Jürgen Moltmann’s Unique Theology: A Critique

Christopher Warne has recently given us something to think about in his first and second takes on Moltmann’s challenge to the doctrine of God’s impassibility. There were many things that caught my eye over these two posts. Here is one. Warne claims that, on the point of God’s impassibility at least, Moltmann comes to “a unique conclusion, that he “rejects the traditional doctrine,” that he “takes a new approach,” that he “makes a unique statement,” that he takes issue “with traditional Christology and the doctrine of God,” etc.

Warne’s claims about Moltmann “uniqueness” (at least on this point) are certainly in keeping with Moltmann’s own thinking about the doing of theology. In the wonderful little book Shaping a Theological Mind: Theological Context and Methodology, Moltmann contributes an essay, “A Lived Theology” (87-95), in which he reflects on the development of his own theological thought. I want to highlight the consistency of Moltmann’s own claims with those of Warne, and then pick at them a bit (Moltmann’s claims, that is, not Warne’s).

Moltmann and ‘unique’ theology

After briefly narrating the dark history of his survival (barely!) of the 1943 bombing of Hamburg, his hometown, and his time as a POW in Britain, he recounts his time of study at Göttingen, studying the reformed theology of the school of Saumur. From there, he and his new wife Elisabeth Wendel entered pastoral ministry in small German villages for a number of years, after which he became a full academic, first at Wurpertal and eventually at Tübingen.

It was while at Wurpertal that he and another young professor, Wolfhart Pannenberg, “had begun to develop our own theology, without looking over our shoulders at tradition and the great who had preceded us” (90). He says that his first work, Theology of Hope, came out of this period of “youthful iconoclasm” (90). And though he wouldn’t characterize his later thought as ‘youthful,’ he would, I think, still call it ‘iconoclastic.’ For Moltmann, ‘developing our own theology’ became programmatic. This is not to say that he developed his theology in ignorance of tradition or other ‘greats’ of the Christian faith. Indeed, Moltmann was, in good German academic style, well read in the history of Christian thought and in contemporary Christian thought (though that does not mean that he had read well those traditions). But for Moltmann, theology is a personal–i.e. individual–conviction; it is highly contextual and eclectic.

Warne claims that Liberation is “a central theme in Motmann’s writing,” and again Moltmann agrees. He had, Moltmann says, always “supported… contextual theologies to the best of [his] abilities” (92). By ‘contextual theologies’ he means those theologies built upon theological reflection from, in and on a particular context: liberation theology (oppressed communities in south America) and its children: black theology (African American communities in America), Feminist theology (women in America), Minjung theology (ostracized communities in Korea), and the like. Curiously, he noticed that his support for these had a backfiring effect:

I think that it was in a conference in 1977 in Mexico City that I suddenly realized, ‘You’re not black, so black theology is not for you; you’re not oppressed so you can’t be a liberation theologian; and you’re not a woman, so for you feminist theology is not a possibility.’ (92)

Precisely in supporting such ‘contextualization’ of theology he had supported his own exclusion from most of such theologizing. This, it seems, was not too much a bother to him. Rather than causing him to question the legitimacy of such ‘theologies’, it pushed him, he says, to further his own project: “So I began my ‘systematic contributions’ to theology” (92).

The six volumes, including Theology of Hope, of his systematic contribution, treating God, God and creation, Christology, pneumatology, eschatology, and, finally, prolegomena – or as he has it, epilegomena, were not meant as ‘contributions’ in any traditional sense. They were not, for Moltmann, contributions to the Christian tradition:

Abraham Lincoln is reported to have said that he had no wish to be the slave of any master or the master of any slave. In a different context, the same could be said of me. I had no wish to be the teacher of students eternally bound to me, or to be the mere student of teachers to whom I was eternally bound. My theology is not intended for repetition. It is intended to stimulate people towards their own theological thinking and their own theological experience. If two people say the same thing, one of them is superfluous (93).

