Karl Barths Moral Thought 1St Edition Gerald Mckenny Full Chapter

Karl Barth's Moral Thought 1st Edition
Gerald Mckenny
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/karl-barths-moral-thought-1st-edition-gerald-mckenny
/
OUP CORRECTED AUTOPAGE PROOFS – FINAL, 24/06/21, SPi
OX F O R D S T U D I E S I N T H E O L O G IC A L E T H IC S
General Editor
N IG E L B IG G A R
OX F O R D S T U D I E S I N T H E O L O G IC A L E T H IC S
General Editor
Nigel Biggar
The series presents discussions on topics of general concern to Christian Ethics,

as it is currently taught in universities and colleges, at the level demanded by a
serious student. The volumes will not be specialized monographs nor general
introductions or surveys. They aim to make a contribution worthy of notice in
its own right but also focused in such a way as to provide a suitable starting-
point for orientation.
The titles include studies in important contributors to the Christian Tradition
of moral thought; explorations of current moral and social questions; and
discussions of central concepts in Christian moral and political thought.
Authors treat their topics in a way that will show the relevance of the Christian
tradition, but with openness to neighboring traditions of thought which have
entered into dialog with it.
Karl Barth’s
Moral Thought
G E R A L D Mc K E N N Y
1
1
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of
Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries
© Gerald McKenny 2021
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First Edition published in 2021
Impression: 1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics
rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above
You must not circulate this work in any other form
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Data available
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021931891
ISBN 978–0–19–284552–8
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192845528.001.0001
Printed and bound by
CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Preface
This book presents Karl Barth’s theological ethics as an account of morally

good action. For Barth, the norm of human action is the command of God
(Chapter 1). Barth understands the command of God as a moral norm,
which for him, following the neo-Kantian school of philosophy with which
he was familiar, means that it poses to human action the decisive question
of its validity; in doing so, it relates to moral philosophy, which also poses
this question (Chapter 2). Because the command of God is a moral norm,
theological ethics, as the doctrine of the command of God, is a “scientific”
(wissenschaftlicher) account of morally good action. As such, it answers
questions posed to any divine command theory: How does God’s command
determine the good of human action? Why are we bound to accept what it
determines (Chapter 3)? It also shows how God’s commands are rationally
intelligible and in what sense we can know them, reason about them, and
hold each other accountable with regard to them (Chapters 4 and 5). Finally,
it shows how the human subject or agent who is addressed by God’s com-
mands is a moral subject or agent (Chapters 6 and 7).
Why does it matter to read Barth’s theological ethics as an account of
morally good action, or indeed to read Barth’s theological ethics at all? The
answer to the first question begins with a difficulty many readers have with
Barth’s ethics. In his Church Dogmatics, Barth appears to introduce theolog-
ical ethics by setting it apart from all other ethics and demanding, as the
price for understanding it, the renunciation of all other conceptions of eth-
ics. The reader, it seems, is asked to relinquish all that is familiar and to
submit to Barth’s determination of what ethics is. That this is so seems to
follow from Barth’s understanding of the norm of human action as a
revealed norm that is inaccessible to reason. The norm of human action for
Barth is the command of God, but the command of God itself is the Word
of God. And the Word of God is the revelation and work of God’s grace to
human beings in Jesus Christ. The norm, then, is God’s grace in Jesus Christ
(gospel) addressed to human beings as a command to confirm grace in their
conduct (law). Human beings are to become in their own action what they
already are by the action of God’s grace. It is unclear whether or in what
sense the command of God, so understood, is a moral norm, at least as
vi Preface
moral norms are typically understood in moral philosophy. Accordingly, it

seems reasonable to suppose that Barth’s theological ethics is concerned
with something other than that which concerns moral philosophy—that it
is not an account of morally good action in the same sense as the latter is
but is intended as an alternative to it. And if this is so, it seems that we must
indeed relinquish what we know about ethics from other sources in order to
understand Barth’s ethics.
In fact, Barth’s theological ethics is not moral philosophy, and Barth
introduces the former by distinguishing it quite radically from the latter.
