CHURCH DOGMATICS 1: THE CHURCH, THEOLOGY, SCIENCE

1. THE CHURCH, THEOLOGY, SCIENCE

Dogmatics is a theological discipline. But theology is a function of the Church.
The Church confesses God as it talks about God. It does so first by its existence in the action of each individual believer. And it does so secondly by its specific action as a fellowship, in proclamation by preaching and the administration of the sacraments, in worship, in its internal and external mission including works of love amongst the sick, the weak and those in jeopardy. Fortunately the reality of the Church does not coincide with its action. But its action coincides with the fact that alike in its existence in believers and its communal existence as such it speaks about God. Its action is “theology” in both the broader and the narrower sense.

Theology is de divinitate ratio sive sermo* (Augustine, De civ. Dei, VIII, 1). Θεολόγος est ὁ τὸν θεὸν ἐκ θεοῦ ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ εἰς δόξαν αὐτοῦ λέγων* (Coccejus, Summa theol., 1699, 1, 1).

But as it confesses God the Church also confesses both the humanity and the responsibility of its action. It realises that it is exposed to fierce temptation as it speaks of God, and it realises that it must give an account to God for the way in which it speaks. The first and last and decisive answer to this twofold compulsion consists in the fact that it rests content with the grace of the One whose strength is mighty in weakness. But in so doing it recognises and takes up as an active Church the further human task of criticising and revising its speech about God. This brings us to the concept of theology in the third, strictest and proper sense of the word.

Cf. for this threefold concept of theology J. Gerhard, Loci theol., 1610, Prooem. 4: Theology is 1. fides et religio Christiana, quae omnibus fidelibus doctis aeque ac indoctis communnis est, ut sic theologi dicantur*; 2. functio ministerii Ecclesiastici*; 3. accuratior divinorum mysteriorum cognitio, qua ratione theologi dicuntur, qui possunt veritatem divinam solide stabilire, eique oppositam falsitatem potenter destruere*.

Theology as a science, in distinction from the “theology” of the simple testimony of faith and life and the “theology” of the service of God, is a measure taken by the Church in relation to the vulnerability and responsibility of its utterance. It would be meaningless without justifying grace, which here too can alone make good what man as such invariably does badly. But it can be meaningful as an act of obedience to this grace, i.e., of the obedience in which here too man may believe that he is doing well even though he does not see it.

Theology saw this quite early … et hominum officio ipso sancto Spiritu largiente in docendis etiam ipsis doctoribus non debere cessare et tamen neque qui plantat esse aliquid neque qui rigat sed Deum qui incrementum dat* (Augustine, De doct. christ., IV, 16).

The Church produces theology in this special and peculiar sense by subjecting itself to self-examination. It puts to itself the question of truth, i.e., it measures its action, its talk about God, against its being as the Church. Thus theology exists in this special and peculiar sense because before it and apart from it there is in the Church talk about God. Theology follows the talk of the Church to the extent that in its question as to the correctness of its utterance it does not measure it by an alien standard but by its own source and object. Theology guides the talk of the Church to the extent that it concretely reminds it that in all circumstances it is fallible human work which in the matter of relevance or irrelevance lies in the balance, and must be obedient to grace if it is to be well done. Theology accompanies the utterance of the Church to the extent that it is itself no more than human “talk about God,” so that with this talk it stands under the judgment that begins at the house of God and lives by the promise given to the Church.
The work in which the Church submits to this self-examination falls into three circles which intersect in such a way that the centre of each is also within the circumference of the other two, so that in view of that which alone can be the centre it is as well neither to affirm nor to construct a systematic centre, i.e., the centre of a circle embracing the other three. The question of truth, with which theology is concerned throughout, is the question as to the agreement of the Church’s distinctive talk about God with the being of the Church. The criterion of past, future and therefore present Christian utterance is thus the being of the Church, namely, Jesus Christ, God in His gracious revealing and reconciling address to man. Does Christian utterance derive from Him? Does it lead to Him? Is it conformable to Him? None of these questions can be put apart, but each is to be put independently and with all possible force. Hence theology as biblical theology is the question of the basis, as practical theology the question of the goal and as dogmatic theology the question of the content of the distinctive utterance of the Church.

What is called Church history does not correspond to any independently raised question concerning Christian talk about God, and it cannot therefore be regarded as an independent theological discipline. It is an auxiliary science indispensable to exegetical, dogmatic and practical theology.