Warne is right, so far as I can tell. Moltmann’s desire was to be unique. He pursued that desire and, in many instances, achieved it.

The trouble with being unique

It is just at this point that I rather scratch my head. Insofar as Moltmann desires that people follow Paul’s advice to the Corinthians and not make him, or any other, a personal idol and a cause for division in the church, his desire to be neither the master nor the slave of anyone is commendable. But surely he must also follow Paul who calls himself a slave of Christ. This is what is so troubling about Moltmann’s individualistic notions of theology. It is a classic maxim of Christianity that ‘no one can have God as their Father who does not have the church as their mother.’ I think it could also be said ‘no one can have Christ for a husband who is not part of the church, his bride.’ To put it another way, theology is confession with the church.

To give an example, at a very fundamental level isn’t theology supposed to be only repetitious? Aren’t Christians today to join the myriads of Christians in the past who confess “Christ is Lord.” Is not the end of every Christian, persons from every tribe and tongue and nation – not merely two, but multitudes of people – to repeat the refrain “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being” and “Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!” Is this repetition superfluous?

It may be objected, ‘of course not! That is not what Moltmann is getting at. Moltmann is simply saying that theology as an academic practice of one person’s reflections upon his or her experiences of God in life is not the sort of thing that bears repeating.’ In an academic setting theological repetition is superfluous.

My response: so much the worse for academic theology, I suppose. Theology cannot be mere testimony of one’s experience of God, however important that is. It is confession with the church. Further, it is not confession of one’s personal experience. No, it is confession of what it, the church, has heard. It is personal confession of what the church has heard, to be sure; but what the church has heard is not legion. Thus, theology is fundamentally repetition; repetition of what God has taught his church to confess.

If, as Warne claims, historical theologians have indeed reminded us that the doctrine of impassibility is a hold-over from the early church’s entanglement with Greek metaphysics (a claim very dubitable), so much the worse for historical theologians. If, as the German style model of a university has it, repetition in theology means superfluous redundancy, so much the worse for that model. If, as Moltmann claims, one’s own theology is to be beholden to no one, so much the worse, I think, for Moltmann’s theology.

3 responses to “Jürgen Moltmann’s Unique Theology: A Critique”

Chris Warne

January 8, 2020

Joshua Schendel in his critique of Moltmann’s understanding of theology as particular and unique, which was initially raised in my article “The Passibility of God” is well expressed, and as a whole, a stout questioning of Moltmann’s academic particularism. Overall, I would like to affirm Schendel’s understanding of how Moltmann views himself as an individual theologian, which Moltmann himself claims comes from his wife, former feminist theologian Elisabeth Moltmann-Wendel. Elisabeth caused Jurgen to transition away from speaking for the majority, towards representing his views as those of an individual. Indeed, Schendel is accurate when he says:

“By ‘contextual theologies’ he means those theologies built upon theological reflection from, in and on a particular context: liberation theology (oppressed communities in south America) and its children: black theology (African American communities in America), Feminist theology (women in America), Minjung theology (ostracized communities in Korea), and the like.”

This is a listing of Moltmann’s chapter headings in Part three of his Experiences in Theology, which is the final volume of his Contributions to Systematic Theology (see translators note). Indeed, this is Moltmann’s later professed purpose of his Contributions to Systematic Theology as he writes in the 1993 preface to The Theology of Hope:

“I wrote essays supporting liberation theology and feminist theology, African theology and Korean Minjung theology. But all this did not blind me to the fact that my life and my context are not theirs. So for my own work, I entered into a certain self-critical disengagement and began to write my ‘systematic contributions to theology’. (ix)”

