§ 61. Conception of Theology as Science

Like every other science, the science of Theology can be spoken of in a twofold sense, viz. either with reference to the intellectual labor expended upon Theology, or with reference to the results of that labor. In the latter sense, Theology as science also remains the knowledge of God; for though its result is not an increase of the knowledge of God, and can only lead to a clearer insight into the revealed knowledge of God, yet every gain in clearness of insight magnifies the worth of that knowledge. The microscope adds nothing to the wing of the butterfly, but enables me to obtain a richer knowledge of that wing. And while the science of Theology adds no new knowledge of God to the knowledge revealed to us, scientific Theology renders my fuller assimilation of its content possible.

Whether this scientific insight into the knowledge of God is possible and necessary, depends upon the stage of development which has been reached by the human consciousness. In fact, in the sense in which we now interpret the domain of theological studies as one organic whole, the science of Theology has only been born in our century. Even down to the middle of the last century, while there was a Theology, as Dogmatics, with which other studies were connected, yet the necessity was not felt of moulding these into one organic whole, and still less the impulse to conjoin this unit of Theology organically with the other sciences into one architectural whole of science. This was not accidental, but the immediate consequence of the general spirit of the times. This same phenomenon presented itself not only in the domain of Theology, but in the domain of every other science. The Encyclopedia of Theology had already made considerable advances, while all encyclopedical insight into the psychical and medical sciences was still entirely wanting, and in the philological and juridical sciences it had scarcely yet begun. Impelled by its own exceptional position, as well as by the alarming attitude the other sciences assumed against it, Theology was the first to give itself an account of its place and of its calling. For the greater part of the last century, however, this attempt bore an apologetic character; and only when, by and after Kant, the question about the essence and the method of our knowledge, and consequently of the nature of science in general, pressed itself forcefully to the front, in our human consciousness, was there gradually adopted the organic interpretation of Theology as a whole and as one of the sciences in the great unit of the sciences, which is now dominant in the Theological faculty, and is being more widely recognized by the other faculties. Formerly a science of Theology in that sense was not necessary, because the human consciousness in general did not feel the need of such an interpretation; neither was it possible, because the data for such a construction of Theology, and of all the other sciences, cannot be borrowed from the knowledge of God, but from Logic in the higher sense.

Hence the conception, which was formed of Theology in the academic sense, has certainly been modified. Theology, taken in the subjective sense, was understood to be our human insight into the revealed knowledge of God, and this insight was graded as the subject chanced to be a layman, a scholar, or more especially a theologian; but even in this highest sense Theology was limited to Dogmatics, generally with Ethics included. This learned insight into the revealed knowledge of God was for the most part explained after the scheme of Aristotle or Peter Ramus, and defended against all objections. This study alone was called Theology, besides which some theologians would study Church History and other similar branches; but the relation of all these to real Theology was merely mechanical. At present, however, the name of Theology covers the entire realm of these studies; there is no rest until a starting-point for Theology has been found in the unit of science; and, in this connection, the effort is also made to understand organically the essence of Theology itself.

It is evident that this has given rise to a serious danger of falsifying the nature of Theology. As what used to count as the whole of Theology has been classed as a mere part, the tendency was bound to exhibit itself to seek the heart of Theology no longer in its principal factor, but in its auxiliary departments; and similarly when the articulation of Theology to the organism of science is traced, of necessity its Nature can no longer be explained simply from its own principle alone, but also from the general principle of science. Both these dangers have shown themselves and have brought their evil with them; even to such a measure that in the conceptions of Theology, as severally formed in our times, scarcely a trace of the original significance remains. This compels us to hold fast, tooth and nail, to the original meaning; and therefore, starting out from the idea of Theology, we have made a transition from the idea to the conception of Theology, in which the conception of the knowledge of God remains the principal part.

The way in which the several departments of theological study are organically related to this knowledge of God can only be shown when we come to consider the organism of Theology; here, however, this organic relation is merely assumed, so that we do not even say which departments of study do and which do not find a place in this organic unit. At present we only speak of a certain group of studies which together have announced themselves as a theological science, and are recognized as such at the great majority of universities. This group of departments offers a scientific treatment of all sorts of material, which, however widely they may differ, must nevertheless be bound together by a common motive. This motive neither can nor may be anything else but the idea of Theology itself, and hence must be contained in the knowledge of God revealed to us. If for a moment, therefore, we dismiss from our thoughts the division of departments, and thus picture to ourselves the theological science as one whole, “this revealed knowledge of God,” and this alone, is its object of investigation. This investigation would be superfluous if this knowledge of God were revealed to us in a dialectic, discursive form. Then, indeed, the human mind would be released from all necessity for assimilating this knowledge of God. But such is not the case. The knowledge of God is revealed to us in a veiled form, just such as was necessary in order that it might be valid for every age and people, for every time of life, grade of development, and condition. Not the dialectically acute Greek, but the mystic-symbolic man from the East, was chosen as the instrument to reveal to us this knowledge of God. Hence a considerable distance still separates this knowledge of God, as it has been revealed, from the world of the entirely clarified human consciousness, and the consciousness of man has yet to perform a giant’s task, before it has appropriated the treasures of that Revelation with transparent purity and has reflected it from itself.

This labor, therefore, is nevertheless not scientific labor in its entire extent. There are lower grades in the development of our consciousness, which, though they do not bear the scientific stamp, are yet productive of early fruit. The assimilation of the revealed knowledge of God by our human consciousness has gone through all these grades. There is a labor of thought devoted to this knowledge of God, which has had for its exclusively practical purpose the persuasion of him who stands afar off to confess Christ. There is a labor of thought expended upon this Revelation with no other purpose than to defend it against opposition and heresy. This knowledge of God has been reflected upon by the human consciousness in the personal application of it to one’s own condition and experience of soul. Human power of thought has entered upon this knowledge of God in preparation for preaching and catechizing. No less in the formulation of dogma has human power of intellect labored in the sweat of its brow. And all that national acumen and the spirit of a given age, or the sense of a peculiar confession, could produce in rich variation has been applied with indefatigable diligence and indomitable perseverance to cause the beauty of this “knowledge of God” to glisten to its utmost in the prism of our human thought. But all this, however excellent and rich, is not yet what we understand by Theology as science. Of this we can speak only when our intellect does not perform mere menial service for other purposes, but when in our consciousness itself awakens the sense of its higher calling, viz. to transmute the mechanic relation between itself and its object into an organic one. Of course, this does not imply that science should exist merely for the sake of knowledge, and that in entire self-sufficiency it should lose itself in abstractions. On the contrary, science also, as a sphere of the Logos, is called as a creature of God to serve its Creator, and its high and practical purpose in our behalf is, that it should emancipate us, afford us an independent position in the face of threatening powers, and that thus it should advance our human existence to higher estates. This, however, can only be more fully explained when we come to consider concretely the place of Theology in the whole organism of science. For the forming of the conception of Theology, it is sufficient if it is seen that the science of Theology can flourish as a plant by itself only when our human consciousness takes the reins in its own hands and becomes aware of its sacred calling to melt the ore of this “revealed knowledge of God” into shining gold, in order, apart from every incidental aim, as soon as this task is done, to place the fruit of its labor at the disposal of the higher aim to which its labor especially must be directed.

But because this science engages itself with theologia, i.e. the knowledge of God, as its object, it could not claim the name of Theology, if it were not included in the plan of Revelation and in the nature of this knowledge of God that the Logos in this higher sense should be one of the means to enrich our subjective insight into this ectypal knowledge of God. For which reason we mentioned the fact, in our discussion of Revelation, that it is also the calling of the logical activity to introduce this knowledge of God into the general subject of re-created humanity. Christ is no doubt this general subject in its central sense, on which account, as shown above, “wisdom” is given in Him; but this is still entirely different from the “understanding” of the general subject of humanity in the general human consciousness. Only when from the central subject (Christ) this “wisdom” has entered into individual believers and into circles of believers of different times is it possible that, from these individual and social insights into the wisdom of God, a different kind of insight can gradually be formed as “understanding,” which cannot rest until it has become adequate to the content of the wisdom which was in the central human consciousness, i.e. in Christ. But even if for a moment we imagine the unattainable ideal that the content of each were adequate, yet the nature of each would be entirely different; what was “wisdom” in Christ as the central subject would have become “understanding” and “science” in the general subject of regenerated humanity; and it is the science of Theology alone that can lead to “understanding” in this given sense. As in every domain science, by the establishing of the general human consciousness, unveils the possibility of single persons and individual groups, broadening their insight and clarifying it, such is also the case here. The more the science of Theology succeeds in giving theology to the general subject of regenerated humanity, and thus in bringing this general subject to the knowledge of God, the more clearly does it open the way to the churches and to believers to attain, at least so far as the intellect is concerned, to a fuller knowledge of God, and thus to a better theology. Even as science it adds its contribution to the subjective assimilation of the knowledge of God within its appointed sphere, and so derives its right to claim for itself the name of Theology. Thus it presents itself to us as a logical activity, which transfers ectypal knowledge of God from Revelation, as “understanding,” into the general subject of (regenerated) humanity.