When the Church puts to itself the question of truth in its threefold form in a way which is objective and not arbitrary, its self-examination acquires the character of a scientific undertaking which has its own place alongside other human undertakings of the same or a similar kind. It is this particular science, i.e., theological science. Naturally, however, it is only in practice and with reservations that we can claim for it either its character as a science or its distinctiveness among the sciences.
Even the asserted independence of theology in relation to other sciences cannot be proved to be necessary in principle. It is indeed unfortunate that the question of the truth of talk about God should be handled as a question apart by a special faculty, and, while we have to recognise that such a course is unavoidable in practice, we cannot find any final reasons to justify it. Only theological arrogance could argue the point on other than practical grounds. Within the sphere of the Church philosophy, history, sociology, psychology, or pedagogics, whether individually or in conjunction, might well take up the task of measuring the Church’s talk about God by its being as the Church, thus making a special theology superfluous. Theology does not in fact possess special keys to special doors. Nor does it control a basis of knowledge which might not find actualisation in other sciences. Nor does it know an object of enquiry necessarily concealed from other sciences. Only by failing to recognise the actualisation of revelation, the possibility of grace and therefore its own nature, could it possibly make any such claim. Similarly, we cannot possibly prove that there is any necessity in principle for a theology of the service of God. Might it not be that Jer. 31:34 is in process of fulfilment? Philosophy and secular science generally do not have to be secular or pagan. There might be such a thing as philosophia christiana*.

Porro si sapientia Deus est, per quem facta sunt omnia sicut divina auctoritas veritasque monstravit, verus philosophus est amator Dei* (Augustine, De civ. Dei, VIII, 1).

To contest this principle is to combine despair of the world with over-valuation of the Christian world in a way which is incompatible either with Christian hope or Christian humility. Theology as a special science, like the theology of the service of God as special Christian utterance, can be justified only as a relative and factual necessity. As such it is justified.

Absolute et simpliciter Theologia non est necessaria, ne quidem toti Ecclesiae: potest enim Deus homine immediate, h.e. sine ministerio hominum Theologorum informare et convertere—sed ex hypothesi posita scil. Dei voluntate* (Quenstedt, Theol. did. pol., 1685, I, cap. 1, sect. 2, qu. 1, ekth. 6).

The other sciences have not in fact recognised and adopted the task of theology. To be sure, attempts have always been made on all sides to criticise and correct the Church’s talk about God. But what is required is its criticism and correction in the light of the being of the Church, of Jesus Christ as its basis, goal and content. In fact, however, even though we cannot show that this is in accordance with any necessity of principle, even those historians, pedagogues, etc., and especially philosophers who kindly take this aspect into account always miss the real problem by setting it within the sphere of their own sciences, judging the utterance of the Church about God in accordance with alien principles rather than its own principle, and thus increasing rather than decreasing the mischief which makes critical science necessary for the Church. The result is even worse when this is done in the name of “theology.” In practice the achievements of the philosopher, historian, etc. can be of only indirect significance to the problem which here confronts us, i.e., by way of a specific interpretation. Directly, in all the three areas of theological enquiry philosophy, history, psychology, etc. have always succeeded in practice only in increasing the self-alienation of the Church and the distortion and confusion of its talk about God. And in the interpretation offered, as the relevant experts at once object, philosophy ceases to be philosophy, or history history. There never has actually been a philosophia christiana*, for if it was philosophia* it was not christiana*, and if it was christiana* it was not philosophia*. If, then, the concern of the Church is not to go by default, the special function of a scientific theology, corresponding to the special function of the service of God, is in fact indispensable. Its task, not in fact discharged by other sciences, is that of the criticism and correction of talk about God according to the criterion of the Church’s own principle. Theology is the science which finally sets itself this task, and this task alone, subordinating to this task all other possible tasks in the human search for truth.

Non ubique quidquid sciri ab homine potest in rebus humanis … huic scientiae tribuens, sed illud tantummodo, quo fides saluberrima, quae ad veram beatitudinem ducit, gignitur, nutritur, defenditur, roboratur* (Augustine, De trin., XIV, 1, 3). Theologia … ita est omnium arbitra et domina, ut de ipsis judicet et ipsa a nulla alia scientia judicetur; omnes enim aliae disciplinae exigendae sunt ad ejus amussim, ut quicquid habent cum Theologia non consonum reiiciatur* (F. Turrettini, Instit. Theol. elenchth., I, 1679, 1, 6, 7). Cf. Thomas Aquinas, S. theol., I, qu. 1, art. 5.