However, the relationship between the two disciplines—and thus between
his conception of ethics and more familiar conceptions—is more complex
than the radical distinction between them suggests. Barth holds that theo-
logical ethics and moral philosophy operate with the same formal concep-
tion of moral norms.1 Remarkably, he even insists that, in the last analysis,
they share the same moral content.2 Far from an alternative to moral philos-
ophy, Barth’s theological ethics is what he thinks moral philosophy would
look like if it, too, acknowledged the grace of God in Jesus Christ as the
norm of human action. It matters to read Barth’s theological ethics in this
way, namely, as an account of morally good action, because it is only when it
is read in this way that both its strangeness and its familiarity with respect
to standard conceptions of what ethics is can be appreciated. Barth does not
ask us to relinquish our conceptions of what ethics is; he instead invites us
to consider how these conceptions are re-positioned by theological ethics
when the norm of human action is taken to be God’s grace to human beings
in Jesus Christ.
This re-positioning of moral philosophy by theological ethics brings us to
the second question: Why does it matter to read Barth’s theological ethics at
all? A brief and admittedly oversimplified historical narrative of theological
ethics will facilitate an answer to this question. Until the modern period
there was no need to qualify the term “ethics” by the term “theological.”
Moral norms were taken to be rational, and thus accessible to reason, but it
was assumed that, due to sin and creaturely limitations, revelation was nec-
essary to clarify them, specify them, and direct them to the ultimate end of
human beings. For Aquinas and Calvin, for example, theology had the task
of articulating moral norms by drawing on a conception of rational moral
law to interpret Scripture and on Scripture to unfold the content of the
1 CD II/2, pp. 513–15. 2 CD II/2, p. 527.

Preface vii
rational moral law.3 By the eighteenth century, however, philosophical

approaches to ethics that were independent of theology had taken hold.
Then as now, these approaches were not necessarily independent of
Christian faith, and they often affirmed the necessity of belief in God. What
they did not affirm was the need for revelation to clarify or specify moral
norms. Kant is central to this development, not because of his allegedly rad-
ical departure from tradition but because of his subtle revision of it. In con-
tinuity with tradition, Kant argued that moral reason requires a historical
faith such as Christianity, with its Scripture and ecclesiastical statutes.
However, this faith is needed not to clarify or specify a moral law that is
obscure to us in our sinful nature but to render the moral law perceptible to
us in our sensuous nature. To ensure that it is the moral law, and not a per-
version of it, that is rendered perceptible, the philosopher interprets
Scripture in accordance with the rational moral law. But Scripture for its
part does not play any role in unfolding the content of that law. Reason is
sufficient for its articulation; historical faith merely renders it recognizable.
With no role for revelation in the articulation of the moral law, philosophy
can proceed with this task independently of theology, which is reduced to
establishing the reliability of Scripture, and with it the ecclesiastical faith
based on it, as a historical vehicle for the promotion and propagation of the
moral law.4
The distinctive enterprise of theological ethics that arose in the nine-
teenth century in Germany assigned itself the task of reclaiming ethics, or
rather something of it, for theology, on the premise that, contra Kant, his-
torical faith has its own proper ethical content which moral philosophy
either makes or leaves room for. Schleiermacher was influential in setting
the pattern for this program by envisioning theological ethics as a comple-
ment to an independent philosophical ethics. From the standpoint of theo-
logical ethics at least, both it and philosophical ethics were taken to be
necessary to a full account of the moral life, and each was taken to be legiti-
mate on its own terms.5 Within these parameters, Schleiermacher’s succes-
sors exhibited a range of opinions on what exactly each enterprise was and
3 See St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica i-ii, q. 99, art. 2, ad 2; q. 100, arts. 1, 3, 11; and
John Calvin, ICR 2.8.1–50, 4.20.16.
4 See Immanuel Kant, RWB, pp. 112–22 (6:102–14); and Kant, The Conflict of the Faculties,
7:36–48.
5 See Friedrich Schleiermacher, Selections from Friedrich Schleiermacher’s Christian Ethics,
ed. and tr. by James M. Brandt (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), pp. 19f. and
32–6; and Schleiermacher, Introduction to Christian Ethics, translated by John C. Shelley
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1989), pp. 41–4.
viii Preface
how the two related to one another. But the two enterprises were typically
regarded as complementary, with philosophical ethics articulating formal
or universal aspects of morality and allotting or at least allowing theological
ethics its role of articulating a particular or historically embedded way of
acting or form of life.