Meanwhile this qualification of regenerated humanity demands a fuller explanation. God does not love individual persons, but the world. His election does not abandon the human race to perdition, merely to save individuals, and to unite these as atoms to an aggregate under Christ; but He saves humanity, He redeems our race, and if all of our race are not saved, it is because they who are lost are cut off from the tree of humanity. There is no organism in hell, but an aggregate. In the realm of glory, on the other hand, there is no aggregate but the “body of Christ,” and hence an organic whole. This organic whole is no new “body,” but the original organism of humanity, as it was created under Adam as its central unity. Therefore the Scripture teaches that Christ is the second Adam, i.e. that Christ in His way now occupies the same place in the human race which was originally occupied by Adam. Hence it is not something else nor something new, but it is the original human race, it is humanity, which, reconciled and regenerated, is to accomplish the logical task of taking up subjectively into its consciousness this revealed ectypal Theology, and to reflect it from that consciousness. Whatever a man may be, as long as he does not share the life and thought of this regenerated humanity, he cannot share this task. “The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. ii. 14). Our consciousness is connected with our being. Without palingenesis there is no adaptation of our consciousness conceivable, which would enable it to assimilate or reflect ectypal Theology, and it is only by the “enlightening,” as the result of palingenesis, that our consciousness receives the susceptibility for this. As in the general subject of humanity the spirit of man (τὸ πνεῦμα) is the real agent, so in the general subject of humanity, or in the body of Christ, the spirit (πνεῦμα) in this body, i.e. the Holy Spirit, is the inner animator. And therefore the science of Theology is a task which must be accomplished, under the leading of the Holy Spirit, by regenerated humanity, and by those from among its ranks who, being partakers of palingenesis, and enriched by “enlightening,” have also in their natural disposition those special talents which are necessary for this intellectual task.

That the science of Theology is thereby not isolated nor cut off from the common root of all science, can only be explained when we consider the organism of Theology. Here we affirm that in every domain palingenesis revivifies the original man as “a creature of God,” and for no single moment abandons what was given in the nature of man. Sin tries to turn the excellencies of this nature into their opposites, but this fatal effect of sin has been restrained by common grace; and where particular grace renders this restraint potentially complete, and at the same time potentially recovers original purity, from the nature of the case the action of the Spirit in the sphere of palingenesis remains identical with the action of the Logos in human nature, and joins itself to the common grace, which has called all science into being, at every point of investigation.

The science of Theology, therefore, is nothing but a specialization of what is given in the idea of Theology. It is not all Theology, neither may all subjective assimilation of ectypic knowledge of God be appropriated by it. Among the different assimilations of this knowledge of God, Theology as a science occupies a place of its own, which is defined by its nature as an organic member in the unit of sciences. And thus we come to this conception of Theology, viz. that it is that science which has the revealed knowledge of God as the object of its investigation, and raises it to “understanding.” Or in broader terms, the science of Theology is that logical action of the general subject of regenerated humanity by which, in the light of the Holy Spirit, it takes up the revealed knowledge of God into its consciousness and from thence reflects it. If, on the other hand, the science of Theology is not taken in its active sense, but as a product, then Theology is the scientific insight of the regenerated human consciousness into the revealed knowledge of God.

This conception diverges entirely from what the several schools at present understand by Theology as a science; and this compels us, in defence of our definition, to investigate first the several degenerations of Theology as knowledge of God, and then the several falsifications of the conception of Theology as science.

§ 62. Degenerations of Theology as “Knowledge of God”

The idea and significance of Theology has been corrupted in two respects: on the one hand with reference to Theology as “knowledge of God,” and on the other with reference to Theology as “science.” This section treats of the first kind of degeneration, and the following of the falsification of Theology as science.

With reference to the degeneration of Theology, taken in the sense of “knowledge of God,” we must begin with Natural Theology (theologia naturalis), since only in view of this natural knowledge of God can there be any question of Theology with those who reject special revelation (revelatio specialis). It is common in our times to seek the tie which unites the higher life of pagan nations to our own, in religion. A general conception of religion is then placed in the foreground. It is deemed that in this general sense religion is present in almost all these nations. Affinity is observed among their several religions, but also a gradual difference. In all this it is thought that a process is perceptible, and it is by means of this many-sided process that the Christian religion is brought into relation to these lower forms. We do not take this way, because religion and knowledge of God are not the same, and it is in the latter that Theology finds its only point of departure. Religion can be interpreted as a sense, a service, or an obligation, but in none of these is it identical with the “knowledge of God.” This is most strongly emphasized by the pious agnostic who claims himself to be religious, and yet on principle excludes all knowledge of God. The loss from sight of this specific difference between religion and Theology accounts for the fact, that even in the science of Theology religion has been put in the place of its original object.

This compels us to seek the tie that binds us to pagan nations, not in the phenomenal side of their religious life-expressions, but, along with Scripture, in natural Theology; which at the same time offers this advantage, not to be despised, that we need not confine ourselves to the national forms of ritual, but can also deal with the theology which, outside of these rituals, can be observed in their mysteries and in their poets and philosophers. It is well said, that even the most repulsive idolatry stands in organic relation to the purest revelation. There is a generic unity, which in former times was too greatly lost from sight, and is still overlooked too much, especially by Methodism; overlooked also in the work of missions. The purest confession of truth finds ultimately its starting-point in the seed of religion (semen religionis), which, thanks to common grace, is still present in the fallen sinner; and, on the other hand, there is no form of idolatry so low, or so corrupted, but has sprung from this same semen religionis. Without natural Theology there is no Abba, Father, conceivable, any more than a Moloch ritual. In so far, then, we agree in principle with the present day Science of Religion (Religionswissenschaft). On the other hand, we place ourselves in direct opposition to it, as soon as it tries to fill in the interval between this Abba, Father, and the Moloch ritual with the undulations of a gradually advancing process. There is here no transition nor gradual development, but an antithesis between the positive and negative working of a selfsame power. With natural Theology it is the same as it is with faith and ethics. Ethical life knows only one normal development, viz. that to holiness; but over against this positive stands the negative development along the line of sin. Sin is an “actual deprivation,” and not merely a want (carentia), and therefore it is virtue turned into its opposite, and such by the negative working of all the glorious power which by nature belongs to the ethical life. Likewise unbelief, as shown above, is no want of faith, but an actuosa privatio fidei, i.e. the power of faith turned into its opposite. And in the same way idolatry also is no outcome of the imagination, nor of factors in the human consciousness that gradually develop themselves, but of an actuosa privatio of the natural knowledge of God. In the idolater both the motive and the content of this natural theology are turned into their opposites. It is the same wheel, turning itself on the same pivot, but in a reverse or averse direction. The Christian Religion and Paganism do not stand related to each other as the higher and lower forms of development of the same thing; but the Christian religion is the highest form of development natural theology was capable of along the positive line; while all paganism is a development of that selfsame natural theology in the negative direction. Christendom and Paganism stand to each other as the plus and minus forms of the same series.

From this it appears that natural theology is not taken by us in that worn-out sense in which, at the close of the seventeenth century, a barren scheme of individual truths was framed, which was made to stand as natural theology alongside of the supernatural. Natural theology is with us no schema, but the knowledge of God itself, which still remains in the sinner and is still within his reach, entirely in harmony with the sense of Rom. i. 19 sq. and Rom. ii. 14 sq. Sin, indeed, is an absolute darkening power, and were not its effect temporarily checked, nothing but absolute darkness would have remained in and about man; but common grace has restrained its workings to a very considerable degree; also in order that the sinner might be without excuse. In consequence of this common grace there remain the rudera or sparks of light in the sinner, and the curse upon nature has not yet come in such measure but that “invisible things” are clearly seen, because understood by the things that are made (Rom. i. 20). Hence the condition of man and his world are not such as they would have been if sin had at once accomplished its end; but, thanks to common grace, both are of such a character that knowledge of God is still possible, either by way of tradition, or as the result of personal insight, such as has been found in generous measures in the midst of paganism, in its mysteries as well as with its poets and philosophers. But, and this is the point, instead of clinging fast to this, the sinner in general has played a wilful game with this fruit of common grace, and consequently his “foolish heart” has become entirely “foolishness” and “darkness.” And only as result of this abuse which the sinner has made of natural theology, God at last has “given him over,” as Paul reiterates it three times in Rom. i. God has let go His hold upon him; and in consequence of this desertion of God the curse of self-degradation and of brutishness has come upon paganism, and now constitutes its real mark.

Hence two mistakes have here been made, and two errors are to be guarded against. Our older theologians have too greatly ignored paganism, and have explained it too exclusively from a demoniacal motive, and thereby have not allowed the organic relation to show itself sufficiently, which unmistakably exists between true and false theology, as the normal and abnormal working of one and the same impelling principle; while, on the other hand, it is the error of our times to abandon the antithesis of true and false, to identify the two, and to prefer the form of the process of development to this organic relation. If formerly they failed per defectum, we now fail per excessum. And true insight into the organic relation between true Theology and Paganism is only obtained when the antithesis is fully recognized between the positive and negative development of common grace. There is here also an antithesis between true and degenerate development, which the more they progress, the farther they separate from each other,— an antithesis which is in no single particular a lesser one than that between good and evil, as both expressions of the one ethical principle implanted in us all.

We do not deny that a process has taken place; only this process is twofold. As at the fork in the road where good and evil separate a twofold process begins, of which one leads to an ever richer revelation of that which is holy, and the other to an ever sadder exhibition of that which is demoniacal in sin, such also is here the case. From the times of Abraham the lines of true and false theology separate. Not as though this antithesis did not exist before; but because at this point the two manifestations assume each an historic form of its own. And from this point we have on the one hand a development of true theology, which reaches potentially its acme in Christ, and on the other hand also a deterioration of false theology, which in a negative sense must likewise run its course to the end. In another volume this will be more fully explained. Here we can only locate the point of view where one must stand, in order that the organic relation between our own confession and that of Paganism may fully exhibit itself again, and at the same time the danger be avoided of weakening the distinction between these two to a relative difference.