The other sciences, too, might finally set themselves this task and this task alone, subordinating all other tasks to it. All sciences might ultimately be theology. The fact that they are not is one which we need neither bewail nor justify in the present context. But it is a fact which creates a vacuum intolerable for the Church. The separate existence of theology signifies the emergency measure on which the Church has had to resolve in view of the actual refusal of the other sciences in this respect. It can have no epistemological basis. From the standpoint of the Church itself and therefore of theology, the separate existence of the latter is theoretically very questionable. Of the efforts made to assign it a place in the system of sciences, theology itself must say that the honour is both too great, and too small.
The case is much the same when we ask whether theology is really a science at all. This question is not a vital one for theology. There is no necessity of principle, nor are there any internal reasons, why it should claim to belong to this genus. On the contrary, there are good grounds why it should definitely refrain from doing so.

Among the older orthodox, so far as I am aware, Baier was the first (Comp. Theol. posit., Prol. 1, 15), and then Buddeus (Instit. dogmat., 1724, I, 1, 28), emphatically to call theology a scientia*. Perhaps in the wake of Thomas Aquinas (S. theol., I, qu. 1, art. 2 and 6) the older Leiden school (e.g., Walæus, Loci comm., 1640, p. 4, Leidener Synopsis pur. Theol., 1624, I, 9) spoke cautiously of scientia vel sapientia*, while to the best of my knowledge the overwhelming majority of the older (e.g., Wolleb, Christ. Theol. Comp., 1626, Praecogn.) and later (e.g., Mastricht, Theol. theor.-pract., 1698, I, 1, 1) Reformed, and even the Lutheran Quenstedt (Theol. did. -pol., 1685, I, cap. 1, sect. 1, th. 28), preferred the term doctrina*. J. Gerhard expressly rejected the description of theology as scientia* on the following grounds: 1. scientiae certitudo ab internis et inhaerentibus principiis, fidei vero ab externis videlicet ab autoritate revelantis pendet*; 2. subjectum Theologiae est Christus, cujus cognitio scientifico modo haberi nequit, sed ex divina revelatione eam peti oportet*; 3. cujusvis scientiae principium est intellectus, quando ex principiis apte cognitis ad scientiam conclusionem devenitur. At in theologia intellectus non est principium sed finis;* 4. scientiis ratiocinando inventis potest subesse falsum* (Loci theol., 1610, Prooem. 8). He and later Hollaz (Ex. Theol. acroam., 1707, Prol., 1, 1) chose the term sapientia*. In the 19th century A. F. C. Vilmar is alone, so far as I am aware, in rejecting the term “science” as one which “for the time being” is too heavily loaded (Dogmatik, 1874, I, p. 38. Cf. Die Theologie der Tatsachen wider die Theologie der Rhetorik, 4th ed. 1876, p. VI f.). The passion with which G. Wobbermin assures us that “theology has the greatest possible, i.e., a thoroughly existential interest in ranking as a real science, as a science in the strict, and indeed the very strictest sense of the word” (Richtlinien evang. Theologie, 1929, p. 25), is exaggerated. For the preceding ancient and mediaeval history of the question, cf. G. Söhngen, “Die kathol. Theologie als Wissenschaft und Weisheit,” (Catholica, Vierteljahrschrift für Kontroverstheologie, April, 1932).

If theology allows itself to be called, and calls itself, a “science,” in so doing it declares 1. that like all other so-called sciences it is a human concern with a definite object of knowledge, 2. that like all others it treads a definite and self-consistent path of knowledge, and 3. that like all others it must give an account of this path to itself and to all others who are capable of concern for this object and therefore of treading this path. But it would make not the slightest difference to its real business if it had to rank as something other than science. If it is ranked as a science, and lays claim to such ranking, this does not mean that it must allow itself to be disturbed or hampered in its own task by regard for what is described as science elsewhere. On the contrary, to the discharge of its own task it must absolutely subordinate and if necessary sacrifice all concern for what is called science elsewhere. The existence of other sciences, and the praiseworthy fidelity with which many of them at least pursue their own axioms and methods, can and must remind it that it must pursue its own task in due order and with the same fidelity. But it cannot allow itself to be told by them what this means concretely in its own case. As regards method, it has nothing to learn from them.
It does not have to justify itself before them, least of all by submitting to the demands of a concept of science which accidentally or not claims general validity.

