THE GREAT PASSION: AN INTRODUCTION TO KARL BARTH’S THEOLOGY

Written by Eberhard Busch Reviewed By Rob Price

By all appearances, this is a decidedly unfair contest of introductions. In the Eerdmans corner, wearing a flashy black-and-orange dust-jacket, is the Eberhard Busch, veteran interpreter and biographer of Barth. He served as Barth’s personal secretary in the late 1960s and now occupies the very chair in Reformed theology at Göttingen first held by Barth himself. In the Ashgate corner, in flat, dark brown newcomer is Joseph Mangina. Would anyone care to wager on the outcome?

Busch begins with a three-chapter tour of Barth’s life and thought and continues with ten chapters of theological description and analysis. Busch is keen to defend Barth against unfair criticism, withholding criticism of his own, and is more interested in the continuities in Barth’s thought than its shifts or developments. (It is curious, therefore, that he nonetheless affirms the von Balthasar thesis of a turn from dialectic to analogy (26). McCormack’s work in not mentioned.) Busch’s style is vigorous, if quirky, and he excels at pointing out the political and ideological issues that so often lurk just beneath the surface of Barth’s writing.

The strength of Busch’s work is the way in which he draws together, with astonishing ease, clusters of mutually-illuminating themes from across Barth’s corpus. For example, the chapter subtitled ‘Gospel and Law, Ethics’ treats these themes as well as Christ’s fulfilment of the law, human pride and sloth, the relation between church and state, and social justice. Busch sets this discussion against the backdrop of the ethical systems advanced in pre-war Germany and draws on an array of Barth’s writings from the Romans commentary through to the Church Dogmatics (‘CD’) This very scope and complexity, however, while offering much to experienced readers of Barth, may overwhelm those seeking an introduction.

Mangina, by contrast, provides precisely this: a clear and direct introduction—and does so brilliantly. Following a crisp, one-chapter overview of Barth’s life, context, and magnum opus. Mangina guides readers through successive volumes of the CD (four chapters). He addresses separately Barth‘s ecclesiology and ethics (one chapter), and then offers some ‘concluding reflections’ on Barth’s significance for the ecumenical movement (one chapter). Mangina’s experience teaching introductory courses on Barth is evident throughout. He avoids Barth-speak (what is ‘revealedness’ anyway?), defines words like ‘dialectical’, ‘ontic’, and ‘anhypostasia’, and is not averse to a bit of well-timed humour (87: ‘Barth’s theology of creation is not what made him famous’).

In each of the five central chapters, Mangina employs two wonderfully helpful devices to highlight the major contours and the contemporary relevance of Barth’s theology.

First: each chapter begins by identifying a ‘basic move’ in Barth’s thought, a handle for how he approaches his subject. Mangina explains that Barth’s doctrine of revelation (CD I) is not primarily concerned with the epistemological problem of how we may speak of God, but rather with the fact that God has already spoken to us. Barth’s ‘basic move’ is an assertion not about human, but about divine action: God speaks (29). CD I explains who this speaking God is (the Triune), what he speaks (Jesus Christ), and how he speaks it (the Holy Spirit, Scripture, church proclamation). With this ‘basic move’ in mind, students should find the prospect of dipping into CD I much less intimidating.

Second: each chapter concludes with a section in which Mangina sets ‘Barth in Dialogue’ with one of an ecumenically broad range of theologians: George Lindbeck’s postliberalism (vis-à-vis CD I), Jewish theologian Michael Wyschogrod’s doctrine of election (CD II), Stanley Hauerwas’s approach to suffering (CDIII), Robert Jenson’s account of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection (CD IV), and Henri de Lubac’s understanding of the church. These dialogue partners are not mere foils for Barth’s genius. Rather, through them, Mangina is able not only to challenge certain aspects of Barth’s thought, but also to convey how surprisingly broad an impact Barth has continued to have across (and beyond) the confessional spectrum.

Appearances aside, then, Mangina has written a far more serviceable and constructive (and enjoyable) introduction, which, like all really good introductions, speaks to more than simply the beginners.


Rob Price

Rob Price
Talbot School of Theology
La Mirada, California, USA