To preclude the possible objection, that the theology of Greek philosophy stands higher and approaches nearer to the truth than the Animistic and Fetishistic forms of paganism, we observe: first, that it should not be considered proper to link the theological representations of a negro tribe to those of a people so highly cultured as that which gave being to Greek philosophy. The hypothesis that all nations have begun with Animism, and have gradually mounted the several rounds of the scale, is entirely unsupported. Our second observation is, that dissimilar magnitudes cannot be compared, and hence the cultus-forms of any people cannot be compared to the theological teachings (theologumena) of philosophers. For comparison the cultus-forms of paganism must be contrasted with the practical religion of these philosophers, and their theological teachings with the ideas concerning the infinite and its workings which are fundamental to the cultus-forms of the nations of lower standing, or of the Greeks. By which comparison it appears at once that the philosophers had no cultus-forms, and obtained them only when in Neo-Platonism, Gnosticism, etc., they had adopted elements from the Christian religion. This shows that Natural Theology operated in them more as an intellectual power than as a devotional impulse, — a fact which of itself leads to our third observation, viz. that however high, from an intellectual point of view, the theological teachings of Greek philosophy may stand, in the main they exhibit a much stronger deterioration of the true knowledge of God, inasmuch as they destroyed the feeling of dependence, in place of which, in Stoicism, they substituted human self-sufficiency. In the negro, who trembles as he kneels before his Fetish, there is more of the fear of God than in the proud philosopher, who reasons about the gods (or about τὸ θεῖον) as about powers, of which he will determine what they are. In the negro there is still a considerable degree of vitality of the seed of religion, while in the self-sufficient philosopher it is dead. He reasons; in however imperfect a way, the negro worships.

As Christian Ethics not only deals with the positive development of good, but reckons as well with the negative development of evil, Christian theology also is not to confine itself to the study of true theology, but must also deal with false theology in paganism; and this it must do not merely for the sake of making obvious the monstrosity of pagan representations,— this, indeed, would not be a proper interpretation of its task,— but rather that it may show that this paganism also is born of natural theology, and discover the law which this false development has obeyed. There is no single datum in idolatry, which is inherent in it, but has sprung from natural theology. Of course this does not underestimate the inworking of tradition from paradise, nor the influence exerted by Israel. When the antithesis between true and false theology is sharply seen, the true must have preceded the false, and idolatry can be nothing else than deterioration; which implies of itself that, as with all deterioration, some elements of the originally pure development still cooperate. And with reference to the inworking of special revelation, it should not be lost from sight, that from the days of Abraham, the people of revelation have ever been in touch with the surrounding nations, and that extensive journeys, for the sake of finding out what other nations taught concerning Divine things, suited entirely the spirit of the ancients. With this purpose in view the passes of the Himalaya were crossed from China to the Ganges. Add to this the great significance and calling of the empire of Solomon, and the fact that the prophets appeared long before the Greek philosophers, and it betrays little historical sense, when a priori all effect of Israel upon paganism and pagan philosophy is denied. But this after-effect of tradition, as well as that possible inworking of Israel, are accidental. They are not inherent in the contrary process of natural theology in its deterioration. Hence this process itself must be investigated, not for the sake of paying homage to the theology of paganism as such, but to show that the religious life of these pagan nations was founded upon some theology, which as such was not invented, but is the necessary result of the sinful development of natural theology.

Islam occupies here a somewhat separate position. Just as with Gnosticism and Manichaeism, we here deal with a unit of theological representations which has special revelation back of it, and partly included in it. This presents three factors for our consideration. First, the contrary development of natural theology, which here also forms the pagan background. Secondly, the contrary development of supranatural theology, which had an entirely peculiar career. And, thirdly, the syncretistic element, which united these deteriorations into one. Islam is not merely pagan, nor is it merely heretical, but both together, and hence it occupies an entirely peculiar place among the deteriorations of true theology, in which it now stands alone, simply because Manichæism, Gnosticism, etc., as religious societies, have passed away. On the other hand, Islam, as such, is allied to those theological representations that have become current again, especially since the beginning of this century, and which have embroidered the flowers of Christian revelations upon the tapestry of a radically pagan philosophy. With this difference, however, that these philosophic deteriorations have not established religious communions, but have invaded the Church of Christ.

§ 63. Falsifications of the Conception of Theology

The falsifications of Theology as science bear an entirely different character. By these we do not refer to the heretical divergencies, such as Protestants assert of Romanism, and Rome in turn affirms of Protestantism. With every heretical divergence both sides occupy the same point of view as to natural theology; from both sides it is confessed that their theology is derived from special Revelation; and the difference arises only from the diverging views of this special Revelation. In speculative and empiric theology, on the other hand, one is met by a falsification, which, from principle, denies all special Revelation, and thus in reality takes counsel with natural theology. Both forfeit thereby the right to the name of theology, because in this way speculative theology really ends in Philosophy, and empiric theology disappears in Naturalism. Natural Theology can exhibit itself as a regnant power only when human nature receives the beams of its light in their purity and reflects them equally completely. At present, however, the glass has been impaired by a hundred cracks, and the receiving and reflecting have become unequal, and the image that was to reflect itself is hindered in its clear reflection and thereby rendered untrue. And for this reason you cannot depend upon natural theology as it works in fallen man; and its imperfect lines and forms bring you, through the broken image, in touch with the reality of the infinite, only when an accidens enables you to recover this defective ideal for yourself, and natural theology receives this accidens only in special revelation. Speculative and empiric theology are correct, therefore, in their reaction against methodistic superficiality, which actually annuls natural theology, and accepts special revelation by faith as something entirely independent by itself. While, on the contrary, it is only by the natural knowledge of God, by the semen religionis, that a special revelation is possible for us, that our consciousness can unite itself to it, and that certainty can be born of its reality in our sense. Yea, to speak still stronger, we may say that special theology is merely temporal, and natural theology eternal. This is not stated more boldly than the Scriptures justify, when they explain the mutual relation between the special priesthood of the Aaronic ceremonial and the natural priesthood of Melchizedek. Melchizedek appears as one standing entirely outside of the special revelation; he is a priest-king, who has natural theology only, together with a weakened tradition of the once blessed paradise. Aaron, therefore, on whom shone the full light of special revelation, stands far above him in knowledge of God, in loftiness of religion, and in purity of priestly ritual. With a little less thought one would have been tempted to place Aaron’s priesthood far above that of Melchizedek, in order to find the ideal high-priesthood of Christ in Aaron, and not in the order of Melchizedek. And yet revelation, in both Old and New Testaments, teaches the very contrary. Aaron’s ceremonial bears merely a temporal character; Melchizedek’s office is eternal; and Aaron disappears in Christ, in order that in Christ Melchizedek may reappear. Thus Aaron’s service merely fulfilled the vocation of rendering the service of Melchizedek possible again, and enabling it to resume its original significance. And this is the point of view which dominates also the relation between “natural theology” and “particular grace.” Undoubtedly the content of special revelation is much richer than the meagre content which natural theology now offers fallen man; and it is also evident that without its accidens in special revelation this natural theology is no help to you whatever. Aaron’s service was much richer than that of Melchizedek, and without the Aaronic ordination Melchizedek’s offering missed every atoning merit. But this does not take away the fact, that natural theology always remains the originally real one, and that special revelation can never be anything else than accidental. Hence, when it comes to a state of purity, when sin shall have been eradicated so that its very memory shall no longer work its after-effects in the creation of God, then all the riches of special revelation shall merely have served the end of bringing natural theology back again to its original lustre, yea, of causing it to glow with a brightness which far excels its original lustre. In the prophetic domain of the knowledge of God, also, Aaron disappears, and Melchizedek returns with all the glory of the original creation. This is the deep significance of the oath sworn by the Lord in Psalm cx., concerning the priest after the order of Melchizedek. Jesus Himself spoke of a future in which His disciples would no more ask Him anything, because the Father Himself loved them. And in the perspective of 1 Cor. xv., when God shall be “all in all,” the entire special revelation has receded; the object for which it was given has been obtained; and with reference also to the knowledge of God, the “all in all” expresses nothing else than what once existed in paradise.

Though this deeper truth was not recognized by Schleiermacher, the spiritual father of subjective empiricism, and by Hegel, the master thinker, who founded the school of recent speculative theology, they perceived it, nevertheless, sufficiently clearly to vindicate the primordial authority of natural theology. Calvin saw deeper than both, when he compared ectypal theology, as thanks to common grace it still exists in and for the sinner, to a book the writing of which had become blurred, so that it could only be deciphered with a glass, i.e. with the help of special revelation. In this figure the thought lies expressed, that the theology which reflects itself as such in our nature, is ever the real theology, which, however, must be augmented and be explained, and which without this assistance remains illegible; but which, even during and after this help, always remains the true divine writing. So also it is foretold in prophecy, when Jeremiah declared that there was a time coming in which the outward special revelation would be ended, and every one would bear again in his heart the divine writing, and all should know the Lord from the least unto the oldest. This, too, is only the representation that the outward special revelation merely serves for a time, and that it has no other tendency than to lift natural theology from its degeneracy. Natural theology is and always will be the natural pair of legs on which we must walk, while special revelation is the pair of crutches, which render help, as long as the weakened or broken legs refuse us their service. This indeed can be frankly acknowledged, even though it is certain, that as long as our legs cannot carry us we can only walk by means of the crutches, so that during this abnormal condition our legs do not enable us to walk truly in the ways of the Lord, but only our crutches, i.e. not natural theology, but only special revelation. This last point has been less denied than entirely abolished by Schleiermacher, as well as by Hegel, and in so far we deny that the subjective-empiric and the speculative schools, which they called into life, are able to offer us any real and actual theology. But this does not destroy the fact that the motive which impelled them contained an inward truth. After the Reformation orthodoxy withdrew itself all too quickly from general human life. It became too greatly an isolated phenomenon, which, however beautiful in itself, was too much disconnected; and when it undertook to distil a kind of compendium from the so-called natural theology, and in all its poverty to place this by the side of the rich display of special revelation, it belittled this natural theology to such an extent, that rationalism could not fail of its opportunity to show itself and to administer reproof; while orthodoxy, removed from its basis, was bound to turn into inwardly thin supranaturalism with its external supports. Thus there was no longer a scientific theology worthy of the name. All that remained was, on the one hand, a mysticism without clearness, and on the other hand a barren framework of propositions and facts, without the glow of life or of reality. This was observed with great sharpness of vision by Schleiermacher, as well as by Hegel, and both endeavored to find again, in the reality of life, a δός μοι ποῦ στῶ (starting-point) for religion, and thus also for theology. They did this each in his own way: Schleiermacher by withdrawing himself into human nature, as religious and social in character; and Hegel, on the other hand, by extending the world of human thought so broadly, that theology also found a place in it. From subjectivity, i.e. from mysticism, Schleiermacher came to theological thought, Hegel, from the thought of man, hence from intellectualism, to religion. Thus together they grasped natural reality by the two handles which this reality presents for religion. Natural theology includes two elements: first, ectypal knowledge of God as founded in the human consciousness, and secondly, the pistic capacity of man to grasp this ectypal knowledge with his inner consciousness. Hegel made the ectypal knowledge of God to appear in the foreground of human consciousness; Schleiermacher, on the other hand, started out from the pistic capacity increated in the inner nature of man. Hence it is not surprising in the least, that both formed a school of their own, and that only by their initiative theology revived again as a science. They indeed abandoned the isolation to which theology had fled. Each in his way restored religion and theology to a proper place of honor in human life and in the world of thought. By their work the “unheimisch” feeling of confusion in the face of reality was taken away from the theologian; he had again a standing. The thirst after reality could again be quenched. And that even orthodox theologians, whose earnest effort it was to maintain by far the greater part of the content of special revelation, sought refuge in the two schools need not surprise us, for the reason that the strength of each lay not so much in their positive data, as in their formal view, which to a certain extent was also adapted, if needs be, to cover an orthodox cargo. With respect to this formal part, Schleiermacher and Hegel even supplemented each other. If in Schleiermacher’s subjective school theology was threatened to be sacrificed to religion, and in Hegel’s speculative tendency to be glorified as the sole substance of religion, it was evident that those who were more seriously minded foresaw the future of theology in the synthesis of both elements. There were two sides to natural theology, and only in the combination of Schleiermacher and Hegel could natural theology again obtain a hearing in its entirety.

