Overbeck’s fundamental doctrine of super-history and death with the deep sense of the dialectic of creation and redemption which is there expressed (e.g. pp. 29–31, 248 f.), as a transcendence of all ‘ideology’; and I would count the writer, with Socrates and Plato, among those ‘heathen proclaimers of the resurrection’ of whom it is said, ‘I have not found such faith, no not in Israel.’
From the unbelievably narrow and solid basis of this critical foundation are to be understood the three polemic discussions which in their manifold convolutions constitute the major content of the book. The first deals with the existence of Christianity in history; the second with the nature of modern Christianity; the third with the Christian-ness of all theology, especially of the theology of the present day. Overbeck’s unanswered question unfolds into several questions.
II
On the position of Christianity in history and its various aspects much has been said in the last decades. If I am not mistaken, Troeltsch’s thesis of the temporary social significance of the church and his dismal picture of the coming ice ages in which this social significance would be ended, constituted the last important stage which this discussion reached before the war. I listened to him, in Aarau in 1910, with the dark foreboding that it had become impossible to advance any farther in the dead-end street where we were strolling in relative comfort. But wholly different from the questions which evoked such answers is the question of whether there can possibly be any talk at all of a position of the church in history or of its historical aspects.
Does Christianity have the possibility of an historical development? That is, can it undergo the continuance, the becoming and perishing, the youth and old age, the degeneration and progress which are temporal characteristics? Does it in itself give evidence of a will to become an historical entity? Is it possible for a historian as such to do justice to Christianity? Or, to put the question from the world’s standpoint, can Christianity claim real significance as an historical entity? Is it possible for a historian to treat Christianity apart from culture?
Overbeck denies such a possibility categorically. Inflexibly he confronts us with the choice: If Christianity, then not history; if history, then not Christianity. ‘Historic Christianity—that is Christianity subjected to time—is an absurdity’ (p. 242). History is precisely the basis on which Christianity can not be established; for ‘neither Christ himself nor the faith which he found among his disciples has ever had any historical existence at all under the name of Christianity’ (pp. 9–10). ‘The first Christians are no proper subject for human historical writing’ (p. xxi). ‘History is an abyss into which Christianity has been thrown wholly against its will’ (p. 7). ‘From the a-priori of our concept of time, it follows that Christianity as a phenomenon of history has become indefensible’ (p. 244).
‘The best school for learning to doubt the existence of God as ruler of the world is church history, if it be granted that that is the history of the religion, Christianity, which was established by God in the world and if it be assumed that God has guided its history. Obviously he has done nothing of the kind. There is nothing miraculous in church history. To judge from it, Christianity seems as completely abandoned to the world as anything else which exists there’ (pp. 265–66). ‘Church history teaches that Christianity has been incapable of extricating itself from the effect of a single human weakness—just as has the supposed divine guidance of its destiny. Not one horror of history, not one horror among all the horrible experiences which history includes, is lacking in the experiences of church history’ (p. 19). ‘So far as Christianity in the area of its historical life has not been spared the corruptions and confusions to which other things are subject, church history possesses no advantage—least of all a special protecting power governing the church. On the evidence of the history of the church, the existence of God can be maintained only on the assumption that he withdrew his hand from Christianity in its historical existence. Such an assumption need not damage at all the honour due to God or to what men call God’ (p. 266).
‘To include Christianity under the concept of the historical, means to admit that it is of this world, and like all life has lived in the world in order to die’ (p. 7). ‘From purely historical considerations, the only possible conclusion is that Christianity is worn out and has grown senile’ (p. 71). ‘The idea of judging Christianity simply as history only heralds the dawn of the age when Christianity will come to an end and vanish’ (p. 9).
The only possible abode of Christianity lies, so far as the past is concerned, not in history, but in the history before history, the super-history (Urgeschichte). And only non-historical concepts, standards, and possibilities of observation could put us in the position to understand, to talk about—in fact, to represent in any way—this Christianity which is not Christianity in any historical sense. ‘Christianity means nothing else than Christ and the faith of his followers in him; it is something above time; in the life-time of Jesus, it had as yet no existence at all’ (p. 28). ‘Pursuit of the problems of super-history is permitted only to investigators who can see in that light—therefore to investigators with cats’ eyes who can manage in the dark’ (p. 20).
The beloved historical division between events and that which calls them into existence is impossible in relation to Christianity. For example, to take a New Testament book seriously means to know nothing of its author except for the book itself, and nothing of the ‘history of the times’. Direct conversation with the author makes the book as such superfluous and deprives it of its historical existence. Author and book coalesce into one (pp. 21–3). For another example, original Christianity in relation to the world had Socialism within itself; while our present-day combination of Christianity and Socialism, whether subsequent or anticipatory, only betrays our lack of the inclusive and conclusive possibilities of the super-historical (pp. 26–8). Hastily formulated historical hypotheses on the relation of beginnings to their continuations become impossible. ‘Can one human figure as passive as Jesus be thought of historically as the founder of anything in the world? Is not Christianity an historical edifice to the dimensions of which the figure of Jesus is wholly irrelevant?’ (p. 39). ‘The faith of Paul, springing to life after the death of Jesus, is no less of a miracle than the faith of Jesus in himself’ (p. 62).
The usual historical-psychological value judgements become impossible. For example, the dissimilarities between Jesus and Francis of Assisi are much more significant than the renowned likenesses (conformitates). On the one hand, ‘Francis exemplifies in himself the peace which Christianity proclaims even more completely than Jesus himself. Jesus required faith in himself, a demand which in itself excludes all peacefulness and presupposes the possession and use of power. Francis merely displays faith and shows a trait of amiability which Christ wholly lacks.’ On the other side, ‘to follow Christ, as St Francis understood it, was to follow him in the way which most exalts Christianity to the heights and glorifies it, and not to follow him where Christ himself stands, outside the ideal of Christianity’ (p. 39). Our Neo-Franciscan friends should ponder on that a little.
Most impossible of all becomes the all-too-hasty adaptation and application of supposedly historical concepts in general to supra-historical phenomena. Who, for instance, could dare to claim to understand Jesus unless he finds in himself the place where he feels himself to be simply one with God? And who could dare assert that oneness of himself? Who can fail to see that Jesus was ruled by the conviction that what is impossible in the actual world could be basic reality in another world? It is precisely in the demands which are based on this conviction that Jesus seems least of all to be a vague dreamer without experience of the world. But in this conviction, which alone would make him comprehensible, who dares to follow him with real earnestness and consistency (pp. 47–9)?
‘The contradiction between the original Christian eschatology and the contemporary hope for the future is fundamental’ (p. 66). ‘It is of no use to make profession of Christianity and to march in the opposite direction’ (p. 67). ‘The demand of Matt. 18:3 by itself either removes the possibility of Christianity in the world or takes
