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Thursday, January 26, 2012
Talking with the Great Books
The "Great Books" posts are primarily going to be a reflection on my studies at HMU. I think it might not be bad to have an outlet as I'm forming some of my ideas, and since I'm working in a Great Books program, the name is apt. These sorts of posts will be examining ideas across authors, usually those who are in the "Western Canon" but also relating to those I'm simply familiar with. So anything labeled "Great Books" is going to be what some folks call "syntopical within the western canon".
Saturday, January 7, 2012
§1.1 (Die Aufgabe der Dogmatik, Kirche, Theologie, Wissenschaft KD I/1 1-10)
Barth begins with the assertion of dogmatics as a theological discipline, and theology as a function of the church. This is immediately followed by the confession of the church through the church's speaking of God.
These three sentences are fundamentally different from the manner in which most people think about theology. I say most people, because there are enough both outside and inside the church who think that we can't talk about God at all, or that it's an empty concept. Inside the church, (and, I suppose, outside as well) there are enough who see theology as a function of the academy.
Barth is not only disagreeing with those views, he's doing so in a place where he has to presuppose some of the things that are normally "proven" here - the existence of God, the ability to engage in God-speak, the scientific nature of theology. Barth wants to argue that theology is unique only in that it turns to the specific task which other sciences could have, but never actually have, done. Christian philosophy, he notes, could have done the job, but when it was Christian, it wasn't philosophy, and when it was philosophy, it wasn't Christian. The scientific theology turns to the critique and correction of God-speech by the measure of the Church's own principle. We need it because no other discipline does it, and we need it because it as a discipline, at the end of things, does only this.
Other sciences, other disciplines, could still do the job. The highest point of each discipline could be in this task - and we need neither to bemoan nor justify that it is not; it is not, and the vacuum that this creates cannot be endured. Theology is a discipline of need, because we can't do without this task, and the other disciplines have failed to carry it out. This is an interesting view of theology and the sciences - not quite the "queen of the sciences" in the way that some of us might secretly hope for, but certainly the queen in that the master of it has a connection to every other discipline; as someone recently said to me "you theologians have to know a little bit about everything to make anything in your discipline make sense to the real world."
This really seems to be the case. The ivory tower theologian can't be a real theologian, because we have to not only live in the world, but give an account to the Church. We can't disconnect our task from other disciplines, because our task is tied up in the human-ness of humanity. As Luther long before, vera theologia practia est. That's not to say it is "practical theology", the academic distinction, rather, that because it is a function of the Church, it has to have connection to our life and our life of faith. We remove ourselves from the common human experience if we don't keep this connection alive, and that removal prevents theology, and dogmatics, from carrying out the very task on which it lives.
These three sentences are fundamentally different from the manner in which most people think about theology. I say most people, because there are enough both outside and inside the church who think that we can't talk about God at all, or that it's an empty concept. Inside the church, (and, I suppose, outside as well) there are enough who see theology as a function of the academy.
Barth is not only disagreeing with those views, he's doing so in a place where he has to presuppose some of the things that are normally "proven" here - the existence of God, the ability to engage in God-speak, the scientific nature of theology. Barth wants to argue that theology is unique only in that it turns to the specific task which other sciences could have, but never actually have, done. Christian philosophy, he notes, could have done the job, but when it was Christian, it wasn't philosophy, and when it was philosophy, it wasn't Christian. The scientific theology turns to the critique and correction of God-speech by the measure of the Church's own principle. We need it because no other discipline does it, and we need it because it as a discipline, at the end of things, does only this.
Other sciences, other disciplines, could still do the job. The highest point of each discipline could be in this task - and we need neither to bemoan nor justify that it is not; it is not, and the vacuum that this creates cannot be endured. Theology is a discipline of need, because we can't do without this task, and the other disciplines have failed to carry it out. This is an interesting view of theology and the sciences - not quite the "queen of the sciences" in the way that some of us might secretly hope for, but certainly the queen in that the master of it has a connection to every other discipline; as someone recently said to me "you theologians have to know a little bit about everything to make anything in your discipline make sense to the real world."
This really seems to be the case. The ivory tower theologian can't be a real theologian, because we have to not only live in the world, but give an account to the Church. We can't disconnect our task from other disciplines, because our task is tied up in the human-ness of humanity. As Luther long before, vera theologia practia est. That's not to say it is "practical theology", the academic distinction, rather, that because it is a function of the Church, it has to have connection to our life and our life of faith. We remove ourselves from the common human experience if we don't keep this connection alive, and that removal prevents theology, and dogmatics, from carrying out the very task on which it lives.
Alberto Coffa said, "A fool-proof
method to transform something obvious into something unbelievable is
to ask a philosopher to explain it to you." We dare not do this as theologians, nor as Christians. It doesn't help a bit to get to point D if you can't get someone else from A there, through B and C.