But this whole effort has ended in nothing but bitter disappointment. Not, as already said, as though in these two schools men began at once to cast the content of the special revelation overboard. On the contrary, Schleiermacher and Hegel both did not rest content with the meagre data of natural theology, but made it a point of honor to demand the exalted view-point of the Christian religion for its own sake, and, so far as they were able, to vindicate it. What good was this, however, when they were bent on explaining, at any cost, this ideal view-point of the Christian religion from the normal data? They no doubt acknowledged the considerable interval between this ideal religion and the imperfect religious expression outside of the Christian domain, but they refused to attribute this to the supernatural, and thus to what seemed to them the abnormal action of the living God. The interval between the highest and the lowest was not to be taken any longer as an antithesis, but was to be changed into a process, by which gradually the highest sprang from the lowest. Thus each in his way found the magic formula of the process. From Theism they glided off into Pantheism. For thus only was it possible to maintain the high honor of the Christian religion, and at the same time to place this exalted religion in organic relation to the reality of our human existence. And this was the thing that avenged itself. For from the meagre data of natural theology they were not able to operate along straight lines, and thus even these fundamental data were falsified. This became especially apparent in the school of Hegel, when in their way his younger followers tried to systematize religion, and soon rendered it evident that, instead of vindication, the result, which in this school they reached by strict consequence, was the entire undermining of historic Christianity and of all positive religious data. What Hegel thought he had found was not religion, but philosophic theology, and this theology was no true “knowledge of God,” but a general human sense, in which the immanent Spirit (der immanente Geist) gradually received knowledge of himself. This did not find archetypal knowledge in God, but in man, and ectypal knowledge in the incomprehensible God. Hence it was the perversion of all Theology, and the inversion of the conception of religion itself, and both dissolved in a philosophic system.

Though at first the subjective-empiric school of Schleiermacher appeared less dangerous, and though it did not lead to those repulsive consequences in which the young Hegelians lost themselves, yet even this did not escape its Nemesis, and with fatal necessity tends more and more to Naturalism. It did not come to religion from the sphere of thought, but sought its connecting point in human nature. Man, not as individual, but taken as an integral part of the organism of humanity, presented himself as a subject with certain emotions and perceptions, and bearing a religious character; from these perceptions and emotions, by virtue of the “social instinct” (Sociale Trieb), which is peculiar to man as an organic being, sprang a certain desire after religious communion (Verein); and since man inclines to take up his emotions and perceptions into his consciousness, there was gradually born of this selfsame subjective mysticism a world of religious representations. Only with these ethical premises at his disposal, does Schleiermacher come to the phenomenon of the Christian Church, which, both by way of comparison and in principle, seems to satisfy the highest aspirations these premises inspire. Faithful to his naturalistic interpretation he concedes that it is the vocation of the Church to remain the leader of this ethic-social process in humanity. This requires elucidation of insight. And so he arrives at an interpretation of theology which is nothing but an aggregate of disparate sciences, which find their bond of union ad hoc in the phenomenon of the Church.

We readily grant that Schleiermacher did not mean this naturalistically. His purpose was to save the ideal life of humanity. But we maintain, that this whole interpretation sprang from the naturalistic root, and is chargeable with the naturalistic tendency, which became more strongly evident in his followers. Of the three data which he deals with,—human nature, God and thought,—he takes human nature alone to be autonomic. All that he teaches of God, is not merely bound in its form of expression to the data of our nature, but the content also is the mere reflection of subjective perceptions; man is and remains the subject, that is, thinks and speaks, and in his presence God obtains no autonomic position. The reality even of the existence of God appears to the very end to be dependent upon the reality which vindicates itself in the subject man. The same is true with reference to the factor of thought. With Schleiermacher, thought is the result of being, not in the absolute sense, but of being in man and of that which springs from this being of man. Actually, therefore, human nature alone and its phenomena are real for Schleiermacher; from this nature only you come to God as to its projection; and thought exercises so little independent power, that the unconscious senses, feelings and perceptions not only govern our entire thought, but even repress it, and already prepare the primacy of the will of later date. With this, however, Schleiermacher as a theologian had passed the handle entirely out of his hands. It is self-evident, that the autonomic study of human nature held the mastery also over the future of theology. If that physiological and psychological study should lead to materialistic results, the whole of Schleiermacher’s religion would fall away. Or, where the result was less disappointing, yet so far as the method is concerned, the physiological factor was bound to dominate entirely the psychological factor, and this would also include everything that relates to religion under the power of the naturalistic view. In this wise the Christian religion was bound to be reduced to the product of all preceding religious development; that preceding religious development could at length be nothing more than the necessary development of a psychological peculiarity; that psychological peculiarity, in turn, must be the result of the fundamental data in our human nature; that human nature could be nothing else than the product of the unbroken development of organic nature; that organic nature could not differ essentially from the inorganic nature; so that finally, everything that is high and holy in the Christian domain has been brought under the power of the evolution theory, and the theologian has to be informed by the naturalist where to look for the origin of the object of his science.

Thus, in both schools, everything that had so far been known by the name of theology was in principle destroyed. There were no longer two, God and man, the former of whom has imparted knowledge of Himself to the latter; there was, in fact, nothing else but man, in whom alone, according to the speculative school, “the Ever-Immanent Spirit” (der ewigimmanente Geist) came to consciousness of himself; and who according to the subjective-empiric school, experienced subjective perceptions, from which he formed for himself subjective representations of a religious character. Neither in one school nor in the other was there any more question of an extrahuman God, nor room for a theology which should be able to introduce actual knowledge of that God into the general human consciousness. The abandonment of the name Theology, and the substitution in its room of the name of Science of Religion, was nothing but the honest consequence of the fundamentally atheistic point of view which was held. Is atheistic too strong a word in this connection? It is, when by atheism we understand the denial of the spirit and perceptions of the infinite; but not, when we interpret it as the refusal longer to recognize the living God, who has made Himself known to us as God. Though both schools held to the name of God, they both afterward denied that we have the right to reckon with the reality of the living God, as a personal, self-conscious Being, who from that self-consciousness reveals Himself to us. And from that time on, the object that engaged the investigator in this domain was no longer the reality God, but religion. With reference to the eternal Being everything had become problematic; the religious phenomenon was the only certain thing. There revealed itself in human nature and in history a mighty factor, which was known by the name of religion. It was possible to trace and to study the historic and ethnologic development of this factor; psychologically, also, an explanation of this religious phenomenon could be sought; and in this perhaps at length sufficient ground could be found to assume a general agent as cause of this phenomenon; but no venture could be made outside of this phenomenal circle. The νοούμενον remained problematic.

That nevertheless most students shrank from the immediate adoption of this radical transition, had a threefold cause,—the historic form of our theological faculties, the existence of the Christian Church, and the exalted character of the Christian religion. By far the larger number of theologians of name do not reach their destination except in the theological faculty. That faculty, as an historic institute, is bound to the theological name, and more particularly still to Christian Theology. The revolution which has taken place on theologic ground must of necessity either modernize these faculties entirely, or perhaps occasion their disappearance, and the transfer of their chairs to other faculties. But this is not done at once. Every academic institute is conservative. And since one cannot wait for this, and meanwhile is not willing to abandon the influence of the chair, one adapts himself to the inevitable, and continues to call himself a theologian, and to speak of theological study, even though in the main he has broken with theology, in the historically valid sense of the word. The second reason, why the name of theology has been maintained, lies in the Christian Church. For her sake the Ministers of the Word must be educated. If it were not for her, there would be no question after pupils for this faculty. Dilettant theologians are becoming ever more scarce. And thus one had still to adapt himself to practical needs in these departments. From a scientific point of view the study of other religions might promise richer harvests; but almost no one would frequent the lecture-rooms where exegetical readings were given from the holy books of other religions. And thus the scientific standard had to be abandoned, and for the sake of practical needs the old theological tracks are still continued. This is indeed an unenviable position, in which self-respect is regained in part only by the consideration of the third cause mentioned above, that is, the relative excellency of the Christian religion. Even when, after the fashion of botanists, we treat religion as a flora of poorer and richer types, it is but natural that fuller study should be devoted to the religious plant of higher development; and, as such, homage is paid to the Christian religion. Not generally any longer as the highest, for Buddhism, and even Islam, are placed by its side; and much less as the highest conceivable, for in ethics Christ is thought to be far excelled, and it is maintained that further development is not at all impossible. But in general the Christian religion still counts as one of the higher developments; especially as that development, which is of greatest interest to us historically, and which, so far as the lower classes of people are concerned, is even yet the only one that claims our general notice. And thus it comes to pass, that this faculty is still called theological, and is still regulated with a view to the training of Ministers of the Word for the Christian Church, and, though the other religions are reviewed, the Christian religion is still the main study pursued. This is done, in antagonism with principle, for the sake of secondary considerations; and it is for this reason that the ancient name of Theology is still borne, though now as a misnomer, and that the only fitting name for what is really meant, that of “science of Religion” (Religionwissenschaft), remains still banished from the official curriculum.

