Karl Barth’s Theological Zoo

Karl Barth, arguably the most influential evangelical theologian of the 20th century, is remembered not only for his impact among theologians, but also for his down-to-earth humility.

He famously appeared for one of his 1959 lectures at Princeton Theological Seminary wearing a handmade t-shirt from one of the seminary students’ informal stickball teams. 

When asked, at one of these same lectures, whether he could sum up his enormous, 14-volume Systematic Theology in a few words, Barth outrageously met the student’s challenge by leaning back in his chair, counting time with his hand and singing::

Jesus loves me, this I know,
for the Bible tells me so.

For your meditations, I here offer a few of his zoological insights:

“We Christians must not sit among
unbelievers like melancholy owls”

As I take it, we are to be warm, gracious and gregarious to those who are outside of our faith. Joy and generosity should characterize our witness. We are called to be light and life—big-hearted and kind—and to share the Gospel with ready enthusiasm:

The Church runs like a herald to deliver its message.  It is not a snail with a little house on its back and so well off in it that only now and then it sticks out its feelers and thinks that ‘the claim of publicity’ has been satisfied.”

In all times, there is a great danger in the church of becoming shy, ingrown, and introverted on the whole. Barth reminds us that we are here for the world.

When considering the Apostles’ Creed and the mention of Pontius Pilate, he says:

How does Pilate come into the Creed? 
Like a dog into a nice room.

Not a good dog—not your or my dog—but a pitiable creature, a mongrel, a cur. That he is even mentioned in the creed does him undue honor, yet it reminds us of the depths to which God plumbs in order that we be saved. God’s love comes all the way down and wrestles with the same fleshly powers that can assault us.

Because we are simple human beings, we can get caught up in secondary, sidelong issues. We can get very worked up over all kinds of things. We can mount crusades, or even come to think that all Christians must share our opinions. We can become like tin soldiers, all armored-up for the wrong battles. Or, as Barth puts it:

A Christian with an agenda is like a bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage, just because everyone doesn’t accept his ideas, projects, or rituals.

The Christian is meant for freedom and flight, not the confinement of petty squabbles. We don’t sell out our witness to the Gospel for the passing fancies of popular culture. We don’t allow the Gospel to be muzzled, co-opted and corrupted by the parades of humankind. Barth’s admonition calls us all to get out of the cage before we start wing-flapping. We were not made for the cage—not saved for re-confinement.  †