Karl Barth: Reflections on “Revival”

The awakenings of which we might think were not always, and

above all did not always remain, what they were meant to be and

very largely were within their limits and in their own way. It was not

merely that the dynamic of awakening did not always or usually last

long enough, but generally passed quite quickly into a new state of

slumber which made necessary new and often very different

awakenings. More particularly, the dynamic of the newly

experienced and proclaimed process of vocation often forced itself

into the forefront as such even [Page 514] in the initial stages. In

face of the static condition of popular Christianity, it could thus

* practice of piety

assume the form only of the power of generally religious and to that

extent “secular” feelings, excitements and explosions, of particular

experiences of the numinous in terms, e.g., of the majesty of God,

the stringency of a moral commandment or fear of the judgment of

God in death and hell. And in not a few cases it could even take the

form quite simply of the magic fluid of specific personalities

(evangelists, pastors, rulers of deaconesses etc.) and their influence,

and occasionally their lust for power. In such cases there was little

place for the call of the Lord, for dynamic illumination by the

Gospel, or for awakening by His revelation and to His knowledge.

The awakenings could become a ground of offence to both

Christians and non-Christians, obscuring instead of enlightening,

confusing instead of clarifying, leading away from the light of Jesus

Christ instead of to it, and thus bringing new sickness to Christianity

instead of restoring it to health.

Yet even in the worst cases we must not condemn or reject

without asking the following question. Even in the most strange and

perhaps bizarre of such awakenings, is there not concealed and

borne, at least potentially, something of the genuine awakening, of

the real illumination to “the knowledge of the glory of God in the

face of Jesus Christ,” by which we should be stimulated and

reminded, and in which it is more important that we should

participate than simply criticise because of the weak and confused

way in which it is represented? Even the most dreadful conceivable

instances of enthusiastic extravagance surely do not alter the basic

necessity of the concern which they undoubtedly proclaim and may

impart in face of a Christianity, Church and theology continually

overcome by slumber. What would have become of mediaeval

Christendom with all its domes and altars and stained glass and

scholasticism and corpus christianum* so wonderfully represented in

its spiritual and secular head, if Francis and his followers had notentered the scene and initiated such a movement with all its healthy

and less healthy features? What would have become of earlier and

more recent Protestantism on the Continent and in England and

Scotland, and what could it possibly be to-day, without the great and

little stirrings and disruptions occasioned by dissenters and

enthusiasts and sectarians of many different kinds? It must not be

forgotten that in respect of its positive substance the Reformation

itself bore very clearly the marks of a revival in its early years, that

Luther and Karlstadt were at first good friends, and that Calvin could

talk of a subita conversio*. Many things would have been very

different and much better to-day if this forward-reaching motif had

not been lost so quickly when the Reformers and their successors

became afraid of their own rashness in the need to secure themselves

and out of aversion to the so-called fanatics.

Karl Barth is not remembered as having had too much good to say about Pietist and Revivalist traditions. But…ok, so he didn’t. (For more on this, see Eberhard Busch’s excellent book on Karl Barth and the Pietists.) However, I came across this fascinating passage in preparation for our weekly Barth reading group. Read on…!

The awakenings of which we might think were not always, and above all did not always remain, what they were meant to be and very largely were within their limits and in their own way. It was not merely that the dynamic of awakening did not always or usually last long enough, but generally passed quite quickly into a new state of slumber which made necessary new and often very different awakenings. . . And in not a few cases it could even take the form quite simply of the magic fluid of specific personalities (evangelists, pastors, rulers of deaconesses etc.) and their influence, and occasionally their lust for power. In such cases there was little place for the call of the Lord, for dynamic illumination by the Gospel, or for awakening by His revelation and to His knowledge. The awakenings could become a ground of offence to both Christians and non-Christians, obscuring instead of enlightening, confusing instead of clarifying, leading away from the light of Jesus Christ instead of to it, and thus bringing new sickness to Christianity instead of restoring it to health.

Yet even in the worst cases we must not condemn or reject without asking the following question. Even in the most strange and perhaps bizarre of such awakenings, is there not concealed and borne, at least potentially, something of the genuine awakening, of the real illumination to “the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ,” by which we should be stimulated and reminded, and in which it is more important that we should participate than simply criticise because of the weak and confused way in which it is represented? Even the most dreadful conceivable instances of enthusiastic extravagance surely do not alter the basic necessity of the concern which they undoubtedly proclaim and may impart in face of a Christianity, Church and theology continually overcome by slumber. What would have become of mediaeval Christendom with all its domes and altars and stained glass and scholasticism and corpus christianum [Christian society] so wonderfully represented in its spiritual and secular head, if Francis and his followers had notentered the scene and initiated such a movement with all its healthy and less healthy features? What would have become of earlier and more recent Protestantism on the Continent and in England and Scotland, and what could it possibly be to-day, without the great and little stirrings and disruptions occasioned by dissenters and enthusiasts and sectarians of many different kinds? It must not be forgotten that in respect of its positive substance the Reformation itself bore very clearly the marks of a revival in its early years . . . . Many things would have been very different and much better to-day if this forward-reaching motif had not been lost so quickly when the Reformers and their successors became afraid of their own rashness in the need to secure themselves and out of aversion to the so-called fanatics.

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV.3.2, pp. 513-4.