In order to restore harmony to a certain extent between name and matter, it has been tried in more or less conservative circles, to define Theology as “the science of the Christian religion”; which, however much better it may sound than Schleiermacher’s prudish and unnatural definition, is nevertheless equally unable to stand the test of criticism. Is there likewise a science of English history? Of French philosophy? Of Greek art? Of course not. The science of history devotes a chapter to England’s national past; the history of philosophy devotes a separate investigation to that which has been pondered and reflected upon by French thinkers; and the history of æsthetics engages itself especially with Greek art; but no one will undertake to represent these parts of a broader object as a proper object for an independent science. Hence, in the religious domain also, there is no separate science of Parseeism, of Buddhism, of Israelitism, of Christianity, or of Islam. He who takes one of these phenomena as such as object of investigation, may not take it outside of its relation to correlated phenomena, and can take no stand except in a science which embraces these correlated phenomena as a whole. It is unscientific, therefore, to speak of a “science of the Christian religion.” If I confess a Revelation, which has no correlates and which is a phenomenon of an entirely singular kind, it may well be the object of an independent science. But if one views the Christian religion as one of several religions, even though it is comparatively the highest of all religious developments known to us, he is as unable to create an independent science of the Christian religion as the botanist is to speak of a special science of the cedar. If, on the other hand, with other more or less orthodox theologians, we assert that the Christian religion is distinguished from all other religious phenomena by a special specific revelation, its distinguishing element is not in the religion, but in the revelation of Christianity, and hence this revelation must be the object of this science.

This was felt by Hodge, the champion of scientific orthodoxy in America, and therefore he tried to escape from the dilemma by choosing the facts of the Bible as the object of his theology. His intention was good, for in the main he was correct in saying that the Holy Scriptures offer us no scientific theology, but contain the facts and truths, “which theology has to collect, authenticate, arrange and exhibit in their internal relation to each other” (Syst. Theology, I., p. 1). And yet we may not rest content even with Hodge’s definition. For in this way the conception of “ectypal Theology” is lost, and from all sorts of facts we are to conclude what must follow from them with respect to the Being of God. His combination of “facts and truths” overthrows his own system. He declares that the theologian must authenticate these truths. But then, of course, they are no truths, and only become such, when I authenticate them. His idea was, of course, to save theology as a positive science, and to do this in a better way than they who took the “Christian religion” as the given object; but it can scarcely be denied that he succumbed to the temptation of placing Theology formally in a line with the other sciences. All the other sciences have the data of nature and of history for their object, and Theology, in like manner, has the data of this supernatural history. There were two spheres, two worlds, which have become object of a proper science each. That the distinction between God as creator and all the rest as His creature draws the deep boundary-line between theology and all other science, could not be established in this way. The authentication of his “facts” brought him logically back again under the power of naturalistic science. And though as a man of faith he bravely resisted this, his demonstration lacked logical necessity.

Our result is that, though still called by the name of theology, the entire subsequent development of theological study has actually substituted an utterly different object, has cut the historic tie that binds it to original theology, and has accomplished little else than the union of the subdivisions of psychology and of historic ethnology into a new department of science, which does not lead to the knowledge of God, but aims at the knowledge of religion as a phenomenon in the life of humanity. Along this way also the return was made to natural theology, and whatever was still valid as “Christian revelation” was cited to legitimatize itself before the tribunal of natural theology. The harmony between the results of these modern investigations, and those derived in former ages from natural theology in India and elsewhere, could therefore arouse no surprise in the least. This only should be added, that the exchange of theologia naturalis for religio naturalis accounts for the loss with us of what the Vedanta still maintains, viz. the divine reality, which corresponds to the impressions and perceptions of the religiously disposed mind.

§ 64. Deformations of Theology

If the effort to obtain Divine knowledge from natural theology, without the help of special revelation, was bound, after the fall, to effect the entire deterioration of the knowledge of God; and if, on the other hand, the effort to substitute religion as object of investigation for the “knowledge of God” was bound to falsify the conception of theology; the evil worked within the theological domain by what we call its deformations, the results of schism and heresy, is of an entirely different character. The difference is still clearly evident between what is called Protestant, Romish and Greek or Eastern Theology; and though on Protestant ground the antithesis between the Lutheran and Reformed type of doctrine is less significant than before, it is self-deception to suppose that it has become extinct; while, on the other hand also, the variegations of the mystic-apocalyptic and the pietistic-methodistic mode of teaching still maintain themselves in ever wider Protestant circles. The illusion that the former confessional differences have had their day, in order gradually to make room for a general Protestant sense, scarcely held itself intact for a quarter of a century. It was evident all too soon, that this indifference to confessional standards sprang from an unhistoric tendency and was fed by an exceedingly serious hypertrophy of the philosophic element. Almost everywhere, therefore, we see the revival of confessional standards in theology, the moment it escapes from the arms of philosophy, and, for the sake of defending its position, is bent upon the recovery of its independence. This, however, makes it necessary, just as our fathers did before us, to deal with the deformations of Theology.

This conception of deformation excludes, on our side, two untenable points of view: first, the sceptical, which attributes no higher worth to Protestant Theology than to the Romish or Eastern, and evermore tends to place these in a line; and secondly, the absolute, which counts out every other theology but its own as worthless, and frankly declares them to have originated with the Evil One.

The sceptical point of view falls short in faith, decision and courage of conviction. Here, in reality, one takes truth as something that lies beyond human reach; hence one’s own confession also is valued no higher than as an effort to express truth, which from the nature of the case has met with ill success. One feels his way in the dark, and hence must readily concede others the right of doing the same. Their confession and yours contain equally little or much of worth, just as you please. They are variations of the same theme. Each of these variations enrich and complement, and you stand personally higher, just in proportion as being less narrow in the attachment to your own confession, you have an open eye and ear to rejoice in all expressions of life. This is not meant to be taken eclectically, for since you have no favorite flower, you gather no bouquet from the several confessions, but simply walk among the several flower-beds to enjoy whatever is beautiful in this confessional garden. All this lacks seriousness of purpose. From this view-point every form of confession becomes an article of luxury. Confessional life aims no longer at truth, but serves as a kind of poetry. In the life of his emotions one experiences certain pious perceptions; one also seeks a certain mystical communion with the hidden world of the infinite; and in so far as one accepts the reality of that world, he is seriously minded; but he has no faith in what he himself expresses or in what he hears others say concerning it. It does not become us, it is said, to do anything but stammer. No significance, therefore, should be attached to the sounds, forms, or words which we speak, as though these expressed the higher reality. At most these sounds have the worth of a musical character. They give utterance to our better feelings, and presently aid to revive them again. But for this very reason, the song which another sings from his heart is equally beautiful. There is no more truth to be confessed. All that remains is a pious, æsthetic enjoyment of what has been stammered by man in all manner of ways concerning the truth. A Calvinistic prayer, which drinks in encouragement for higher life from the fountain of eternal election, impresses, from this point of view, equally strongly as the Ave verum corpus of the Romish worshipper, as he kneels before the uplifted host.

This sceptical point of view, therefore, should not be confounded with the mystical antithesis, which opposes all dogma, all confessions and also all special revelation. This mystic antithesis springs from the tendency to let being triumph over consciousness, and, while it apparently antagonizes barren intellectualism, in reality it opposes every modification which by virtue of religion must be brought about in our world of thought. It is said that our so-called modern ethical tendency sets no store by conceptions; but from the nature of the case this is not so. No one can get along without thought; without a life with consciousness no human life is conceivable; every one goes out from certain general conceptions; and, voluntarily or otherwise, in those who live in higher spheres those general conceptions form a system, i.e. they stand in a certain relation to each other. As an actual fact, therefore, the conflict against “barren intellectualism” banishes all influence of revelation or even of religion from the development of our world of thought; while eventually the world of thought, which from natural reason has become common property, is permitted to assert itself as unassailable and self-evident. With these men it is ever the old conflict between the primacy of the consciousness and of the will, while our entire higher life is subsumed by them under the will. With the deformations of theology, however, we need not take this into account; since all such efforts end in an entire falsification of the conception of theology, and as such belong to our former paragraph. The sceptics, on the other hand, whom we here speak of, occupy the selfsame view-point with us of special revelation; with us they feel the need of holding dogma in honor, and readily agree that no church can get along without confessional standards; only, to all these confessions together they attribute nothing but a relative value. The truth is not contained in one confession, nor in all the confessions taken together; to push propaganda, therefore, of one confession above another is entirely void of motive. Going from one church to another, except for the sake of marriage or of national interests, has no significance. And the poor martyrs who faced death for the sake of their convictions, died like naive victims of a confessional mistake.

