The Other Barth: On Markus Barth
One of my favourite NT scholars/theologians is Barth, no, not Karl Barth - he’s okay - but I’ve always been a fan of his son, Markus Barth, who was an accomplished scholar in his own right. One of the first blog posts I ever wrote, I mean, like way back in 2006, was a tribute to Markus Barth. So I thought I’d invite Rev. Dr. Mark Lindsay, of Trinity College Melbourne, who is currently writing a biography of Markus Barth, to write a guest post about why you need to know who Markus Barth is and why you might want to read some of his works!
So, you read theology, and you’re interested in all those dead, German-speaking theologians from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Naturally, you turn to the imposing figure of Karl Barth. You may not agree with everything he has to say, but – with six million words of profound, complex, Christocentric theology just within the Church Dogmatics, let alone the dozens of other books and articles he wrote throughout his career – there’s bound to be something to read with profit and edification. Yes, it takes a life’s career to read, digest, and fully appreciate Karl Barth’s contribution to both the theological academy and the church. So, why turn anywhere else? More to the point, why turn to his son, Markus, about whom you may not even have heard before? As someone who for the better part of the last 30 years has focused on the life and theology of Karl Barth, but who is just now in the final stages of writing Markus’s biography, let me share some thoughts as to why I think the younger Barth is also worth reading and engaging with.
1. Theology and biography are always intricately connected – and Markus’s life story is in itself fascinating. Markus was nothing if not adventurous, living a life that richly informed his theological work. This is someone who, as a high school student in 1933, stood on the roof of his Gymnasium in Bonn shouting ‘Death to Hitler!’, not unsurprisingly being chased by the Gestapo afterwards! After the war, he served as a chaplain to German Prisoners-of-War in the UK and Scotland. Then, through the 1950s-60s, he actively and publicly championed the civil rights movement in the US, while also – equally publicly – denouncing America’s involvement in Vietnam. As much a socialist as his father ever was, Markus’s political convictions shaped his life, and also informed his theology. Indeed, one reviewer complained about Markus’s Philemon commentary for its alleged indebtedness to a socialistic liberation theology.
2. The detail of his exegesis is exemplary. As primarily a New Testament scholar, Markus was criticised on occasion for being too pedantic in his exegetical detail. And certainly, anyone who can write a 550-page commentary on the 25 verses of Philemon, or spend an entire semester teaching on the six verses of Gal.2:15-21, is perhaps guilty of being just a tad too obsessive. On the other hand, it is precisely this attention to the minutiae that makes his biblical scholarship amongst ‘the most significant efforts in the field’ (Carolyn Osiek), and that makes Markus himself ‘a profound exegete and powerful expositor’ (Fred Sanders). One of the reasons for this detail is that Markus insisted on keeping all questions on the table, whether that be the in-principle openness of the scriptural canon, or the authorial identity of Ephesians (fwiw, Markus argued for Paul).
3. His theology of the sacraments is instructive, yet at the same time infuriatingly provocative. In 1983, Markus wrote to Bernard Ramm claiming that his work on baptism and the eucharist were his best pieces, precisely because they extended – and differed from – Karl’s ideas. And famously, Karl himself felt compelled to rewrite his own theology of baptism after reading Markus’s 1951 book Die Taufe – eine Sakrament? As an Anglican who has, I admit, a much more Catholic view of liturgy and sacraments (yes, real presence, chasubles, and a devotion to the BVM are my thing!), I am worlds away from Markus’s views on baptism and eucharist. I find his rejection of what he calls ‘High Church sacramentalism’ to be cavalier and – in contrast to the wissenschaftlich openness he brought to his exegesis – unhelpfully intransigent. Nonetheless, he argues for some intriguing, even if unpersuasive, ideas. John the Baptist’s baptismal rite – insofar as it was the baptism received by Jesus – should be our model. And this model, he said, was ‘a form of prophetic protest against misused, misunderstood…temple service [and] priesthood…’ I’m not sure I can agree to that being a model for emulation – but it does serve as a reminder that neither should baptism be regarded as (simply) an ‘act of expansion…of the Church.’ As for the Lord’s Supper, I again find it impossible to accept Markus’s anti-sacramentalism. But his late (1986) reasoning for denying sacramental status to the eucharist is fascinating. Given his insistence that the Last Supper must be read as a Passover meal, Markus understood the emergent Lord’s Supper as a meal that acts as a nexus between Israel and church. So, to grant it sacramental status – one thing that Jews cannot in any sense do – is to ‘make obsolete all elements of remembrance and celebration that may tie the church to Israel.’ I think his rationale is faulty – but I applaud his commitment to Jewish-Christian solidarity.
