And then besides, Christianity itself rejects middlemen. It recognizes no world beside itself, for it is absolute in its claims.’ And so theologians must undergo the painful experience of finding that the service they intend to offer is accepted with the most polite thanks, ‘but with no overlooking of the basic defect that those who offer the service come themselves from the same corner of merely relative evaluation of Christianity in which men in general commonly stand and out of which they would gladly be rescued. And when it is realized that this service is done for us by someone who merely shares with us our common need, it understandably elicits a very faint acknowledgement.…’ The theologians might be called ‘the Figaros of Christianity. In any case, these modern representatives of theology are the most available and usable, but also the most unreliable of its factotums. And as such, all honourable Pietists consider them, in the bottom of their hearts’ (pp. 273–4).
Their position is equally doubtful when considered from the standpoint of culture. ‘The Philistines of culture are men who are enthusiastic advocates of culture but have no aptitude for it; men who would like to be cultured but who apply themselves only half-heartedly and “part-time”, only for the sake of appearing as its representatives. Therefore theologians are the born Philistines of culture in all ages—not just at the present time. They always drag along with them the Christianity into which they were born or which was taught them and it weighs down all their cultural aspirations. Their culture therefore is culture with a bad conscience’ (pp. 270–1). We need only read over the descriptions of the Pharisees in Zündel’s book on Jesus to be convinced of the parallel here.
How radically Overbeck questions the possibility of the theology dominant today (and for him that meant questioning its Christian-ness) and with what earnestness he renounced it, will have become plain from the preceding excerpts. (I have for my part ‘practised restraint’ here.) Theology still owes the answer to the inquiry made to it in 1873.
In conclusion we naturally ask whether Overbeck believed a different, a better theology to be possible. His editor’s answer will be roundly ‘No’; and he can support his verdict by the fact that Overbeck himself, at least so far as it concerned him personally, repudiated this possibility. ‘I have no intention of reforming theology. I admit its nullity in and of itself and I am not merely attacking its temporary decay and its present basis’ (p. 291). An end to Christianity! (Finis christianismi!) rings his prophetic imprecation—still more an end to theology!
But the man who spoke so profoundly of death must somehow have combined with this finis a fruitful, living concept originating in the beginning. On the other side from the direct final question must be an answer; on the other side from the nothingness a new beginning; beyond the desert into which we are led must be a promised land. At least the fact about which his watching contemporaries talked so much and for which (at least in this book) neither Overbeck nor his editor is able to give a credible explanation—the banal fact that Overbeck himself was never anything but a theologian, cannot be without significance, in spite of his resolute repudiation. To call Overbeck, in his own despite, ‘a theologian learned in the ways of the kingdom of heaven and in the ways of earth’, as one of his secular colleagues said beside his grave, ought to be from the historico-psychologial viewpoint at least a portent; and from the point of view of reality it is perhaps not such a bad portent. The last can still sometimes be first. A theologian who is determined not to be a theologian might perhaps—if the impossible is to become possible—be a very good theologian.
Overbeck himself wrote, a few lines after his repudiation: ‘Theology, like everything else which exists, will be or has been good for something. Why not, for example, for establishing the limits of humanity, for our final, radical rescue from all demonic superstition and from all transcendental other-worldliness?’ (p. 292.) Now this comment, when examined word by word, makes an important assertion concerning matters which are fundamental and are not yet decided. (In considering it, we might even be permitted to overlook the has been.)
There are a few more statements which escaped the author almost against his will and which deal with at least the possibility of a theology of greater insight and more caution. They should not be omitted in this connexion. ‘Religious problems must eventually be based in a wholly new area [in contrast to the antagonism between Catholicism and Protestantism] at the expense of what has until now been called religion’ (p. 270). ‘Theology cannot be re-established except with audacity’ (p. 16). ‘The first, fresh Christianity is a Christianity without the experience of growing old and it cannot be saved by any theology which does not renounce all its pretensions, historical, scientific, and theological’ (p. 8). ‘Only a heroic Christianity which takes its position without regard to any era and establishes itself on itself alone can escape the fate of Jesuitizing’ (p. 126). ‘He who is to represent Christianity is not thereby called to represent “the truth”, although he may be convinced and show himself convinced that both are identical’ (p. 268). No presentation which attempts to ‘establish Christianity historically will ever be possible; only that composed from the heart of the matter itself, the non-historical Christianity’ (pp. 9–10).
Would it not be worth the effort to consider the spiteful assertion that ‘theologians are the fools of human society’ more seriously than Ritschl did? ‘Perhaps it might be concluded that the foolishness asserted is not such an unmitigated misfortune, and that just because of it theologians may be a necessary ballast and consequently be prized as necessary in human society’ (p. 173). ‘The eternal permanence of Christianity can be claimed only from the eternal viewpoint (sub specie aeterni), that is, from a standpoint which knows nothing of time and of the contrast of youth and age existing only in time’ (p. 71). ‘Religion does not so much bring us information about God (where do we have such information?) as assure us that God knows us. Furthermore, knowledge about God in itself could not help us where we feel in need of help; but everything which concerns us depends on his knowledge of us’ (p. 266).
The man who could express such thoughts, even if he himself developed them no further, as a theologian certainly wanted more than ‘to provide culture with information about theology’ as the editor asserts (p. x).
But we must urgently warn all those who desire positive results and directions that they should not rush too quickly towards the standpoint which Overbeck indicated, but did not himself employ. Still less should they suppose that the promised land will be reached tomorrow—perhaps even today! Our next task is to begin the desert wandering. Otherwise a new misfortune and a new disappointment could come. The matters dealt with in this audacious undertaking are too large for the theologian to be able to pass all the way through the narrow door of Overbeck’s negation—even if we think we know something of Blumhardt’s Yes, which is the other side of Overbeck’s No.
There were good reasons for Overbeck himself to refrain from the attempt to pass all the way through—and we are grateful to him for so refraining. A theology which would dare that passage—dare to become eschatology—would not only be a new theology but also a new Christianity; it would be a new being, itself already a piece of the ‘last things’, towering above the Reformation and all ‘religious’ movements. Whoever would dare to build on that tower would truly do well to sit down first and count the cost.
The next work for all of us, and the best we can do the more we feel ourselves forced under the pressure of present events to make decisions, to break through our limits, is to remain standing before that narrow door in fear and reverence, and without clamouring for positive proposals; to understand what is at stake and to realize that only the impossible can save us from the impossible.
We have the question of the practical significance of the ‘last things’, the question of the insights and possibilities which none can assume for himself unless they were given him from above. We have the question of pre-suppositions. To have thrown these questions at us, and, as was proper, only to have hinted at the answers—that is the service of Overbeck, for which presumably there is great appreciation in heaven.
Let