Barth’s break with this complementarian approach is decisive. He baldly
asserts that “in a scientific form [in wissenschaftlicher Gestalt] there is only
one ethics, theological ethics.”6 Insofar as for Barth the Word of God is also
the command of God, there is no human action that is not claimed by the
Word of God from the outset. And insofar as theology is by definition the
scientific attestation of the Word of God, there is no discipline of ethics that
is independent of theology. On this view, other approaches to ethics, and in
particular, moral philosophy, are legitimate only insofar as they too bear
witness, albeit implicitly, to the norm (namely, the Word of God as God’s
command) theological ethics attests explicitly. In a kind of reversal of Kant,
Barth insists that theological ethics has the task of articulating the norm to
which both it and moral philosophy are accountable. At the same time,
because moral philosophy has to do with the same norm, albeit only implic-
itly, theological ethics is permitted and indeed obligated to avail itself of the
assistance moral philosophy offers it in its explicit articulation of the norm.
In short, it matters to read Barth’s theological ethics because the role of
articulating moral norms matters to theology, and because Barth reclaims
this role. In a context in which philosophy has declared its independence of
theology, Barth’s theological ethics reformulates the traditional position in
which theology articulates the norm of human conduct with the necessary
assistance of philosophy. It offers a bold alternative to the complementarian
approach of Schleiermacher and his successors, rejecting the positioning of
theological ethics by moral philosophy while recognizing the legitimacy of
the latter and demanding ongoing engagement with it. The complementar-
ian solution had succeeded in claiming a place for theological ethics, but at
the price of yielding its prerogative to articulate moral norms to moral phi-
losophy and constituting itself as something other than an account of mor-
ally good action. Theological ethics became instead the description of a
particularly Christian way of acting or form of life or an account of how
moral norms conceptually articulated by moral philosophy are concretely
actualized in a Christian way of acting or form of life. To the extent that the
6 CD II/2, p. 542/KD II/2, p. 603 [emphases in German original].

Preface ix
claim of moral philosophy to independence of theology is unlikely to be

reversed and the complementarian solution to that claim is likely to remain
unsatisfactory, Barth’s reclamation of a traditional role for theology in the
articulation of moral norms claims the attention of everyone who considers
theological ethics a worthwhile enterprise.
However, Barth’s alternative to the complementarian solution is not the
only live option today. There are at least two competing options. One option
begins by insisting that there is no ethics that is not qualified by an adjec-
tive. On this view, moral philosophy, too, occupies a particular place, and
theological ethics therefore stands at no relative disadvantage with respect
to it. Because every form of ethics is qualified by its location, theological
ethics can occupy its own proper place, which is the church, in the confi-
dence that it cannot be positioned by any other discipline, including moral
philosophy.7 Once these points are acknowledged, theological ethics and
moral philosophy can engage one another on non- hegemonic terms.
Another option is to formulate a Christian moral philosophy according to
which the perfection of natural moral capacities that are initially under-
stood in philosophical terms is ultimately to be understood in theological
terms, as conformity to Christ that is brought about by divine grace.8 With
respect to the first of these options, Barth’s theological ethics can claim the
advantage of recognizing the universality of philosophical ethics at a formal
level, on which the moral norm is understood, in neo-Kantian terms, as the
question of the good posed to human action. It thereby accepts moral phi-
losophy on its own terms, at least insofar as it takes itself to be a formal
inquiry, as it did in the neo-Kantian tradition with which Barth was famil-
iar, while it also allows for, and indeed requires, a constant engagement of
theological ethics with moral philosophy, insofar as the claim that the com-
mand of God is a moral norm presupposes a formal concept of the moral
norm as such. With respect to the second option, Barth’s theological ethics
can claim the advantage of allowing theological ethics as a distinctive
account of morally good action to stand on its own feet from the beginning
7 Stanley Hauerwas is the foremost exponent of this option. See Stanley Hauerwas, The
Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 1983).
8 The foremost exponent of this option is Jennifer Herdt. See Jennifer A. Herdt, Putting on
Virtue: The Legacy of the Splendid Vices (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008); and
Herdt, Forming Humanity: Redeeming the German Bildung Tradition (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2019).
x Preface
of its account of morally good or right action and all the way through, albeit
never in isolation from moral philosophy.
At the same time, Barth’s theological ethics, and thus his account of mor-
ally good action, stands or falls on the viability of his claim that the norm of
human action is the grace of God to human beings in Jesus Christ. If the
claim that grace is the norm of human action is defensible, Barth’s account
of morally good action is a plausible alternative to the complementarian
solution and a promising option for theological ethics today. If it is not
defensible, theological ethics today will have to consider other alternatives
to the complementarian solution. This book argues that this claim poses
problems for Barth’s account of morally good action at nearly every junc-
ture. Its verdict is that while these problems do not invalidate Barth’s theo-
logical ethics, they do render it implausible. Nevertheless, the Conclusion to
the book proposes that its implausibility is not a reason for those who seek
direction for theological ethics today to ignore Barth’s ethics. For not only
does Barth offer one of the great answers to the question of how theology
should proceed in light of the claim of moral philosophy to independence
of theology. He also points the way to a more compelling answer than the
one he offered.