4. As a pioneer of Jewish-Christian dialogue and reconciliation in the aftermath of WWII, Markus is in rare company. Few Christian theologians before him understood quite as well the need, in the wake of the Sho’ah, to root out all vestiges of theological antisemitism. His commentaries on Ephesians – both for the Anchor Bible series, as well as the more ‘popular’ The Broken Wall – are predicated upon a conviction that the covenantal unity of Jews and Christians is the sine qua non of the church’s theological and moral existence. This conviction, however (which I wholeheartedly share), was grounded also in a belief that such kinship solidarity must enable rigorous and fulsome critique of one another – hence Markus lost many of his Jewish friends (Emil Fackenheim, Michael Wyschogrod) by his denunciation of successive Israeli State policies against the Palestinians. Indeed, so convinced was he of the rightness of the Palestinian cause that, on at least one occasion – even as a committed supporter of the Jewish people – he met with Yassar Arafat. Karl Barth, it must be said, was also a long-time supporter of Israel and the Jews, and an equally strident opponent of every and all antisemitism – but one can hardly imagine him sitting down with the leader of the PLO!
5. He was a preacher’s theologian. There is nothing in Markus’s theological work that is divorced from the needs and responsibilities of pastoral work. In this (strange as it may sound), he shares much with his father. Both Barths knew themselves to be in the service of the church. And so, we find Markus preferring the Reformed seminaries in Iowa (Dubuque) and Pennsylvania (Pittsburgh) to the more distinguished halls of The University of Chicago’s Divinity School. Even in Basel, he was always more concerned to teach his New Testament classes as practical resources for those who would soon be preaching, than as purely academic exercises for those whose minds wanted tickling.
For a good primer on Markus Barth, check out his little book on Justification, which is only $8.99 on Logos. Markus Barth digs into Paul’s theology of justification and pays particularly attention to the apostle’s Jewish background.
In short, there is much in Markus Barth’s life and theology to be mined for great profit – whether that be in terms of New Testament scholarship, inter-faith dialogue, or the utility of sound theology to contemporary public political discourse. As his first biographer, I take some pride in feeling that, with the exception of his family and closest friends, I probably know Markus Barth – his life and his theology – better than most. And in that knowledge, I find myself simultaneously inspired and aggravated by him. Do I wish that, on some occasions, he had kept his mouth shut? Yes. Do I find his theological conclusions always to be persuasive? No – and perhaps, as someone who is more Anglo-Catholic than Reformed, that is to be expected. But do I find him to be fascinating – even compelling? Absolutely. The task of the theologian is not to surround her or himself only with people who are agreeable, but also with people who will make you think, and engage more critically, with the Scriptures, and with how they call us to live in the world. Markus Barth does that, and more.
I can do nothing other than commend him to you.
Mark Lindsay is a historical theologian, with over 20 years of experience teaching, researching, and providing senior academic leadership in Australian and overseas universities. His specific areas of interest are Barthian and post-Holocaust theologies, Patristic and modern European Church History, and Anglican Studies. He is a priest in the Anglican Diocese of Melbourne.
Loved this article, very curious to read Mark Lindsay's bio on Mark Barth. Love the style of writing and the intelligent comments on father and son Barths:)
How interesting! I'd never even heard of the younger Barth.