However, Schendel is mistaken in including Theology of Hope in Moltmann’s Contributions to Systematic Theology, as this project was undertaken beginning with The Trinity and the Kingdom, and Theology of Hope is part of Moltmann’s self-professed unintentional introductory trilogy to his theology. The volumes of this introductory trilogy are, in order of publication, Theology of Hope, The Crucified God, and The Church in the Power of the Spirit. However, this tangential to Schendel’s critique and thus superfluous, if not a bit repetitious of Moltmann’s own words on the subject (See The Church in the Power of the Spirit (1993). xv. and The Trinity and the Kingdom (1993). ix.).
Schendel’s critique is that Motlmann’s concept of a particular and unique individual, who speaks independently apart from Tradition, violates the repetitive nature of the Church’s witness. This in Schendel’s view is fundamentally unchanging in nature of the Church’s message. This moving away from Tradition he attributes to Moltmann’s intellectual milieu in the German University system. Schendel writes:

“Moltmann is simply saying that theology as an academic practice of one person’s reflections upon his or her experiences of God in life is not the sort of thing that bears repeating. In an academic setting theological repetition is superfluous.”

To this critique I will raise two questions which need investigation: (1) does Moltmann see himself outside of a tradition and therefore see himself as completely unique, and (2) at what point does the particular nature of an individual bear its own unique incarnate witness to the kenosis of the Spirit, thereby being repetitious in origin and particular in expression?
As Schendel admits, Moltmann is well read, even if he (Schendel), questions the veracity of Motlmann’s reading. Schendel writes:

“For Moltmann, ‘developing our own theology’ became programmatic. This is not to say that he developed his theology in ignorance of tradition or other ‘greats’ of the Christian faith. Indeed, Moltmann was, in good German academic style, well read in the history of Christian thought and in contemporary Christian thought (though that does not mean that he had read well those traditions). But for Moltmann, theology is a personal–i.e. individual–conviction; it is highly contextual and eclectic.”

I would challenge Schendel here to show where Moltmann has deviated from Tradition, which itself should not be considered monolithic, insofar as Moltmann is refuting an axiom that is quintessential to the Faith. I will provide two examples where it seems that Moltmann may be refuting an aspect of Tradition, but in reality is simply either sourcing a minority voice, or in agreement with others inside his own reformed tradition.
Firstly, as I argued in “The Impassibility of God,” Moltmann expressly rejects the Greek notion of an impassible God on the grounds that it violates the witness of Scripture. In defense of this he quotes none other than Origen of Alexandria in his commentary on Ezekiel 6.6 (Future of Creation. 69 et al.) Clearly, Moltmann is not pulling this critique out of thin air, but grounding it in a quality, albeit minority, historical theological voice. Secondly, Moltmann is thoroughly Barthian when he places the cry of dereliction at the center of theology. Barth writes on the temptation of faith:

“It is in this way that He places our faith in question, taking it away, and killing it as our own work. For what remains of our faith when we hear Him cry: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” If the Son of God can confirm faith only by letting it be taken from Him, what can this mean for us but the revelation that our faith as our own work is a lost work. (CD, II/1, 253)’

