A good deal of discussion was aroused in Europe recently by the apparent change of mind in the Basel theologian, Fritz Buri. Professor Buri had written a book in which the tones of Reformation faith were distinctly audible. This was coupled with a wide-spread rumor that Buri had undergone a spiritual conversion under the influence of Karl Barth. What made the situation fascinating is the fact that this particular theologian was well known as a representative of an extreme liberal school of theology. His previous publications had established him in that position. He was a disciple of the thought world of Albert Schweitzer, particularly in regard to New Testament eschatology. He held that the New Testament was consistently eschatological and that its eschatological hopes had proven unfounded. This position has found defenders among such men as Martin Werner as well as Buri himself. Furthermore, Buri had been occupied in writing a dogmatics which was profoundly permeated with philosophical existentialism.
What interests us is the fact that Buri’s book has awakened a certain distrust among readers. Reading Buri’s book, one cannot escape the impression that a real and radical change has come over this Swiss theologian. But it is also apparent that among those discussing the book many feel it almost impossible that a genuinely liberal theologian could possibly become converted to orthodoxy. This suspicion is what concerns me here.
We encounter a conversion from Protestantism to Rome occasionally as well as from Rome to Protestantism. But a conversion from liberalism to evangelical orthodoxy sometimes seems too much for us to expect. We hardly count on such things taking place anymore. We speak rather glibly about the self-evidence of the Gospel; we talk about the sword of the Spirit. But we do not entertain the expectation that something is actually going to happen by the power of the Spirit. In this instance, many hardly dare trust Buri’s interest in the Reformation faith. They speak as though the lines are irretrievably drawn. I also have the impression that our theological discussions are often rendered fruitless simply by the prevalence among us of a similar attitude of hopelessness.
Should we not rather, in our theological discussions, count on the possibility of changes in men’s thinking through the power of the Word of God? Do we still believe in the usefulness of our theological labors? Do we still believe in Paul’s insistence that the Word of God is not bound (2 Tim. 2:9)? I cannot help recalling the time of the Reformation when there was a stringently worked out theological system (scholasticism); the position within it was heavily fortified with logic and authority. But the renewed study of Holy Scripture brought about a great change, one that recreated the whole situation in Europe. Is our polemic with liberal theology only a game we are playing? Is it carried on with expectation that something wonderful can happen, that profound changes can take place? Or do we work with the silent assumption that the theological fronts will remain unchanged until the coming of Jesus Christ?
I do not mean to imply that readers of such books as the new one of Buri should not subject them to keen analysis. I know that writings of theologians have sometimes worn the word clothing of orthodoxy while the content was still liberal. But if we meet every evidence of change of mind with suspicion, we ought to ask ourselves if we still believe in the power of the Word of God. If we always suspect that nothing is really changed, it may be that we have lost faith in the clarity of Scripture. Do we really believe in the power of the truth?
Our times are charged with spiritual struggle in theological matters as well as in others. Everything seems to have become part of a crisis; nothing seems to be certain. Orthodox theology surely is part of the critical picture. On the other hand, there is a strong interest manifest in the Word of God. We cannot discount the possibilities resident in this interest. Whenever God’s Word is being studied, the results are unpredictable. We must not rule out the possibility of surprises in the area of theology. I am personally convinced that we all need a rebirth of faith in the possibilities that lie within the power and self-evidential character of the Gospel. This does not mean we should be uncritical, quickly rushing to the conclusion that every change in manner of expression is a return to the Gospel. But we must not count out the working of the Holy Spirit. Where we lose this faith, our theological work is empty and useless. It serves only to express something of what we believe and think.
Consider, for example, the imperatives of our conflict with Rome. Often we carry on this conflict as though we were simply letting the other side know what we are thinking about rather than as though we were carrying on a discussion with profoundly significant issues at stake. This comes about because we really do not expect our polemic to issue in anything fruitful. We hardly dare believe that Rome can change.
Is it impossible to suppose that new avenues of thought can be opened by the Spirit? Is it not right to suppose that once men interest themselves in the Bible they are no longer left to themselves, that they may be in the powerful guidance of the Word which still is sharper than any two-edged sword? I think that we may believe that it is right to count on the power of the Word. This is why we should be critical of every change that seems to make itself manifest in men’s thinking, but also why we should never be distrustful.
In theology we are not dealing with something that arose in a dark corner somewhere, but with a Gospel full of grace and power. Those prophets who prophesy for bread are able to be absolutely sure of the future. But the true prophet is full of expectation, throws himself into the conflict, and then runs to the window to see what God shall bring about.