This book continues the focus of my earlier book on Barth’s claim that
God’s grace to human beings in Jesus Christ is the norm of human action.9
That book defended the claim as a salutary one, arguing that it enabled
theological ethics to resist the reduction of the good to human moral
achievements while also affirming the genuinely human character of life
lived in confirmation of grace. It commended Barth’s effort to formulate
moral concepts as theological concepts, arguing that he had returned ethics
to its proper place in dogmatics while also affirming the priority of the ethi-
cal. And on both counts it understood Barth’s ethics as a complex negation-
within-affirmation of modernity that serves as a model for theological
ethics today.
In contrast, this book holds that Barth was equally concerned to formu-
late theological concepts as moral concepts, presenting dogmatics as ethics.
It argues that his effort to do so failed due to insuperable problems with the
claim that grace is a moral norm. And it suggests that rather than taking
Barth’s engagement with modernity as its model, theological ethics would
do better to retrieve an approach to moral norms that Barth and his
9 Gerald McKenny, The Analogy of Grace: Karl Barth’s Moral Theology (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2010).
Preface xi
modern predecessors had left behind. Yet this book also credits Barth with
making the first move of the retrieval by reasserting the prerogative of the-
ology to articulate moral norms with the assistance of philosophy. In the
end, the retrieval may lead theological ethics away from Barth. But without
him it may never have been undertaken in the first place.
Acknowledgments
This book owes much to the individuals, institutions, and publishers that
have supported it and have provided occasions for me to present portions of
it. Special gratitude is due to Tom Perridge, an extraordinary editor whose
frequent words of encouragement over several years motivated me to per-
sist with the project, and to Nigel Biggar, who was willing to consider
another volume on Barth’s ethics for the Oxford Studies in Theological
Ethics series, which had already been graced by his own landmark study.
Gratitude is due also for the opportunities provided by the University of
Koblenz-Landau Conference on The Ethics of Responsibility, the University
of Chicago Divinity School Religion and Ethics Workshop, the Princeton
Theological Seminary Annual Barth Conference, the University of St
Andrews Ethics Seminar, the Karl Barth Society of North America, the
University of Aberdeen Conference on The Freedom of a Christian Ethicist,
and the University of Notre Dame Moral Theology Colloquium. I am grateful
to Jürgen Boomgaarden, Brian Brock, Layne Hancock, George Hunsinger,
Michael Le Chevallier, Martin Leiner, Michael Mawson, Bruce McCormack,
William Schweiker, Daniel Strand, and Alan Torrance for these opportunities
and to the members of the audiences whose questions and comments are too
many to recall but too considerable not to mention. I am also grateful to the
Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. for permission to include in this book, as
Chapter 7, a revised version of “‘Freed by God for God’: Divine Action and
Human Action in Karl Barth’s Evangelical Theology and Other Late Works,” in
Karl Barth and the Making of Evangelical Theology: A Fifty-Year Perspective,
edited by Clifford B. Anderson and Bruce L. McCormack (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2015), pp. 119–38. In this connection it is also appropriate to
acknowledge prior versions of material in this volume that has now been
substantially rewritten. An earlier version of the Introduction and first two
sections of Chapter 1 was published under the title of “Ethics” in The Oxford
Handbook of Karl Barth, edited by Paul Daffyd Jones and Paul T. Nimmo
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), pp. 482–95. An ancestral version of
Chapter 6 may be found in “Karl Barth’s Concept of Responsibility,” in ‘Kein
Mensch, der der Verantwortung entgehen könnte’. Verantwortungsethik in
theologischer, philosophischer und religionswissenschaftlicher Perspektive,
xiv Acknowledgments
edited by Jürgen Boomgaarden and Martin Leiner (Herder-Verlag, 2014),

pp. 67–93.