Barth clearly sees the cry of dereliction as the temptation of faith, which is the terminus a quo and the terminus ad quem of our knowledge of God. It is here that we lose our own assurance and adopt only the assurance of revelation. Moltmann then takes this temptation (Torrence notes here that Temptation is the translation of Anfechtung, tentatio, or testing, 247) as his own terminus a quo, defining it as the response of theology to answer this question. Moltmann writes in Crucified God: “All Christian theology and all Christian life is basically an answer to the question which Jesus asked when he died” (4).” All this is to say that Moltmann is rooted in both Origen and Barth with his theology, even if he draws new conclusions thereupon.
The second and more direct critique which Schendel raises is can theology be anything other than repetitious? He answers emphatically no, with which I am somewhat inclined to agree. My own question, however, is repetitious in what way? Indeed, while we might be agreed that quoting revelation, i.e. the Scriptures, verbatim is the repetitive nature which we are called to witness to the evangelical message of the Lord, what is revelation. Is the original Greek more primary than the translated English, and if so, which Greek Scriptures in the textual tradition? Furthermore, what is the relationship between the page and the Spirit, the letter of the law and the Spirit of it? We know that the “letter of the law kills, but the Spirit of the law gives life” according to St. Paul (II Cor. 3.6), which is to say that our incarnate reading of the Scriptures, and Tradition I would posit, are the life giving force of revelation in their incarnation of the kenotic Spirit. This would mean that all theology is done in its own unique and particular way, coming from the singular, and fundamentally repetitious, source of the Holy Spirit. Moltmann, in my reading of him, is not attempting to thwart or re-write Tradition, but rather seizing upon those more minority voices and repeating them, especially those in his particularly reformed tradition.
Concludingly, I believe Schendel to have made an excellent synthesis of Moltmann’s theology and his critique has raised questions which needed more elucidation. However, as far as claiming Moltmann is contrary to Tradition or attempting to thwart the repetitive nature of Tradition, I urge readers to consider the complexities of Moltmann’s thought, and not simply dismiss him for supporting a more minor facet of the overall, non-monolithic Tradition.

Chris Warne

January 8, 2020

Joshua Schendel in his critique of Moltmann’s understanding of theology as particular and unique, which was initially raised in my article “The Passibility of God” is well expressed, and as a whole, a stout questioning of Moltmann’s academic particularism. Overall, I would like to affirm Schendel’s understanding of how Moltmann views himself as an individual theologian, which Moltmann himself claims comes from his wife, former feminist theologian Elisabeth Moltmann-Wendel. Elisabeth caused Jurgen to transition away from speaking for the majority, towards representing his views as those of an individual. Indeed, Schendel is accurate when he says:

“By ‘contextual theologies’ he means those theologies built upon theological reflection from, in and on a particular context: liberation theology (oppressed communities in south America) and its children: black theology (African American communities in America), Feminist theology (women in America), Minjung theology (ostracized communities in Korea), and the like.”

This is a listing of Moltmann’s chapter headings in Part three of his Experiences in Theology, which is the final volume of his Contributions to Systematic Theology (see translators note). Indeed, this is Moltmann’s later professed purpose of his Contributions to Systematic Theology as he writes in the 1993 preface to The Theology of Hope:

“I wrote essays supporting liberation theology and feminist theology, African theology and Korean Minjung theology. But all this did not blind me to the fact that my life and my context are not theirs. So for my own work, I entered into a certain self-critical disengagement and began to write my ‘systematic contributions to theology’. (ix)”

However, Schendel is mistaken in including Theology of Hope in Moltmann’s Contributions to Systematic Theology, as this project was undertaken beginning with The Trinity and the Kingdom, and Theology of Hope is part of Moltmann’s self-professed unintentional introductory trilogy to his theology. The volumes of this introductory trilogy are, in order of publication, Theology of Hope, The Crucified God, and The Church in the Power of the Spirit. However, this tangential to Schendel’s critique and thus superfluous, if not a bit repetitious of Moltmann’s own words on the subject (See The Church in the Power of the Spirit (1993). xv. and The Trinity and the Kingdom (1993). ix.).
Schendel’s critique is that Motlmann’s concept of a particular and unique individual, who speaks independently apart from Tradition, violates the repetitive nature of the Church’s witness. This in Schendel’s view is fundamentally unchanging in nature of the Church’s message. This moving away from Tradition he attributes to Moltmann’s intellectual milieu in the German University system. Schendel writes:

“Moltmann is simply saying that theology as an academic practice of one person’s reflections upon his or her experiences of God in life is not the sort of thing that bears repeating. In an academic setting theological repetition is superfluous.”

