I’m also trying to catch up on my Barth reading. With tones of a mother-in-law, some of you have noted I’m behind.
Foregoing 1.1 §12.1-2 (Holy Spirit), which I think is Barth at worst, forcing theological dogma upon scriptural texts (the HS is the love exchanged between the Father and the Son) at the expense of the clear intention of the authors.
Instead I decided to press ahead into 1.2 §13.1-2.
Happily, Barth and Aslan intersect in a revealing and possibly fruitful way.
Like other popular ‘Real Jesus’ fare and the more scholarly historical-critiques works they simplify and rehash for a buck, Aslan’s attempts to get at the Jesus behind the canon begin with what becomes a determinative premise: the Resurrection as an historical impossibility.
If only Aslan brought the same degree of critical rigor to examining his own presuppositions as he does to the received canon and the Jesus within it.
Aslan et al take it as self-evident that Jesus was an impressive, inspiring existential teacher of compassion (Bultmann), an apocalyptic sage (Borg) or a violent revolutionary (Aslan) whose death on the cross was either the result of a tragic misunderstanding or signaled the failure of Jesus’ intentions.
Bound by their own Enlightenment presuppositions, such critics then uncritically deduce that, with their leader fallen, the first followers of Jesus either had an inner, spiritual experience of Jesus a la Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (if we remember him it’s like he’s still with us) or the disciples simply invented out of hand the resurrection story and started to worship Jesus as the divine Messiah.
Actually, not at all.
And if such scholars weren’t so wedded to their modernistic world view, they would know better.
But scholars like Borg and Aslan never mention how the existential ‘experience’ they attribute to the post-cross disciples is an incredibly modern projection on to a culture, period and religion that new no such rubric.
Jews- and Gentiles- didn’t experience reality that way nor did they narrate their reality that way.
What’s more, and more important, is the FACT that 1st century Jews did not expect a resurrection- anyone’s resurrection- until the general resurrection at the End.
Not only did they not have a belief structure in place to posit something like one man’s (a failed Messiah no less) resurrection from the dead, that they would in their lifetimes start to worship this Jesus as God (with sophisticated, high theology) violates the most basic foundation of their faith:
the first commandment.
Whether you believe or not is one thing. But to dismiss, as Aslan and others do, from the outset that there must be a real story behind the story is to not take seriously enough the serious questions:
How is it the first disciples claimed to have been encountered by something (the resurrection of a crucified Jew) they had no contextual reason to expect or invent?
What seized these observant, faithful Jews that was so compelling it prompted them (allowed them) to violate what was otherwise the most sacrosanct of laws?
After all, if the first commandment was that malleable to these Jews they would’ve saved themselves much suffering and persecution by violating in Caesar’s favor rather than Christ’s.
In 1.2 of the Dogmatics, Barth begins by wondering what it means for God to reveal and speak and we, as humans, can even know that God has/does reveal(ed).
Barth is frank where Aslan and others obfuscate.
Barth admits that when it comes to our knowing and God’s revelation, there are only two possible options.
We can begin with our own experience and understanding of the world (Aslan) which eventually brings us to the impossibility of God’s revelation.
Or, we can start with and accept in faith the “actuality” of God’s revelation of himself to us in Christ.
There’s only two choices Barth makes plain, but, Barth insists, they are choices. We’re not bound to the first option.
So, rather than trying to get at the Jesus behind the text, which always prove an elusive golden calf, Barth begins with the event of God’s self-revelation in Christ.
We can trust what the Bible says, in other words, because we already know what God has said/says in Jesus Christ. Jesus, the Word made flesh, corroborates the words of scripture. Not the other way around.
And if this sounds like a semantic shell-game, Barth insisting we can know because ‘the bible tells us so,’ then I think Barth would point you back, as he does here in the CD, to what a counter-intuitive surprise it is that the first confession (historically attested outside scripture) was:
“Jesus is Lord”
Aslan, Borg et al would have the first Christians, wholesale, committing idolatry rather than surrender their own modernist assumptions.
But where Aslan, Borg et al think Christianity was originally a set of teachings or a this-worldly political agenda, Barth won’t let us forget the one indisputable fact of Christian history:
The first Christian believed SOMETHING HAPPENED.
Something happened that caused them to rethink all their religious assumptions, forsake all their categories of shame and power, reread their sacred texts, commit what would otherwise be the worst of sins (idolatry) and ultimately sacrifice their lives on crosses of their own.
You can believe or not believe Resurrection.
You can dismiss it as an historical possibility out of hand.
But you can’t dismiss that the first followers of Jesus were so compelled as to reorient their entire minds and lives that SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED.