The Resurrection of the Dead

THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD

by

KARL BARTH

Translated by

H. J. STENNING

With a new Introduction by

R. Dale Dawson

Wipf and Stock Publishers

199 West 8th Avenue, Suite 3

Eugene, Oregon 97401

The Resurrection of the Dead

By Barth, Karl

Copyright©1933 Theologischer Verlag Zurich

ISBN: 1-59244-383-4

EISBN: 978-1-4982-7081-6

Publication date 10/7/2003

Previously published by Fleming H. Revell, 1933

INTRODUCTION

If the publication of Karl Barth’s second edition of the commentary on Romans¹ had something like the effect of someone stumbling in the dark of the church’s tower, grabbing hold of the bell-rope and unwittingly stirring the local ecclesial community,² the effect of his commentary on 1 Corinthians 15 was rather like the discovery of a lost classic that was quietly dusted off and reinserted inconspicuously into the church archives. The 1924 publication of Die Auferstehung Der Toten, quite unlike that of the Römerbrief of 1921, did not explode like a bombshell on the playground of the theologians³ but rather was buried like a landmine, where it has remained relatively undisturbed for more than eighty years. The fact that this work has garnered little attention is by no means an accurate indicator of its importance, however. Quite to the contrary, The Resurrection of the Dead is a work of exceptional insight and exegetical power, not only as a penetrating look into Pauline eschatology, not even as a fresh and illuminating interpretation of Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians (though it surely is this too), but also as a compelling manner of coming to grips with the germ of Paul’s theology as a whole.

Historical and Genetic Context

The occasion for Barth’s extended engagement with 1 Corinthians was an exegetical lecture series in Göttingen. While in his post as Professor of Reformed Dogmatics, it had been Barth’s custom to offer courses in Reformation theology and New Testament exposition, usually featuring an epistle. The course on 1 Corinthians was offered in the summer of 1923. Barth’s preparation for the concurrent course on the Reformed confessions had so preoccupied him that little time was left for the exposition of 1 Corinthians, forcing him to write the greater part of his lecture notes during the summer session. Yet, unlike the rest of his Göttingen lecture series, Barth was pleased enough with the material to edit it for publishing in 1924⁴—a telling decision as regards Barth’s own evaluation of the significance of the work.

In addition to the political landscape of Germany, the vocational and theological contours of Barth’s own life had changed dramatically in the few years that had passed since the publication of his revised Romans. The severe disillusionment of the German people that had followed the First World War (further intensified by near runaway inflation) was being rapidly supplanted by a new and dangerous nationalism. Though a matter of great concern for Barth, his sense of being a foreigner on German soil together with the immense weight of his teaching responsibilities gave him sufficient cause to refrain for the time being from direct political involvement. The shift from the pulpit to the lectern meant leaving behind the routines of parish life and the immediacy of the social concerns of his parishioners and immersing himself in the rigors of academic life including a feverish pace of study to compensate for his perceived deficiencies.⁵ Plunging into the writings of Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli, he found himself increaseingly drawn to the riches of Reformed theology, not least of which was its emphasis upon the freedom of God and the principle of Scripture.⁶ And, while the founding of the journal Zwischen den Zeiten (Between the Times) in 1922 had begun to give some recognizable form to the dialectical theology movement, significant differences among its young leaders were becoming increasingly evident, such that by 1924 a clear divergence between Barth and his colleagues Emil Brunner, Paul Tillich, Friedrich Gogarten, and to a lesser extent Rudolph Bultmann, was apparent.⁷ The circumstances (Barth’s professorship and literary outlets) that held out the expectation for further clarification and positive formulation of his theology, proved also to provide the impetus for the emergence of his distinctiveness from these others who shared in the movement. At the time of the publication of The Resurrection of the Dead Barth was already beginning to experience the solitude consequent upon an unflinching pursuit of his own course.

Interpretation

Various proposals have been advanced to account for the development of Barth’s thought at this stage. The highly influential scheme put forward by Hans Urs von Balthasar⁸ placed this work in an early dialectical phase, at least three years prior to Barth’s supposed turn to analogy signaled in the book on Anselm (Fides Quaerens Intellectum). The Resurrection of the Dead is understood in this theory to be an expression of the principle of finitum non capax infiniti (the finite cannot comprehend the infinite). T. F. Torrance offers a slightly revised version of this view. The Resurrection of the Dead, together with the revised Romans, emphasizes this dialectical tension in terms of an eschatological distinction of time and eternity.⁹ We are prompted to observe a shift from a timeless eschatology (an understanding of eternity strongly influenced by a notion of the absence of the features of time) to a realistic eschatology (an understanding of eternity shaped largely by the notion of eternity as primordial and originative reality). Bruce McCormack has done much to correct the deeply entrenched though errant notion that Barth’s thinking shifted from a dialectical to an analogical expression in or around the release of the Anselm book, arguing instead for a view that sees dialectics as an ongoing feature of Barth’s theological expression.¹⁰ On McCormack’s view clear evidence of a time-eternity dialectic not yet grounded in an anhypostatic-enhypostatic christological formulation is to be found in The Resurrection of the Dead. Somewhat distinct from Torrance, though with a common emphasis upon eschatology, McCormack finds a noticeable shift from the process eschatology of Romans I (the Kingdom of God emerging progressively in the course of human history) to a consistent eschatology¹¹ (God’s eternity remaining the absolute future¹² of all human time). Despite these notable contributions, the account of the importance of the resurrection for Barth’s eschatology at this stage, due in part to the lack of scholarly attention given to this book, remains surprisingly thin. Barth’s desire is to address the question of how it stands with us now that our eschatological hope has been revealed in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but not by means of a dialectic borrowed from metaphysics. Barth sees the matter rather as rooted in the crucifixion-resurrection dialectic, the singular divine-historical act, in which the crucifixion is not undone but rather confirmed and superseded (though in a manner inconceivable this side of death) by the resurrection.