Barth also notes some good reasons to keep the idea of theology as a science, but cautions that even if theology calls itself a science, it is in no way obligated to hold to the standards that the other sciences have for themselves. Theology can relate to the other disciplines, but must understand herself as a science of necessity, something there to fill the gaps when we can't endure their presence. And yet, theology may be more a science than anything else which goes by that name, for it also must say what it is that is to be understood under the term "science", and when this is a matter of human knowledge, it becomes a matter of how humans rightly speak about the things that are objectively true.
One of the reasons Barth gives for calling theology a science is to remind us that it's human effort, and to show solidarity with the other human efforts of knowledge. Thus, we aren't raising theology up to be the equal of other sciences, we are admitting that the human effort involved in it forces a condescension to the level of the other sciences. We must be reminded of the inescapable profanity (as in, non-sacredness) in trying to carry out the task of theology.
A last interesting point is that Barth notes that it can't hurt the university to have theology under the same roof as the other sciences, to remind everyone that traditions are traditions next to other traditions (and to remind the Church that Aristotle is not her originator!). This reminds me of some of the discussion on the role of theology in the public university, that was in JAAR last year. It's a fact of life in Germany, though some might like to change it. I think that it doesn't hurt to have it there, but I see how it would be really problematic to be 100% fair. Well, as long as I'm a part of the majority who gets the benefit, I can enjoy it, right?
The Introduction (KD I/1, VI-XII)
Barth's forward, written in August of 32, is informative for his whole project. It's clear that all the way to the last volume, we have to read it in light of what he says to us about it at the beginning of the first volume.
Important is his own admission of how much he had to learn. Even to rewrite the "first book", that is, to start this project as a suggested continuation of his draft, he notes that he wanted to say the same thing as before, but couldn't say it in the same manner. Reading the KD is reading the process of Barth growing as a theologian, just as it is the process of the reader growing as a theologian by interacting with Barth's thought.
Barth introduces dogmatics, even in the forward, as a science bound to the church; never a free science. In fact, for Barth, it is only possible here. He can't hold back from his project in describing and justifying his project, and the content of §1 begins to show already in the forward. But the forward itself is dogmatics, and not merely an introduction.
It is here that we see the famous sentence on his opinion of the analogia entis, and some surprising comments which already give us the characteristic Barthian tone about the accusations against him. Barth replies to the accusation that he's a scholastic, a cryptocatholic, and, satired from him, that church history appears not to have begun for him in 1517 with the assertion that he's just gonna say what he said already once more, and this time more clearly - he's sure of his position - after all, the connection between reformation and ancient church, between trinitiy, christology, and the Bible, and (implicit) Barth's theological connection to the theological history of all of christian history wasn't his "malicious invention".
Barth closes by laying out his plan for the entire project, in short sentences - which he notes was by the wish of the publisher. Would he have done it otherwise? We can't know.
Interesting also, is the request at the very end - Barth asks us as readers to just believe him, that he knows where he wants to go with this. We aren't to wait and see, and we aren't to assume he's running into the sand, but we can go ahead and look at each part as a part of a coherent whole. It may be first evident later, but this is the result of great amounts of thought, of study, and of prayerful, church, dogmatics.
Important is his own admission of how much he had to learn. Even to rewrite the "first book", that is, to start this project as a suggested continuation of his draft, he notes that he wanted to say the same thing as before, but couldn't say it in the same manner. Reading the KD is reading the process of Barth growing as a theologian, just as it is the process of the reader growing as a theologian by interacting with Barth's thought.
Barth introduces dogmatics, even in the forward, as a science bound to the church; never a free science. In fact, for Barth, it is only possible here. He can't hold back from his project in describing and justifying his project, and the content of §1 begins to show already in the forward. But the forward itself is dogmatics, and not merely an introduction.
It is here that we see the famous sentence on his opinion of the analogia entis, and some surprising comments which already give us the characteristic Barthian tone about the accusations against him. Barth replies to the accusation that he's a scholastic, a cryptocatholic, and, satired from him, that church history appears not to have begun for him in 1517 with the assertion that he's just gonna say what he said already once more, and this time more clearly - he's sure of his position - after all, the connection between reformation and ancient church, between trinitiy, christology, and the Bible, and (implicit) Barth's theological connection to the theological history of all of christian history wasn't his "malicious invention".
Barth closes by laying out his plan for the entire project, in short sentences - which he notes was by the wish of the publisher. Would he have done it otherwise? We can't know.
Interesting also, is the request at the very end - Barth asks us as readers to just believe him, that he knows where he wants to go with this. We aren't to wait and see, and we aren't to assume he's running into the sand, but we can go ahead and look at each part as a part of a coherent whole. It may be first evident later, but this is the result of great amounts of thought, of study, and of prayerful, church, dogmatics.
New Ideas
I'm going to try to have some regular features on this blog, and to deal with my thoughts in a more systematic manner. Stay tuned for an introduction (throughout the next week) to the regular posts I will be making, as well as some of the categories I'm going to begin using.
I'll be doing at least two regular series on a weekly basis, as well as adding the categorical element to what I hope will become more regular blogging.
I'll be doing at least two regular series on a weekly basis, as well as adding the categorical element to what I hope will become more regular blogging.
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