Gratitude is due as well to many people who have influenced the argu-
ments and interpretations of Barth that appear in this book. Layne Hancock
(who also prepared the index), Jimmy Haring, Jennifer Herdt, and Frederick
Simmons graciously read and commented on portions of the manuscript in
progress, and the final version benefited from their wise suggestions. The
book has also benefited from conversations with Matthew Anderson, Neil
Arner, Jesse Couenhoven, Carl Friesen, John Hare, George Hunsinger,
Willie James Jennings, Cambria Kaltwasser, Joseph Lim, Bruce McCormack,
Paul Nimmo, Jean Porter, Frederick Simmons, Jeffrey Skaff, Hans Ulrich,
William Werpehowski, Andrea White, and Derek Woodard-Lehman. I also
mention with gratitude the two anonymous Oxford University Press refer-
ees who carefully and thoughtfully read the penultimate version of the
manuscript. I should not neglect to invoke in this connection the standard
proviso that all remaining defects and deficiencies are to be charged to my
account.
Karl Barth’s Moral Thought is my second book on Barth’s ethics, and I
owe it to the reader to explain why I was not content to allow my first book,
The Analogy of Grace, to stand as my final word on the topic. One reason is
that, like any author, I regretted my failures of omission. Why had I not
provided a full account of the command of God in Barth’s ethics, as John
Hare gently asked me, or of Barth’s concept of responsibility? I am pleased
to report that this book has filled these gaping lacunae. But omissions alone
would not have necessitated another volume. A more adequate reason for
undertaking a second inquiry concerns an imbalance I now perceive in the
first one. In my determination to correct what I saw as a tendency in
Protestant thought and church life, whether on the right or the left, for ethi-
cal convictions to develop independently of theology and then to subject
theology to themselves, I focused in the first book on Barth’s re-inscription
of ethics in dogmatics. Yet ethics can be carried out from within dogmatics
only to the extent that dogmatics is capable of taking the form of ethics—a
capability which the first book simply presupposed. The viability of this
return move, from dogmatics to ethics, is the focus of this book, which thus
redresses the imbalance left by the first book. Striking the balance on such a
crucial aspect of Barth’s ethics seems to me to be a sufficient reason for con-
tributing another book to the topic. However, the major reason for not
remaining content with the first book is that in the ten or so years since its
publication I have changed my mind on the viability of the fundamental
Acknowledgments xv
claim of Barth’s ethics, which is that God’s grace in Jesus Christ is the norm
of human action. The Analogy of Grace endorsed this claim as a promising
one for theological ethics today. In contrast, Karl Barth’s Moral Thought
shows how this claim poses problems for Barth’s ethics at every turn and
concludes that it should not be taken up by the field today. This reassess-
ment implicates not only Barth’s ethics, but also his theology more gener-
ally, and it affects not only the interpretation of his ethics but also its
significance for the field of theological ethics, as he called it, or Christian
ethics or moral theology, as it is more commonly called today. It seemed,
therefore, to call for another book, and my final debt of gratitude is to the
University of Notre Dame for providing the intellectual and material setting
in which I have been able to devote a not insignificant portion of two
decades to the study of Barth’s ethics.
Contents
Abbreviations xix
1. Karl Barth’s Theological Ethics 1
2. The Command of God as a Moral Norm 25
3. The Command of God as a Morally Binding Norm 52
4. The Continuity of God’s Commands 78
5. Hearing God’s Command 108
6. Responsibility and the Moral Subject 126
7. Divine Action and Human Action 151
Conclusion 174
Bibliography 189
Index 195
Abbreviations
CCCC Karl Barth. “The Christian Community and the Civil Community.” In
Barth, Community, State and Church: Three Essays by Karl Barth with an
Introduction by David Haddorff. Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2004.
CD Karl Barth. Church Dogmatics, volumes I–IV. Edited by Geoffrey
M. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–69.
CL Karl Barth. The Christian Life: Church Dogmatics IV/4, Lecture Fragments.
Translated by Geoffrey M. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981.
E Karl Barth. Ethics. Translated by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. New York: Seabury
Press, 1981.
EET Karl Barth, Einführung in die evangelische Theologie. Zürich: Evangelischer
Verlag Zürich, 1962.
ET Karl Barth. Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. Translated by Grover
Foley. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1963.
GF Karl Barth. “The Gift of Freedom.” In Karl Barth, The Humanity of God.
Translated by Thomas Wieser. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1960, pp. 69–96.
GL “Gospel and Law.” In Community, State, and Church: Three Essays by Karl
Barth with a New Introduction by David Haddorff (Eugene: Wipf and
Stock, 2004.
ICR John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion. Edited by John T. McNeill
and translated by Ford Lewis Battles. Library of Christian Classics, vol.
XX. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960.
KD Karl Barth. Die kirchliche Dogmatik, vier Bände. Zollikon-
Zürich:
Evangelischer Verlag Zürich, 1945–67.