It is perhaps best then to understand Barth’s characteristic thought here as neither purely dialectical nor a function of a shifting eschatology, but as a consistent unfolding of the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead as a single material terminus a quo and terminus ad quem for all his theological thought. Thus, while we find in The Resurrection of the Dead a form of dialectical argumentation, it is better described as an explication of the crisis of all human being, knowing, and action in light of the revelation of God in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. What we find is not strictly dialectics at all, for it is not a dialectical method of argumentation originating in disparate and competing sources of truth and moving toward yet without ever arriving at a singular comprehensive resolution. What we have here is rather the discovery of a highly particular dialectical method of witness, which originates in and corresponds to the revelation-event of a singular cohesive and coherent object—the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.

For Barth the resurrection of Jesus Christ bears simultaneously a supremely critical and a supremely positive weight. In its light it can be seen that all things this side of the resurrection are of death—characterized by death and dying. It can also be seen that all things dead and dying are what they are not, and cannot possibly be, that is, truly alive. For Barth, what accosts us in the resurrection revelation is nothing less than the negation of what we are (of sin and death) and the affirmation of what we are not (of righteousness and life).¹³ This inescapably dialectical structure of witness does not derive generally from the observable realities and processes of the created order. It stems rather from the resurrection revelation, which follows upon the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ. Both critical and constructive forms of knowledge are grounded in this singular and simple source.

In a similar fashion, the resurrection proves to be the key to Barth’s handling of eschatological themes. The Resurrection of the Dead is not to be perceived as a resurrection treatise infused with a preconceived or shifting eschatology, but rather as Barth’s discovery of Paul’s theological method—a form of real eschatological pro- and retro-spection, which has the resurrection of Jesus Christ as its focal centre.¹⁴ Paul’s eschatology is informed by his resurrection theology, and not vice versa. The resurrection is both the real object and the authenticating source of the apostolic witness.

To be sure, Barth does not deny the admission of thought about the last days, that is, the times at the so-called end of history, whether they be in the near or distant future, cataclysmic or benign. Yet, in Barth’s view, 1 Corinthians 15 does not speak of last things in this sense, and neither, for that matter, does the New Testament generally. The concern of the New Testament is not such final possibilities within the same nexus of cause and effect as all other happenings. Such last things can only be last things in a world where the fundamental structures remain the same. Last things in a biblical sense have to do with the closing of the continuum in which all creaturely things participate:

He only speaks of last things who would speak of the end of all things, of their end understood plainly and fundamentally, of a reality so radically superior to all things, that the existence of all things would be utterly and entirely based upon it alone, and thus, in speaking of their end, he would in truth be speaking of nothing else than their beginning.¹⁵

Paul, in Barth’s view, is referring to the finiteness of history as a result of the appearance in time of "that upon which all time and all happenning is based."¹⁶ Thus, Barth takes the end of history to be synonymous with the pre-history, that is, with "the origin of time."¹⁷ Biblical eschatology then is not about the extension of the world of time into its beyond, but rather about the fundamental finiteness of the world of time, as it is bounded by the eternity of God.

Yet Paul’s gospel is more than merely the proclamation of the death and end of human history. The word of the resurrection is also the first word. Barth is concerned that we do not go only half-way and lose the positive side of what is revealed in the resurrection. It is not merely that God’s eternity sets a limit upon the endlessness of the world-history, but rather that this last word is also to be understood at the same time as the first word of a new history. The history of the end is also the history of the beginning. Hence God’s eternity is to be understood as both the last word that closes history and the first word that establishes history anew. Thus, God’s eternity delimits time but in so doing heals time, giving new meaning and wholeness to time.

