisted that he had not disengaged revelation and reason. Dr. S. Paul Schilling said Barth’s writings reflect both views.
With its transition to church and world concerns the colloquium moved to the “nitty-gritty” for many participants. Church proclamation in Barth’s view, said Philip Lee, is “not anything and everything” (pollution, Viet Nam, black/white power) but the specific Word of God, and a Christian minister is not one who can “do everything” (fund-raising, community òratory, counseling) but one who proclaims God’s Word. But John Deschner stressed that Barth nonetheless made political activism necessary to theological existence, as witness the Barmen Declaration. Barthian political action, however, required church reform, not a revolutionary cadre. Many participants questioned the relevance of Barthian otherworldliness to present political struggles, and demanded more specific, programmatic, and revolutionary political assault, although some asked whether Barth’s call for church renewal might not today require a Luther-like response instead of the prevalent ecumenical mood. Niebuhr, it was urged, projected long-range remedies and sought institutional change, but Carl Henry called attention to Barth’s warning against confusing the content of the New Covenant with the socio-political ideals of a particular historical age.
Gabriel Vahanian defended Barth against accusations of cultural irrelevance, indifference, and anti-cultural theology. Michael Novak depicted Barth as really a theologian of Swiss culture, much surer of what culture is than many young people today going without one. Marcus Barth explained that by culture Barth meant humanity at its best, not what Americans mean (civilization, or way of life). Carl Henry declared it ironical that while Barth expounded revelation and culture antithetically, he tapered his view of internal divine revelation to the massive modern culture-prejudice that the observable world of nature and history is unstructured by purpose, intelligible decision, and personal acts.
But in the closing hours, interest in Barth was shifted from the eternal city to earthly politics, in a move congenial to Union Seminary. Paul Lehmann, expounding Barth as a theologian of permanent revolution, said that Augustine was the first theologian to make the city a central theme, and called Barth and Ellul theological urbanists. Preaching becomes for Barth a political act, he said, since it prepares for just decisions and liberating acts in the present; theology too is a political act, through its concern with decision that leads to hope-giving rehumanizing possibilities. Lehmann scarcely reflected the kerygmatic element in Barthian proclamation; rather, he found in Barth a transforming confrontation for our revolutionary times, and channeled the “Wholly Other” into socio-political change. In closing remarks Lehmann said he opposes “liberation without reconciliation” and spoke critically of Frederick Herzog, his former student and Barth’s, the assigned respondent. Herzog has scorned revolutionary theology that does not tell how the “hard revolution” is to come off, and has insisted on concrete commitments in the black-white conflict and on peace-war issues. Lehmann said the “the Gospels give us ulcers, not a program of social action,” and that Christian concern for the permanent human factor is what “keeps even the revolution from becoming another problem.” But he assented to Herzog’s specific political objectives.
Paul Minear thought the Gospel more inherently offensive to revolutionaries than recognized, in that it calls us to God himself, not to be permanent revolutionaries. Not a few participants offered the opinion that Barth would resist the use of his name and theology for revolutionary ends, asserting that, as in the Hungarian revolt, so in America now, he would demand to know what the projected revolution had to do with Christ’s resurrection. But James Cone voiced the Union mood: even when not elaborating a program for the revolution, we must give concrete content to Christ’s presence.
Herzog observed at one point that Barth doubtless was observing the colloquium with heavenly pride, measured amusement, and some satisfaction that “my moment was bound to come even at Union Seminary.” When it was suggested, however, that the way American theologians can best honor Barth is by each steadfastly doing “his own thing,” nobody reported a Barthian “Amen.”