PD Karl Barth. “Political Decisions in the Unity of Faith.” In Karl Barth,
Against the Stream: Shorter Post-War Writings, 1946–52. Edited and trans-
lated by Ronald Gregor Smith. London: SCM Press, 1954, pp. 147–64.
PET “The Problem of Ethics Today, 1922.” In Barth, The Word of God and
Theology. Translated by Amy Marga. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2011.
PTNC Karl Barth, Protestant Theology in the Nineteenth Century: Its Background
and History. London: SCM Press, 1972.
RWB Immanuel Kant. Religion with the Boundaries of Mere Reason: And Other
Writings, 2nd edition. Edited and translated by Allen Wood and George di
Giovanni. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018.
1
Karl Barth’s Theological Ethics
An account of Karl Barth’s moral thought must begin with the fact that
his theological ethics is a version of divine command ethics. From the 1920s
to the end of his career Barth consistently affirmed a version of the defining
thesis of divine command ethics, asserting that “[t]he good of human action
consists in the fact that it is determined by the divine command,”1 and he
introduces his theological ethics in the Church Dogmatics as “the doctrine
of the command of God.”2 However, an account of Barth’s moral thought
must also recognize the profound differences between his version of divine
command ethics and the versions that have been formulated by philosophers
such as Robert Adams, C. Stephen Evans, John Hare, and Philip Quinn, and
theologians such as Richard Mouw.3 What distinguishes his version from
theirs is his identification of the command of God with the Word of God,
which as Barth defines it is the revelation and work of God’s grace in Jesus
Christ. In the Word of God, God declares to those whom God addresses
what God does for them in Jesus Christ (gospel). Precisely as the work of
God’s grace, what God does for human beings in Jesus Christ is final,
requiring no supplemental act on the part of other humans, and it is suffi
cient, leaving nothing undone. However, grace would not be grace, and the
gospel would not be good news, if it merely terminated in what God does,
leaving its beneficiaries to passively receive God’s goodness to them rather
than inviting them to active participation in it. “As the one Word of God
which is the revelation and work of his grace reaches us, its aim is [ist es
1 CD II/2, p. 547; see also E, p. 50, and CL, p. 3. Most proponents of divine command ethics
would substitute the word ‘right’ for ‘good’ but for Barth, as we will see in Chapter 3, it is the
good that obligates us and thus confronts us as the right.
2 CD II/2, p. 509.
3 See Robert Merrihew Adams, Finite and Infinite Goods: A Framework for Ethics (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1999); C. Stephen Evans, God and Moral Obligation (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2013); John E. Hare, God’s Command (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2015); Philip Quinn, Divine Commands and Moral Requirements (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1978); Richard Mouw, The God Who Commands: A Study in Divine Command Ethics
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1990).
Karl Barth’s Moral Thought. Gerald McKenny, Oxford University Press. © Gerald McKenny 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192845528.003.0001
2 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought
auf . . . abgesehen] the conformity of our being and action with his.”4 At every
point, therefore, the same Word of God that declares what God does also
claims its addressees as those for whom God so acts, summoning, directing,
and empowering them to be in their own conduct what they already are by
virtue of God’s conduct toward them (law). This claim made by the Word of
God is the command of God.
The claim that what God does for us in Jesus Christ is also what God
commands, that gospel takes the form of law, is the most distinctive feature
of Barth’s theological ethics. Typically in the Christian tradition, divine laws
or commandments reveal what is required of us while grace forgives our
failure to do what is required of us and assists us in doing what is pleasing to
God. Barth reverses this relationship of law and grace out of a conviction
that from eternity God has chosen human beings to be those to whom God
is gracious in Jesus Christ (grace) and claimed them to live as those so cho
sen (law). This chapter unpacks that conviction, first examining it as the
very subject matter of theological ethics, then turning to Barth’s distinction
between general and special ethics, and finally considering whether it is
adequate to our being as creatures.
Before turning to the subject matter of theological ethics, a preliminary
word is in order. This book claims that Barth’s theological ethics is an
account of morally good action. The purpose of this chapter is to establish
Barth’s claim that the norm of human action is God’s grace to us in Jesus
Christ—that the law is the form of the gospel, or that ethics is dogmatics.
The following chapters consider what it means to say that this norm is a
moral norm and that theological ethics is therefore an account of morally
good action—in other words, that dogmatics is ethics.