In Barth’s view Paul seeks to bring all things into the light of this single recollection: that all things come to death. And having argued that all things assuredly come to death, Paul then speaks of the resurrection of the dead. To speak of death on its own, to speak of the limiting of time and its universe of possibilities on its own, that is, from within the world-time order, is nothing more than a veiled extension of the conditions and potentialities of the same continuum. It is not an end at all, but merely (and as a matter of deep despair) a cosmic narcissism, quite unaware of its origin and end. Barth sees Paul’s emphasis upon the resurrection of Jesus Christ as that which reveals the real limits of world-history and thus grants meaningfulness to our knowledge of these limits. Paul refers to the resurrection only as that which is uttered at the end of all that can be said humanly:

With the word resurrection, however, the apostolic preaching puts in this empty place against all that exists for us, all that is known to us, all that can be possessed by us, all things of all time—what? not the non-being, the unknown, the not-to-be-possessed, nor yet a second being, a further thing to become known, a higher future possession, but the source and the truth of all that exists, that is known, that can belong to us, the reality of all res, of all things, the eternity of time, the resurrection of the dead.¹⁸

What Barth takes from Paul is that the resurrection is spoken of exactly in this place, exactly in the place where nothing can be said, where it seems that all we have is an inconceivable nothingness. Barth underscores the failure of all merely human reason to deal adequately with the end just at this point. Instead of recognizing the end as real end indeed, as the last word beyond which nothing can be spoken, another merely human word is posited, a new being (or non-being) derived unwittingly from the pre-End reality is put in that place. But it is nothing more than an image fashioned of this-worldly matter (wood and stones) by human hands. In stark contrast, Paul, precisely in this place, speaks of the resurrection. It is in the place where death would seem to have the last word that Paul, in speaking of the resurrection, is able to speak of a meaningful beyond and at the same time maintain the real end character of the last human word.

It is this continual return to the great recollection of death and the meaning and significance placed upon that final word in the word of the resurrection, which allows Paul to proclaim a real end, which brings all penultimate things into crisis, but which itself owes its force and power to the humanly unspeakable word spoken from beyond. The ideas developed in 1 Corinthians 15 then are better described as "the methodology of the apostle’s preaching, rather than eschatology, because it is really concerned not with this and that special thing, but with the meaning and nerve of its whole, with the whence? and the whither? of the human way as such and in itself."¹⁹ With this procedure, Barth claims, Paul is attempting to utter the impossible utterance, hoping despite his certain failure to draw attention to that which only can be heard from the other side of the limitations of world-history. Barth marvels at the daring exhibited by the apostle Paul to make this impossible attempt in such detail, and offering so many weak points.²⁰ This chapter (15) stands alone in all of Pauline literature as the connected exposition of this truth.²¹

The Eschatological Unity of the Epistle

Barth devotes the first half of his commentary on 1 Corinthians 15 to an explication of the hidden theme which constitutes unity of the epistle. While acknowledging that the resurrection of the dead is not mentioned explicitly until the fifteenth chapter, he argues convincingly that this theme is the controlling nerve and centre of the whole.²²

Barth believes Paul confronts in the Corinthians a form of Christian proto-Gnosticism, which mortally threatens the testimony of Christ in Corinth. In the first major section of the epistle (chapters 1–4), Barth characterizes Paul’s intention as one designed to provoke the Corinthians to a recognition that the human content of the Corinthian Christianity has replaced the Divine content. The charisms (which they possess in abundance) are no end in themselves, but are gifts relative to the Giver.²³ Paul preaches the cross of Christ over against the human religiosity of the Corinthians, calling all things into question with remorseless negativeness.²⁴ Barth knows that Paul is not yet speaking of the resurrection—though that is the underlying tendency and import of all of this—but of the cross, which becomes the criterion of knowledge of God.²⁵

The next section (chapters 5–6) Barth depicts as offering an ethical criticism of the Corinthian church. Against the unbridled human vitality of the man who has married his mother-in-law, and of Christian believers who elect to have their cases decided by pagan judges, Paul preaches they have a Master. Men and women are indeed body, but the purpose of their corporeality is not to celebrate itself as an end in itself, but to await and testify to the new corporeality of the resurrection.²⁶ Correlatively, the seventh chapter deals with precisely the opposite problem, that of the radical-ethical group²⁷ that advocated sexual abstinence in marriage and the dissolution of marriages where one partner was not Christian. Barth argues that though Paul is in practical agreement with these radical extremists, he cannot fully espouse their position:

Above his own well-founded opinion on this matter, and against the enthusiasm of those who made the matter into a principle, Paul also employs here the words from God. … It is God who stands in the way of the licentious, but it is also God who stands in the way of the radical moralists.²⁸

Paul’s discourse regarding the extent of the Christian’s freedom to eat meat which has been sacrificed to idols (chapters 8–10) is also characterized as a concrete situation to which Paul brings to bear the critical force of the higher viewpoint of God. Against excessive religious hubris, even against the best-intentioned individual ethicism, Paul places the glory of God as the standard of judgment. Barth discovers the same principle in the eleventh through fourteenth chapters of the epistle. The attention to order and subordination as concerns the relationship between men and women in the church, as well as the shadow which Christ casts over the whole of life on this side of the grave²⁹ in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, serve as signposts to the resurrection—the real matter of concern.

With the emphasis of chapter 13 on the endurance of love Barth claims we are really already thinking about eschatology, though examined here from the human perspective. He regards this as the secret theme of the Epistle which reaches its highest expression in chapter 15.³⁰ It is this love, the love that allows its object to be ever and only just what it is, the love that will not impose human limitations upon its divine object, the love of the reality which exists beyond all the crises, that endures.³¹