If thus in this confessional scepticism the energy of conviction is wanting, the confessional absolutists, on the other hand, sin through the excess of conviction, when they anathematize everything that falls outside of their own confession. This ground was not held by the Reformers and the learned divines who theologically expounded the confession of the Reformers. Even Calvin is clearly conscious that he builds on the theology of Augustine and Thomas Aquinas; and he who reads the original Lutheran and Reformed dogmatists, perceives at once that they make constant use of what has been contributed by Romish theologians. But in the subsequent period this usage has become extinct. Every church withdraws itself within its own walls; and finally it seems that there is no theology for the dogmatist, but that which rests upon his own confession. Hence, not only in the case of every antithesis, is one equally firm in cleaving to his own conviction, and in rejecting whatever opposes it; but also every suggestion is banished that, at least in that which is not antithetic, some theologic depth, development and truth may lodge with the opponent. The Romish theologians carry this confessional absolutism to the farthest extreme. With the Lutheran theologians this absolutism is quickly carried into practice, even at the expense of Reformed theology. The Reformed theologians alone have longest reacted against this confessional absolutism. If the confessional sceptic knows little besides irenics, and if in his eyes all controversy is folly, the absolutist, on the other hand, is averse to all irenics, and controversy or polemics is his only point of contact with the confessions of the other churches, which he considers simply false.

But it is readily seen that neither this sceptical nor this absolutist point of view is in harmony with the claim of theology. Not the sceptical, for if theology is “the knowledge of God,” and if, consequently, theology as a science can have no other object than to introduce that revealed knowledge of God as clearly as possible into our human consciousness, personal conviction must ever be the starting-point of all theology. Taken generically, theology is, and always will be, knowledge, and for this reason there can be no theology where the conviction that one knows is wanting. Confessional indifferentism is in irreconcilable conflict with this, for many things may lie in the farthest circumference of each one’s conviction which are not attached to his personal consciousness; but these do not belong to our confession. But that which one confesses, one must mean; of this we must be certain; if necessary, the greatest sacrifice must be made for this; if needs be, the sacrifice of life. That now this confessional conviction in the Lutheran Church is different from that in the Eastern, and in the Reformed than in the Church of Rome, certainly does not depend upon our personal preference. This difference is connected, rather, with our position in life and genealogy. No objection should ever be raised on that account, however, against the reality of our conviction, since the entire world of our representations, those of the non-religious kind also, are determined by the circle from which we spring and the age in which we live; the Pelagian only may encounter some difficulty here, because he does not believe in a divine plan, which determines our whole position; but, for the rest, no conviction ever strikes deeper root than when it has been prepared atavistically in us. He, therefore, who has in this way obtained his conviction as one with his life, does not ascribe its possession to his own excellencies, but renders thanks for it to the grace of God. A true theologian, therefore, will and must hold for real and true the theology which he embraces, and to the further development of which he devotes his life, and should not hesitate to consider all other theology to be deformation. A Lutheran theologian, who is not firmly convinced of the truth of his own confession and who has no courage to denounce all theology which is opposed to it as deformation, has lost his way. The same is true of the Romish theologian. And we as Reformed theologians stand equally firm in our unshakable conviction that the track, along which we move, runs the most accurately, and that every other track leads to lesser or greater deformation.

But though from his own point of view no single theologian should shrink from this qualification of deformation, this conception of deformation contains, on the other hand, an element of appreciation, and therefore a sentence against confessional absolutism. Deformation passes judgment on the imperfection of the form, but honors the essence. Whether this deformation is the outcome of schism, and consequent onesidedness, by the contraction of the energy of truth at one single point; or whether it has found its origin in heresy, i.e. in the adoption into one’s confession of elements. that are foreign to the truth, can make no difference. In either case you acknowledge that there is a “knowledge of God,” and that that which calls itself theology is truly possessed of the theologic character. It is still commonly accepted in the confessions that there is an ectypal knowledge of God, that in the natural way this cannot lead the sinner to saving results, and that there is a special revelation to supply this want. The canonical books also of the Old and New Testaments are honored by all these churches together as the Divine documentation of this revelation. Difference only begins with the addition to these Scriptures of the apocrypha, of tradition, of papal inspiration, of the mystic inspiration by the internal light (lumen internum), etc. Thus from either side we are abundantly able to show how the deformation originated with the other; and this is the point of attack; yet this does not destroy what is common in all confessions and theologies.

And if this opens the way to the appreciation and use of what has been prepared also by theologians of other confessions, in what is common to us all, it leads at the same time to still another consideration. Even Rome does not deny that charismata are also at work outside of her church; and where in this way even Rome maintains a unity, our Protestant principle includes the open recognition of the correlation of the other churches with ours. No single confessional group claims to be all the church. We rather confess that the unity of the body of Christ extends far beyond our confessional boundaries. The theological gifts that operate outside of our circle may supply what we lack, and self-sufficient narrow-mindedness alone will refuse such benefit. With us irenics go ever hand in hand with polemics. Firmly and unshakably we stand in our confession, that the track along which we move is the most accurate known to us, and in virtue of this conviction we do not hesitate a moment to mark the divergence of the tracks of others as deformation. Against all such deformity we direct our polemics. But we are equally conscious of the fact that we alone do not constitute the Church of Christ in the earth; that there is a conviction of truth which operates also outside of our circle; and that in despite of all such deformation divine gifts continue to foster a theologic life worthy of the name. Hence our irenics.

To us, therefore, there is no theology as such, which, exalting itself above all special theologies, is the theology in the absolute sense. Such a theology would effect at once a new confession and call into life a new church organization; simply because one can hold no different conviction as theologian than as church member. But this would reverse the order of things. The Church does not spring from theology, but theology has its rise in the life of the Church. And if the objection is raised, that in this way theology is robbed of its character of universal validity and thus becomes unscientific, we answer: (1) that for universal validity the acceptance of all individuals is not demanded, but only of those who are receptive to the truth of a matter and are well informed of it; (2) that every convinced theologian in the presence of his opponent also appeals from the mind that has been ill-informed (male informatum) to the mind that is to be better informed (melius informandum). The fact that unity of conviction, which is fairly common with the material sciences and rare with the spiritual sciences, is altogether wanting with the highest, viz. theology, is no plea against theology, since it merely shows that, as it touches that which is most tender, it of necessity stands highest, and consequently has most to endure from the ruin worked by sin in our spiritual life.

On this ground we maintain the confessional character of theology, since otherwise either the unity of our theological thinking is lost, or the integrity of our theological conviction. To us who are members of the Reformed Churches the more exactly defined object of theology is, the knowledge of God, as given in the Reformed or purified confession.

§ 65. The Relation of Theology to its Object

Thus far the course of thought has run smoothly. Knowledge of God is the crown of all that can be known. Knowledge of God is inconceivable, except it is imparted to us by God Himself. This knowledge, given us by nature in our creation, has been veiled from and darkened in us by the results of sin. Consequently it now comes to us in the form of a special revelation, and we have received the divine illumination, by which we can assimilate the content of that revelation. And science is called in, to introduce this knowledge of God, thus revealed, into our human thought. Just here, however, a very serious misinterpretation is possible, which must needs be prevented. It can be represented that it is only science that places the revealed knowledge of God within the reach of the pious. In which case it is science that investigates the special revelation; the results of this investigation are gradually more fully established; that which is established is brought to the knowledge of all; and thus the knowledge of God is made universal. This entirely intellectualistic way excludes, meanwhile, the spiritual experience of the Church in its entirety, as well as of individual believers. Taken in this way, scientifically theological study must have preceded all faith, and the knowledge of God would only have come within our reach after theology had as good as finished its task. This, however, is inconceivable, since theology is born of the Church, and not the Church of theology. Reflection does not create life, but suo jure life is first, after which reflection speaks its word concerning it. And thus spiritual life became manifest in the Church of Christ, and as the result of Revelation practical spiritual knowledge of God had been the rich possession of thousands upon thousands, long before the idea of a scientific theology was suggested. It cannot even be said that scientific theology presented the forms of thought which led to the formulations of dogma. Those formulations were much more the product of the conflict for truth which took place in the life of the Church, and therefore they have borne much more an ecclesiastical than a scientific character. The knowledge of God, held by the Church, did not remain naively mystical, until science analyzed this mysticism. But sharp and clear thinking was done in the Church as such, long before the science of theology as such had won a place for itself. The Church has not lived unconsciously, but consciously, and so far as the personal life of believers is concerned, no urgency for a closer scientific explanation has ever been observed. Much less can it be said that scientific theology is called to add more certainty to the confession of the Church and to demonstrate its truth. The desire to have theology perform this service, so entirely foreign to it, has not originated in times of spiritual prosperity and healthful activity of faith, but was always the bitter fruit of the weakening of faith, and consequently was ever incapable of checking the decline of the life of the Church. The Church that has leaned on theology, instead of presenting its arm to theology for its support, has always lost the remnant of higher courage which reminded it of better days, and has always degraded itself to a dependency upon the school. No, the need of scientific theology does not spring from the need of the soul, but always finds its motive in our human thought. There is a world of thought which binds man to man, and which, notwithstanding the change of individuals, passes on from generation to generation. Only a few, however, live in that world of thought with such clear consciousness as to feel themselves at home there. But they also who do not enter in so deeply, derive general representations from this world of thought which are the common property of all and thereby render the mutual correspondence among minds possible. And this world of thought cannot resist the impulse to take all things up into itself, and therefore also this knowledge of God; and of this impulse theology as a science is born. This seems to be otherwise, when we observe that the practical purpose of the first theological studies was to defend themselves apologetically, or to train preachers for the Church; but appearance must not mislead us. The actual need, expressed in these attempts, was to seek a point of support for one’s propaganda in the world of thought that was common to Jews and heathen. It was soon learned that with one’s preaching pure and simple no gains were made. Hence the need was felt of something of a more transparent character, to supply which the content of the faith was gradually interpreted in the language of our thinking consciousness. In proportion as the significance of this effort after clearer consciousness was more sharply seen, the sense also gradually awakened of a vocation, which, independent of necessity and defence, should cause the content of the revealed knowledge of God to shine likewise in this world of thought. By obedience to this, that content was not brought closer to our heart, but was presented with more clearness to our consciousness. The distance was lessened between our general conceptions and the content of that revelation. The confession of that content became more transparent and accurate, and though this scientific theology was unable to add one grain to the content of this knowledge of God, it has unquestionably heightened the pleasure of our possession. The Church, therefore, has not hesitated to profit by it; and though there is no single pearl in her confession which she owes theology as such, since all her pearls are gathered from the depths of spiritual life, it is equally certain that she would not have been able to string these pearls so beautifully in her confession, had not the light of theology illumined her spiritual labor. From clearer consciousness to go back to mystic darkness, is obscurantism; and since theology has also made the scientific torch to burn, no church that wants to avoid being wilfully “blind” can afford to act as though this torch had never been lighted, but must duly take it into account. In this wise, moreover, theological science is no abstraction. On the contrary, it springs of necessity from the life of the Church, upon which it exerts an influence in all the stages of its development. What we protest against is, that theology should be thought to exist merely for the sake of rendering this auxiliary service, and that the Church by itself should be considered not to be able to do without it. Spiritually the Church has prospered long centuries without it, and in so far can never be dependent on it. But on the other hand, again, theology should not be explained from utility. That it did originate, is accounted for by the nobility of our human thought, which cannot rest, so long as there is still a single domain within reach which it has not annexed to itself. Thinking man, converted to God, has felt himself called to cause the honor of God’s truth to shine also in the world of our representations and conceptions. If that which God causes us to perceive of Himself were limited to a mystic esthesia, we might philosophize about this phenomenon, but we would never be able to analyze this perception theologically. Since, however, at sundry times and in divers manners God has spoken unto the fathers, and thus light upon God has arisen in our consciousness, that revelation itself has impelled a scientific investigation, and Christendom would have done violence to the impulse of its consciousness if it had lived without theology.