To the question what is the “science” to which theology must fully adhere G. Wobbermin gives (op. cit., p. 29) the ingenuous answer: “Striving after the most exact and complete possible knowledge of the reality accessible to us.” But what good theology will include its object in the “reality accessible to us”? And will a bad theology which does this really be granted by other sciences the recognition which it seeks?
What it involves to accommodate oneself to the concept of science which is accepted and holds sway today, and probably not only today, is made strikingly clear in the essay of Heinrich Scholz “Wie ist eine evangelische Theologie als Wissenschaft möglich?” (Z.d.Z., 1931, pp. 8–53). In an ascending scale, the demands made upon an undertaking which aspires to rank as “science,” and therefore upon theology, are listed by Scholz as follows (op. cit., pp. 18–24, 24–48): 1. freedom from contradiction in all the propositions to be constructed in the so-called science (“the proposition postulate”); 2. unity in the sphere of its object (“the coherence postulate”); 3. the possibility that all the propositions presented might be tested by any “sufficiently attentive readers or hearers” (“the verifiability postulate”); 4. respect for that which is physically and biologically impossible (“the congruity postulate”); 5. freedom from all prejudgments (“the independence postulate”); and 6. the possibility of all propositions being broken up into axioms and theorems and demonstrated on this basis (this being the solemn “supreme demand which is made of a science”).* Scholz is undoubtedly right when in answer to the possible objection of theologians that this concept of science is an arbitrary modern invention he argues that it, too, “has a tradition, a great, classical tradition, and that it is a splendid and worthwhile thing to work for the high estimation of this tradition” (op. cit., p. 51). In addition to a theoretical basis in the history of philosophy since Plato and Aristotle, it has on its side the historical development of at least the last two or three hundred years, and its fairly consistent practical application in Berlin, New York and Tokyo. Nor is it meant as a rigid but rather as a flexible principle which readily admits of variations in practical execution. There is thus no point in drawing attention to its internal difficulties or the ways in which it is perhaps always broken when applied, even in the natural sciences. It is still the proper concept of science for our own time. And theology can only say point-blank that this concept is unacceptable to it. Even the minimum postulate of freedom from contradiction is acceptable to theology only when it is given a particular interpretation which the scientific theorist can hardly tolerate, namely, that theology does not affirm in principle that the “contradictions” which it makes cannot be resolved. But the statements in which it maintains their resolution will be statements concerning the free activity of God and not therefore statements which “dismiss contradictions from the world” (op. cit., p. 44). The remaining sections of the law as stated by Scholz can only remind the theologian that he ought to know what he is about when he transgresses them, but also that as a theologian he cannot help transgressing them. Not an iota can be yielded here without betraying theology, for any concession at this point involves surrendering the theme of theology. On the other hand, in answer to the question whether relevance or objectivity should not be regarded as one of the main postulates of the concept of science, Scholz replies (op. cit., p. 52) that he has not so far met any criterion “with the help of which it can be decided even in a single seriously controverted issue whether a given line of thought is objective or not.” The theologian will perhaps appreciate more than others the importance of this statement. But he will say that objectivity in this aggravatingly indefinite sense is the most general expression of the one distinctive rule to which theology may and must keep. Hence in its dealings with this concept of science it can only make the dry declaration that the concept cannot be that of theology.
An apparently more harmless because more general definition of the concept of science is given by Arthur Titius in his Berlin University address on July 26 1932: “Ist systematische Theologie als Wissenschaft möglich?” According to Titius, science is “present or in process of realisation wherever common work exists or is possible in the realm of knowledge. This is only the case where the object behind the knowledge is made accessible to all with the necessary clarity and can be expounded according to the methods which are common to all” (p. 5 f.). The possibility of a fulfilment of this condition by systematic theology Titius sees first (p. 11 f.) in the fact that in the newly exploited notion of the unity of the world it has a point of contact accessible to all who are capable of thinking at all. He then finds it (p. 14 f.) in the possibility of the myth of the direct working of God as an inner causality of a personal and miraculous nature, in the Christian form of which the theologian sees “profound truth,” i.e., the truth which even those who reject this myth must recognise in its “significance” etc. He sees it finally (p. 27 f.) in the psychological, sociological and moral significance of the Christian religion as this may be plainly grasped by any man. “Hence theology may be integrated with scholarship” if only there is accorded to it as to all historical and scientific learning the possibility of making appropriate use of the more basic contemplation which is “a kind of intuition in virtue of which aesthetic elements enter into the process of cognition and help to determine it” (p. 30). In this way theology may indeed be integrated into knowledge. But in respect of the very three elements which are supposed to vindicate it as a science, namely, the idea of unity, the possibility of myth, and the humanistic relevance of Christianity, it can only be described as completely empty from the theological standpoint, so that theology integrated along these lines must be flatly disowned as theology. How can it be otherwise if the intention is to make the theme of theology accessible to all men with the requisite clarity and to depict it according to methods which are valid for all? Whatever may be the concept of science, this object of knowledge cannot be handled in this way.