To this critique I will raise two questions which need investigation: (1) does Moltmann see himself outside of a tradition and therefore see himself as completely unique, and (2) at what point does the particular nature of an individual bear its own unique incarnate witness to the kenosis of the Spirit, thereby being repetitious in origin and particular in expression?
As Schendel admits, Moltmann is well read, even if he (Schendel), questions the veracity of Motlmann’s reading. Schendel writes:

“For Moltmann, ‘developing our own theology’ became programmatic. This is not to say that he developed his theology in ignorance of tradition or other ‘greats’ of the Christian faith. Indeed, Moltmann was, in good German academic style, well read in the history of Christian thought and in contemporary Christian thought (though that does not mean that he had read well those traditions). But for Moltmann, theology is a personal–i.e. individual–conviction; it is highly contextual and eclectic.”

I would challenge Schendel here to show where Moltmann has deviated from Tradition, which itself should not be considered monolithic, insofar as Moltmann is refuting an axiom that is quintessential to the Faith. I will provide two examples where it seems that Moltmann may be refuting an aspect of Tradition, but in reality is simply either sourcing a minority voice, or in agreement with others inside his own reformed tradition.
Firstly, as I argued in “The Impassibility of God,” Moltmann expressly rejects the Greek notion of an impassible God on the grounds that it violates the witness of Scripture. In defense of this he quotes none other than Origen of Alexandria in his commentary on Ezekiel 6.6 (Future of Creation. 69 et al.) Clearly, Moltmann is not pulling this critique out of thin air, but grounding it in a quality, albeit minority, historical theological voice. Secondly, Moltmann is thoroughly Barthian when he places the cry of dereliction at the center of theology. Barth writes on the temptation of faith:

“It is in this way that He places our faith in question, taking it away, and killing it as our own work. For what remains of our faith when we hear Him cry: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” If the Son of God can confirm faith only by letting it be taken from Him, what can this mean for us but the revelation that our faith as our own work is a lost work. (CD, II/1, 253)’

Barth clearly sees the cry of dereliction as the temptation of faith, which is the terminus a quo and the terminus ad quem of our knowledge of God. It is here that we lose our own assurance and adopt only the assurance of revelation. Moltmann then takes this temptation (Torrence notes here that Temptation is the translation of Anfechtung, tentatio, or testing, 247) as his own terminus a quo, defining it as the response of theology to answer this question. Moltmann writes in Crucified God: “All Christian theology and all Christian life is basically an answer to the question which Jesus asked when he died” (4).” All this is to say that Moltmann is rooted in both Origen and Barth with his theology, even if he draws new conclusions thereupon.
The second and more direct critique which Schendel raises is can theology be anything other than repetitious? He answers emphatically no, with which I am somewhat inclined to agree. My own question, however, is repetitious in what way? Indeed, while we might be agreed that quoting revelation, i.e. the Scriptures, verbatim is the repetitive nature which we are called to witness to the evangelical message of the Lord, what is revelation. Is the original Greek more primary than the translated English, and if so, which Greek Scriptures in the textual tradition? Furthermore, what is the relationship between the page and the Spirit, the letter of the law and the Spirit of it? We know that the “letter of the law kills, but the Spirit of the law gives life” according to St. Paul (II Cor. 3.6), which is to say that our incarnate reading of the Scriptures, and Tradition I would posit, are the life giving force of revelation in their incarnation of the kenotic Spirit. This would mean that all theology is done in its own unique and particular way, coming from the singular, and fundamentally repetitious, source of the Holy Spirit. Moltmann, in my reading of him, is not attempting to thwart or re-write Tradition, but rather seizing upon those more minority voices and repeating them, especially those in his particularly reformed tradition.
Concludingly, I believe Schendel to have made an excellent synthesis of Moltmann’s theology and his critique has raised questions which needed more elucidation. However, as far as claiming Moltmann is contrary to Tradition or attempting to thwart the repetitive nature of Tradition, I urge readers to consider the complexities of Moltmann’s thought, and not simply dismiss him for supporting a more minor facet of the overall, non-monolithic Tradition.

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