The Subject Matter of Theological Ethics
If the command of God is the Word of God, it is clear what work theological
ethics will undertake: “The task of theological ethics is to understand the
Word of God as the command of God.”5 But what exactly is the Word of
God that is to be understood as God’s command? And what exactly does
the Word of God, so understood, command? To begin with the Word of
God: Fundamentally and comprehensively, what God reveals in Jesus Christ
is that God is with us and for us. “God has given us himself. . . . He has made
4 CD II/2, p. 512/KD II/2, p. 567 (translation revised). See also CD II/2, pp. 566f.
5 CD III/4, p. 4.
Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 3
himself ours . . . . He is for us in all his deity. Although he could be without

us—he did not and does not will to be without us. Although he has every
right to be against us—he did not and does not will to be against us.”6 This,
in a nutshell, is the Word of God that is also to be understood as God’s
command. To understand it as God’s command can only mean that God
commands us to conduct ourselves, toward God and toward other humans,
as those whom God is with and for. All that God commands will in some
way specify this basic requirement. “He is to know and accept the fact that
God is for him. He is to live as one whom God is for. Whatever the concrete
content of the command of God may be, this is what God will have of man.”7
God for Us
At this point three further questions arise. First, what does it mean to say
that God is for us in this radical sense (that is, in all God’s deity)? Second, if
the command of God confronts us with what God has done for us, and not
what we must do for ourselves, in what sense is it a genuine command?
Third, what does it mean to act as those whom God is with and for in this
way? Barth’s answer to the first question is indicated by the words that fill in
the second ellipsis in the quote above. “With his divine goodness,” Barth
writes, “he has taken our place and taken up our cause.” That God is for us
does not mean merely that God supports us and our cause, helping us along
and promoting it. That is, roughly speaking, what God does according to
theological ethicists who stress the role of God’s grace in bringing our natural
inclinations or capacities to fulfillment or perfection.8 By contrast, Barth holds
that God takes up our cause and makes it God’s own by acting in our place
in the human being, Jesus Christ. As God in Jesus Christ acts in our place in
this way, we are constituted as subjects in Jesus Christ, and not in ourselves.
“The man to whom the Word of God is directed and for whom the work of
God was done . . . does not exist by himself. He is not an independent sub
ject, to be considered independently . . . . He exists because Jesus Christ
exists. He exists as a predicate of this Subject, i.e., that which has been
6 CD II/2, p. 557. 7 CD II/2, p. 596.

8 For exemplary versions of this eudaimonist approach to grace, see especially Jennifer Herdt,
Putting on Virtue; Stephen J. Pope, The Evolution of Altruism and the Ordering of Love
(Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1994); Pope, Human Evolution and Christian
Ethics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007); Jean Porter, The Recovery of Virtue: The
Relevance of Aquinas for Christian Ethics (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1990); and
Porter, Nature as Reason: A Thomistic Theory of the Natural Law (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005).
decided and is real for man in this Subject is true for him.” As this holds for
us as addressees of the Word of God as such, it also holds for us as the same
Word of God addresses us as God’s command. “Therefore the divine com
mand as it is directed to him, as it applies to him, consists in his relationship
to this Subject. Therefore the action of this Subject for him is the right
action or conduct which we have to investigate.”9
Because theological ethics “understands man from the very outset as
addressed by God”—that is, “from the eternal grace of God as it has eventu
ated in time”10—Barth grounds this theme in the action of Jesus Christ for
us and in our place in the eternal and temporal event of God’s covenant
with humanity. As God both chooses us and claims us as God’s chosen, this
covenant consists of both election (choice) and sanctification (claim).
According to Barth, the covenant is decreed by God from eternity in Jesus
Christ and executed in time in him. From eternity and in time, then, Jesus
Christ is both (1) the electing God who determines to be God with and for
humanity and (2) the elected human whom God has determined to be the
one whom God is with and for, and he is both (1) the sanctifying God who
claims the elect as those whom God is with and for and (2) the sanctified
human who fulfills this claim by existing as one whom God is with and for
in all that he is and does. It is in this eternal and temporal act that God in
Jesus Christ takes the place and takes up the cause of other humans, who are
both elected and sanctified in him. In Barth’s words, “the Word and work of
divine election . . . has taken place and been revealed in Jesus Christ. This
Word and work of God as such is also the sanctification of man, the estab
lishment and revelation of the divine law. What right conduct is for man is
determined absolutely in the right conduct of God. It is determined in Jesus
Christ. He is the electing God and elected man in One. But he is also the
sanctifying God and sanctified man in One. In His person God has acted
rightly towards us. And in the same person man has also acted rightly for
us.”11 This is what it means to say that God is with and for us.