If theology allows itself to be called, or calls itself, a science, it cannot in so doing accept the obligation of submission to standards valid for other sciences.
Similarly, it cannot justify itself before other sciences on the score of propounding for discussion by them a concept of science which does not exclude but includes a good theology. To set itself in a systematic relationship to other sciences, theology would have to regard its own separate existence as necessary in principle. But this is the very thing which it cannot do. It cannot think of itself as a link in an ordered cosmos, but only as a stop-gap in a disordered cosmos. But how can there possibly be a concept of knowledge common to this stop-gap and the disordered cosmos? Any attempt of this kind must founder at once upon the conflict of will whether or not to take up the theme of theology. And from the theological standpoint this conflict is no mere problem to be solved by a synthetic construction.

Since the days of Schleiermacher, many encyclopaedic attempts have been made to include theology in the sciences. But the common objection may be made against all of them that they overlook the abnormality of the special existence of theology and therefore essay that which is radically impossible. The actual result of all such attempts has always been the disturbing or destructive surrender of theology to a general concept of science and the mild unconcern with which non-theological science, perhaps with a better sense of realities than theologians with their desire for synthesis, can usually reply to this mode of justifying theology.

Thus even the task of drafting a better concept of science in basic self-justification can only be rejected on the part of theology.
The only way which theology has of proving its scientific character is to devote itself to the task of knowledge as determined by its actual theme and thus to show what it means by true science. No science has any manorial rights to the title, nor does any theory of science have absolute power either to grant or withhold the title. Even conventions brought into currency by a general concept of science have no claim to final respect. Whether or not a person or thing is what it claims to be is always decided by the event which either substantiates or refutes the claim and not by even the most weighty stipulations concerning the justification or non-justification of the claim. We must leave it to this event. Theology has no reason not to call itself a science. It may well prove to be more of a science than many or even all the sciences grouped under the above convention.
There are three practical reasons why we should quietly insist on describing theology as a science.
1. In so doing, theology brings itself into line. As a human concern for truth, it recognises its solidarity with other such concerns now grouped under the name of science. It protests against the idea of an ontological exaltation above them such as might easily be suggested by its emphatic and distinctive designation by older writers as doctrina* or even sapientia*. It remembers that it is only a science and therefore that it is secular even as it works in its own relatively special way and in the highest spheres.
2. In not just resigning the title to others, with all due respect to the classical tradition it makes a necessary protest against a general concept of science which is admittedly pagan. It cannot do any harm even to the most stalwart representatives of this concept, or indeed to the whole university, to be reminded by the presence of the theologian among them that the quasi-religious certainty of their interpretation of the term is not in fact undisputed, that the tradition which commences with the name of Aristotle is only one among others, and that the Christian Church certainly does not number Aristotle among its ancestors.
3. Finally, in grouping itself among the sciences for all the radical and indeed indissoluble difference in the understanding of the term, theology shows that it does not take the heathenism of their understanding seriously enough to separate itself under another name, but that it reckons them as part of the Church in spite of their refusal of the theological task and their adoption of a concept of science which is so intolerable to theology. It believes in the forgiveness of sins, and not in the final reality of a heathen pantheon. If there can be no question of establishing this belief, there can be even less of denying it. But such a denial might well underlie too clear-cut a distinction between theology and the sciences.
These are the external and less basic reasons which we have for not making this distinction.




Karl Barth, Geoffrey William Bromiley, and Thomas F. Torrance, Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of the Word of God, Part 1, vol. 1 (London; New York: T&T Clark, 2004), 3–17.