Theology, therefore, like every other science, aims at as complete and accurate a knowledge of its object as possible. It too is born from the thirst after insight and clearness, and cannot rest so long as there is still a possibility of making the insight into its object more clear. Theology should not be denied this ideal character of all science, and therefore its motive should ever be sought in knowing God, and not in knowing religion or Christianity. Religion and Christendom by themselves are excellent and important subjects, but as such they do not cover a necessary department in our consciousness. But this is entirely different with respect to the Eternal Being. In every human consciousness of higher development, or at least in the general consciousness of humanity, there is a vacant space, which can only be filled by the knowledge of the Eternal One. If, therefore, as was shown above, theology is to find its object only in the revealed, ectypal knowledge of God, this should never be taken in the sense of scholastic learning. The motive for all theology is and ever will be the knowledge of the Eternal Being, not now in the interest of the needs of our heart, and not, as a rule, for the practical purposes of life, but solely in the interest of the world of our thought. More than this it cannot give. As a science, it is and always will be intellectual work, and can never be anything else. Only as far as the revealed knowledge of God has a logical content, is theology able to master it. Outside of the domain of our thinking it is powerless; but when the matter concerns this thinking, it is indisputably the province of theology to do it.

But if in this way we concentrate its calling upon the critical examination of the self-revelation of the Eternal Being to us sinners, we do not mean that it is merely to explain from this revelation what relates exclusively to God and to His Nature. It must be strictly theological, so that from the beginning to the end of its epic God Himself is the hero; but as was observed by the older theologians, one can treat of God both in the direct and oblique cases (de Deo in casu recto et obliquo). Not only, therefore, that which in revelation deals with the being of God, but also His attributes, activities, and creations, so far as these contribute to the knowledge of God, should be taken up in the investigation; nature, therefore, as well, and history, i.e. from the theological side; and man likewise, provided he is taken as created after the image of God, and thus interpreted theologically. And as knowledge of a powerful thinker is deemed incomplete for his biography, unless you include his ideas concerning the significance of man, the great problems of life, and the development which awaits us in the future, it is self-evident, that it belongs to the knowledge of God, to investigate what He declares concerning man, His relation to the children of men, and His counsel which shall stand. The emphasis, which we put upon theology, as theology, tends by no means to impoverish it; we take it that its content is thereby greatly enriched; we only claim that whatever shall belong to its content must be governed by one and the same leading thought, which leading thought is the knowledge of God. This provides at the same time a standard, as shall be shown later on, by which to bring perspective into the Scripture; provided we avoid the errors of distinguishing between Scripture and the Word of God, and of concentrating the significance of the Scripture upon the religious-ethical. The knowledge of God alone teaches you to distinguish between eminent, common, and less important interests in the Scripture. Only that which you have made your own theologically, you possess as part of revelation; while that which to your sense is not connected with the knowledge of the Eternal Being, lies still outside of it.

Even this, however, does not entirely determine the relation of theology to its object. All this concerns exclusively the content of Revelation, and does not yet reckon with the revealed knowledge of God as such. Thus far a dogmatic-ethical study might develop itself, but this would not provide room for a theology in the broader unfolding of all its departments of study. Only with the organic construction of theology as a scientific unity can it be shown more accurately of every department, in what relation it stands to the knowledge of God, and what place, therefore, belongs to such a department in the theologic unit. To this, then, we refer; but it is necessary here to indicate, in broad outline, from whence theology derives these many departments of study. It will not suffice to say, that they have appeared de facto, neither will it be enough to emphasize the significance of these departments as preparation for the preaching of the Word. To be capable of being scientifically interpreted, the unit of a science must spring from the root of its object, or, at least, its object must be its motive. This object here is: the revealed knowledge of God, or the theologia ectypa revelata. From this it follows, that we are not simply to deal with the content of this revelation, but also that this revelation as such must be investigated; that the activity must be traced, which has gone out from this revelation; and that the relation must be traced between revelation and our psychic data, in order to make action from our side possible with that revelation. He who is to make a scientific examination of a mineral spring, is not permitted to rest content with an analysis of its ferruginous quality, but is bound to inquire into the history of this spring, to watch the action of its waters, and to experiment as to how its content is best applied. Apply this to the revealed knowledge of God, and you perceive at once, that the theological science cannot deem its task completed, when it has analyzed the content of revelation, but the revelation itself and the action that went out from it, together with the method demanded by its application, must be studied in their relation to each other. With the strictest maintenance, therefore, of the theologic character of our science, nothing prevents a view of the relations of the several departments of study. For instance, what is church history but the broad narrative of the effects which the ectypal knowledge of God has exerted in the life of nations? Meanwhile we content ourselves with the simple indication of it here. This relation can only fully be explained in the closing sections of this volume.

§ 66. Sacred Theology

Before we enter upon the study of the principium of Theology, we insert here a brief explanation of the ancient epithet of Sacred before Theology. Not that we should insist on this title, or that to our idea this title implies any special merit, but because the purpose of its omission is the secularization of theology, and for this reason it has an essential significance as an effort to destroy the distinguishing character of theology. The habit of speaking of Sacred Theology has the indorsement of the ages. At the Reformation the churches found it in this form, and they felt themselves bound to reverence and maintain it. The first mention of the omission of this title appears, after the conflict had begun against a principium proprium for theology; and the dislike which the effort to restore this ancient title to theology creates in many people, is identical with the dislike which is shown by those same people for every representation of a special revelation. As the omission of Sancta was no accident, our effort is equally intentional, to renew the use of that name in our Reformed circles. By inserting Sancta before Theologia we desire it to be clearly understood, that we take no part in the secularization of Theology, but maintain that it has a sphere of its own.

The Church of Christ has borrowed from the Holy Scriptures this word sacred as a prefix to whatever stands in immediate relation to the special revelation. This prefix is constantly used in the Old, as well as in the New, Testament. The spot of ground at the burning bush is called holy ground, because there the holiness of the Lord revealed itself to Moses. The קָהָל in Israel, or the congregation of the people, is called holy. In Exod. xvi. 23 it speaks of “the holy sabbath unto the Lord.” The people itself is called an “holy people,” and its members are called “holy men” (Exod. xxii. 31). In a still more pregnant sense the altar is called “holy” and “whatsoever touches the altar” (Exod. xxix. 37), which refers to places and buildings, as well as to persons, their garments, tools and acts. Jerusalem itself is called the “holy city” (Neh. xi. 1). Holy, therefore, is the definite epithet not only for what is in heaven, with all the hosts of angels, but equally for that which on earth is chosen of God for His service. Thus the Psalmist speaks of “the saints that are in the earth.” “God’s faithfulness is in the assembly of the holy ones.” Thus the Proverbs speak of the knowledge the people of God received by higher light, as “the knowledge of the holy” (A. V. ix. 10 and xxx. 3); and, in short, without a closer study of the idea of קָדוֹשׁ, it may be said that in the Old Testament this title of “holy” is attached to everything that transmits the special revelation, flows forth from it, or stands in immediate relation to it.

That it will not do to explain this prefix, “holy,” simply from the symbolic and typical character of the Old Dispensation, appears from the entirely similar use of “holy” in the writings of the New Covenant. Here also we find Jerusalem spoken of as the “holy city” (Math. iv. 5; xxvii. 53 and Rev. xi. 2; xxi. 2 and xxii. 19). Christ also speaks of “the holy angels” (Luke ix. 26). Christ himself is called “that holy one that shall be born of Mary.” The men of God of the Old Covenant are spoken of as the “holy prophets.” The members of the Church of the New Covenant, from the Jews as well as from the heathen, bear the almost fixed name of “the saints,” so that οἱ ἅγιοι was provisionally the technical name for those who subsequently were called “the Christians.” In an entirely similar sense the books of the Old Covenant are spoken of as the “Holy Scriptures.” The kiss, with which the partakers of the ἀγάπαι greeted each other, receives the name of “holy kiss.” Children born of believing parents receive the same honorary title. Like the prophets of the Old Covenant, the apostles and prophets of the New Dispensation are called “holy apostles and prophets.” Believers on the Lord are called a “holy people,” a “holy priesthood.” Their prayers come up before God as “the prayers of the saints”; the martyr’s blood is “the blood of the saints”; and the Gospel itself is announced as “the holy Gospel.”