God’s Command as Requirement
This strong claim about what God has done for us in Jesus Christ poses the
second question: If Jesus Christ obeys God’s command for us and in our
9 CD II/2, pp. 539f. 10 CD II/2, p. 547. 11 CD II/2, pp. 538f.

place, in what sense is that command addressed to us, and what could it
legitimately require of us? It seems to speak only of what Jesus Christ has
done in our place. How, then, can it address us and require something of us?
Barth’s answer is that the command of God is addressed to us as having
already been fulfilled in our place by Jesus Christ, and it requires us to con
firm by our own conduct what we already are by virtue of its fulfillment.
With this claim we arrive at the subject matter (Sache) of theological ethics,
which is “the Word and work of God in Jesus Christ, in which the right
action of man has already been performed and therefore waits only to be
confirmed by our action.”12 To summarize: To understand the Word of God
as the command of God (the task of theological ethics) is to hold that what
God commands us to do is to confirm in our action the right human action
that has already been performed for us by Jesus Christ, who as the elect and
sanctified human takes our place and takes up our cause, fulfilling God’s
designation of the elect to be in their conduct those whom God is with and
for (the subject matter of theological ethics). We are therefore to be in our
own conduct—that is, in the actuality of our existence as acting subjects—
what we are by virtue of God’s conduct toward us in him—that is, in the
reality of our being in God’s grace.
Human Action as Correspondence to Grace
What exactly does it mean to confirm in our conduct what we are by virtue
of Jesus Christ’s conduct for us and in our place? This is our third question,
concerning what it means to act as those whom God is with and for. As we
saw in the opening paragraph, God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ has an aim,
which is the conformity of our actions to grace.13 But how do our actions
conform to grace? They conform to grace by corresponding to it. “God’s
action is that He is gracious, and man in his action is committed to corre
spondence with this action.”14 Barth’s “targum” on Matthew 5:48 clarifies
what is involved in the correspondence of our actions to grace: “Be ye (liter
ally, ye shall be) therefore perfect (literally, directed to your objective), even
as (i.e., corresponding to it in creaturely-human fashion) your Father which
is in heaven is perfect (directed to his objective).”15 On the one hand, in
view of the rest of Matthew 5–7, to confirm God’s conduct toward us in our
12 CD II/2, p. 543/KD II/2, p. 603. 13 CD II/2, pp. 512, 566f.

14 CD II/2, p. 576. 15 CD II/2, p. 512.
own conduct will mean acting toward others as God has acted toward us.
“Our aim must correspond to the distinctive aim of the Father in heaven . . . .”
God’s command will therefore require us to forgive one another, bear one
another’s burdens, look to the things of others rather than our own things,
love our enemies, and so forth.16 In these actions we confirm what God is
and does for us by exhibiting it in our conduct toward others. By virtue of
their direct correspondence to God’s grace toward us in Jesus Christ, actions
such as these may be said to enjoy a kind of paradigmatic status.17 And they
suggest that Barth’s doctrine of the command of God is a version of divine
exemplarist ethics according to which good human actions image God,
reflecting God’s actions towards human beings.18
On the other hand, however, Barth emphasizes that the required action
“will be our action, a human action,” and thus one that differs from God’s
action toward us. Our action corresponds to God’s action as a characteristi
cally human action; it is not itself a divine action in any sense. It will not try
to do again what God in Jesus Christ has already done for us and in our
place. “Neither for ourselves nor for others can we do the good which God
does for us.” The action God commands will therefore be a human analogue
of grace, similar to yet different from what Jesus Christ does for us and in
our place. “It will have to attest and confirm the great acts of God, but it will
not be able to continue or repeat them.”19 What God has done is final and
efficacious and needs no continuation or supplement. For Barth, Jesus
Christ acts for us and in our place; his conduct is therefore not a direct rule
or standard for our conduct.20 This point qualifies but does not nullify the
divine exemplarist character of Barth’s doctrine of the command of God.
16 CD II/2, p. 578.
17 Barth’s position thus resembles those of Stanley Hauerwas and John Yoder, for whom
ethics as ecclesial witness to Jesus is also paradigmatically expressed in actions like these—a
witness Yoder betrayed in his sexual violence against women. See Stanley Hauerwas, The
Peaceable Kingdom; and John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus: Vicit Agnus Noster (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972). On Yoder’s sexual violence, see Rachel Waltner Goosen, “Defanging
the Beast: Mennonite Responses to John Howard Yoder’s Sexual Abuse,” