Barth, Karl. Church Dogmatics I/2.
I don’t think this is one of Barth’s more important contributions, but it is one on which most Evangelicals think he is “the bad guy.” It is in this volume where he more explicitly denies that the text in your hands is the revelation of the Word of God. Rather, it is a witness to that revelation. What Barth is actually doing is making use of the divine/human model of Christology and applying it to Scripture.
On other areas he explores how is model impacts dogmatics within the Church and the proper limits of Church authority. He makes an important point that is often missed by evangelicals: he is adamant to deny that the church is in any sense the custodian of God’s revelation (and keep in mind on Barth’s gloss, revelation does not necessarily equal Scripture). When churches do this (EO and Rome), they make themselves above God’s revelation and beyond any real critique. Barth’s model, by contrast, can assign a lot of authority to the church while never fearing of an abuse of infallibility claims.
Barth gives an unusually careful discussion on the nature of canonization. Surprisingly, given his anti-Roman polemic throughout this series, he faults the position of Luther and Calvin and gives more weight to the role of the church. However, this can only work when the Church submits to the same revelation.
Towards the end of chapter two he gets into why he doesn’t believe Scripture should be considered “inerrant.” I can’t follow him at this point, though Evangelicals really haven’t reflected hard enough on his concerns. We believe the Word of God is self-attesting. If we leave the discussion of “self-attesting” in the arena of the Triune God, well and good. Because then self-attestation is truly a triune act, and if you deny it then you deny God. If we maintain, however, so Barth reasons, that self-attestation is an act of the text of Scripture, then we open ourselves to lots of devastating criticisms by Anchorite traditions.
Barth tries to play the “Calvin vs. Calvinists” card. Historically, such a claim is simply false. However, even Richard Muller admits that the epistemology of later 17th century scholastics was such that they really couldn’t avoid the later criticisms of the Enlightenment.
We should be all means reject Barth’s conclusions–at least, if we want to stay in good position in conservative, American churches. The downside, of course, is that it is particularly difficult on Barth’s gloss to say, “Thus saith the Lord.” To Barth’s credit he emphasizes the preaching of the word. However, at this point in Church Dogmatics Barth is not clear on how his view of the Bible can be authoritative for the church.
Barth also advocates a role for the laity perhaps more than other communions. He doesn’t develop the point, but his model could alleviate a lot of the problems associated with subjectivity in Scripture. In fact, one can even develop a robust personalism on this point. If what it means to be a “person” is an opening to the other, and if everyone is engaged in the reading and practice of Holy Scripture, then everyone’s so-called subjective interpretation is taken into the “other’s” interpretation.”
Subjectivity is only a problem when each man is an island unto himself. This is a problem for congregationalist models. For Reformed (and Anglican and Lutheran) this isn’t near a problem. I think Barth makes some valuable suggestions, but they won’t impress everyone. He talks about fear and bravery at the end of this volume. If we allow dogmatics to become a lay enterprise, and each one has to bring his interpretation for correction and critique, then there will be the fear of “I don’t have complete control.” This is perhaps why anchoretic communities love to rail on the “subjectivity” of sola scriptura. It is scary, but it is also how we grow.
Scholastic Tory 