In connection with this use of language the Church of Christ has introduced this epithet of “holy” into her public utterances; and not only the Romish Church, but the churches of the Reformation as well, spoke of the “holy church,” of the “holy prophets,” the “holy apostles,” the “holy Scriptures,” the “holy Gospel,” the “holy sacraments,” “holy Baptism,” “holy Communion,” and thus likewise of “sacred Theology” and the “sacred ministry.” This use of language was constant, and, at least in this limited sense, met with no opposition. This only manifested itself when the Romish church applied this epithet of “holy” distinctively to individual persons of a higher religious standing. This opposition, however, was not unanimous nor logical. Even where the so-called Romish saints were passed by, it remained invariably the custom to speak of “Saint Augustine,” “Saint Thomas,” etc. These were inconsequences, however, to which men were led by the accustomed sound, and which represented in the case of no writer in the days of the Reformation any intentional principle; in addition to which it is observed that Reformed theologians offended less in this respect than many a Lutheran.

This does not mean that by this reformatory correction the use of the ancient Christian church was restored in all its purity. Originally, indeed, the name of holy (ἅγιος) was a general distinction, to discriminate between what was within and what without. Everything that had entered holy ground was considered holy; everything outside was spoken of as “lying in wickedness”; but in the Scriptures of the New Testament no such distinction occurs between a lower and higher holiness within the bounds of the Church. The error of the Romish Church lies in the application of this title to this non-Scriptural distinction. While in the Holy Scriptures all confessors of Christ are called saints, the Romish Church deprived the people at large of this title, and reserved it for a special class of Christians, either for the clergy in general, or for those under higher vows, or for those who, as church fathers and teachers, held a special position; or finally, in its narrowest sense, for those who were canonized. The Reformation opposed this non-Scriptural distinction, but lacked courage to restore the name of saint in its original significance to all believers. Spiritualistic apocalyptic circles tended toward this; from the side of Protestantism also, in addresses, etc., the whole congregation were again called “a holy communion” (eine heilige Gemeinde); poets frequently followed this use of language; but the Reformation has not restored the name of saint as a general term for every Christian. It preferred rather to abandon the name in its general sense, than by the use of it to encourage the Romish misuse.

From this, however, it is evident that there was no superficial work done in the days of the Reformation, and that the representation that by speaking of “holy Scripture,” “holy Gospel,” “holy Baptism,” etc., they merely imitated Rome, rests on a misunderstanding. The reformers did most careful work. There were cases in which the epithet “holy” was purposely dropped; but others also in which this prefix was purposely kept; and to this last category belongs the word “Sacred” before Theology. If it is asked what was meant by this qualification of theology, no special reason seems to have been given. As in the Proverbs “the knowledge of the holy” was spoken of, it was thought proper that that knowledge and science, whose principium lies in the Holy Scriptures, should be distinguished from all other knowledge; and thus it may be said, that in the sixteenth century Sancta theologia chiefly indicated the antithesis between that which came to us from profane literature and from the Holy Scriptures.

At present, however, this general indication will not suffice. The significance of this epithet for the object, the subject, and the method of theology should be more accurately analyzed. And with reference to the object, the principium proprium of theology stands certainly in the foreground. What we understand by this “proper principle” of theology, we will endeavor to explain in the following chapter; here it is merely remarked that the ectypal knowledge of God, in which the science of theology finds its object, does not come to us in the same way, from the same fountain and by the same light, as our other sciences. There is a difference here, which in its deepest root reduces itself to a straightforward antithesis, which places two principles of knowing (principia cognoscendi) over against each other. The particular principium of theology characterizes itself by the entrance of an immediate, divine action, which breaks through what is sinful and false, in order in the midst of these false and sinful conditions to reveal unto us, by a light of its own, what is true and holy in antithesis to what is sinful and false. The heathen antithesis between profane and sacred has no application here. That was simply the pride of the initiated that expressed itself at the expense of the uninitiated. The odi profanum vulgus et arceo is refuted and censured by the character of everything that is holy in the Scriptures, and we might wish that our theologians would never have employed the word profane as an antithesis. In Scripture the antithesis is between the special source and the natural, which is more sharply emphasized by the antithesis between what is wicked, foolish and satanic, and what is true, holy and divine. But however much this proper principium of theology, far from underestimating the natural principium, rather takes it up in itself, as the next chapter will show, the antithesis between the normal and abnormal, the general and special, and between that which is bound by sin and that which surmounts sin, of these “two sources of knowledge,” can never be destroyed. To emphasize this antithesis, the word “sacred” was used in simple imitation of the Scripture, and in this entirely Scriptural sense our science was called Sacred Theology.

If thus the principal motive for the use of this word “sacred” lies in the peculiar character of the object of the science of theology, a second motive was added in consequence of the peculiar quality which in the investigation of this object was claimed as a necessity in the subject. This was on the ground of 1 Cor. ii. 14, that “the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him”; and also because he who stands outside of palingenesis “cannot see the kingdom of God.” Hence, there was not simply an antithesis to be considered between the object of this and of all other sciences; but a similar antithesis also presented itself in the subject, that was to take this theology up into itself and presently to reproduce it. Not every one can engage in this work, but only they who are spiritually minded. No intellectual relation is possible in the domain of this science, between those to whom this theology is “foolishness,” and the others to whom it is the “wisdom of God.” They only, who by virtue of palingenesis are partakers of spiritual illumination, have their eyes opened to see the object to be investigated. The others do not see it, or see it wrongly. By reason of the lack of affinity between subject and object, every deeper penetration into the object is impossible. The rule that “in thy light we see light” finds here its special application. No blind man can be our guide in the domain of optics. Though it is entirely true, therefore, that in the science of Theology the ego of the general human consciousness is the general subject, yet this ego is here incapable of its task, unless the darkening worked by sin in his consciousness is gradually withdrawn.

This leads, in the third place, to the conviction that the science of theology is not governed by the general human mind, such as it now operates in our fallen race, but only to that extent in which this universal human mind has been animated by the Holy Ghost, i.e. also to a difference in method. Only later on can this point be fully explained. At present let it be said that that same Holy Spirit, who offers us the Holy Scriptures and the Church as the result of His activity, is the real Doctor ecclesiæ, who enables us to grasp the truth from the Scriptures, and from our consciousness to reflect the same in scientific analysis. As it advances in the course of centuries, there is coherence and steadiness of progress in the science of theology, and a decided unity of effort, even though individual theologians are not conscious of it or able to determine its course. But while this unity of effort in the course of centuries is determined in the other sciences partly by the inherent Logic, and by natural events keeping pace with it, theology derives this determination of its process from a Logic which presents itself in light pneumatically only, in connection with events which flow from the dealings of Christ with his Church. Hence, this leading of the Holy Spirit as subject of theology makes itself felt in a threefold way. First, through the Church, which has the formulation of dogma in hand, and with it the choice of the course to be taken, and which effects this formulation of dogma officially, i.e. as the instrument of the Holy Spirit. That in this the Church is not an infallible organ, and the reason for it, will be explained later on. We here content ourselves with pointing to this mingling of ecclesiastical power in the development of theology, as one of the actions of the Holy Ghost. Secondly, this action of the Holy Spirit presents itself in the logical development of those tendencies opposed to the truth, which, without any fault or purpose of its own, the Church has had to resist successively, and which only subsequently prove themselves to have been the means of revealing truth in its logical relation. Not from the Church, but rather from without comes the frequent impetus, which stimulates and necessitates spiritual thought, and yet the thinking born from this is not aphoristic, but logical and organically coherent. And in the third place this action of the Holy Spirit is evident from the productiveness of theology in times when the operations of the Spirit in the Church are powerful, and from the poverty and meagreness which are seen in contrast, as soon as those operations of the Spirit withdraw themselves from the Church. Subjectively this can be expressed by saying that theology has flourished only at the times when theologians have continued in prayer, and in prayer have sought the communion of the Holy Spirit, and that on the other hand it loses its leaf and begins its winter sleep when ambition for learning silences prayer in the breast of theologians.

In this sense, both with reference to its object, and to the extent in which it concerns its subject, and its method as well (in virtue of the leading of the Holy Spirit as Doctor ecclesiae), the peculiar character of theology demands that its peculiarity shall be characterized also by its title of Sacred Theology.

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Footnotes

1. Scientiae subjectum here stands for what we would call Scientiae objectum. This confusion between the grammatical and the logical antithesis of subject and object is to be laid to Aristotle’s credit, who took τὸ ὑποκείμενον, i.e. the subject, also for τὸ περὶ οὗ ὁ λόγος γίνεται. Compare Prantl, Geschichte der Logik im Abendland, Leipzig, 1867, III. 208: “An unzähligen Stellen treffen wir fortan (since Duns Scotus, †1308, who first placed them over against each other as termini), bis in das 18th Jahrhundert (d. h. bis Alex. Baumgarten) diesen gebrauch der Worte ‘subjective’ und ‘objective,’ welcher zu dem jetzigen sich genau umgekehrt verhält: nämlich damals hiess subjectivum dasjenige, was sich auf das Subject der Urtheille, also auf die concreten Gegenstände des Denkens, bezieht; hingegen objective jenes, was im blossen objicere, i.e. im Vorstelligmachen, liegt und hiemit auf Rechnung des Vorstellenden fällt.” See also Rudolph Encken, Die Grundbegriffe der Gegenwart, Leipzig, 1893: Subjectiv-Objectiv, pp. 25 ff.; and Trendelenburg, Elementa Logices Aristoteliciae, ed. VIII., pp. 54, 55. ↩

2. In opposition to the conventional theory of Democritus, Heraclitus taught that language was produced in us by the impressions received from the objects in or around us. So Democritus taught a language by θέσις, he by φύσις. ↩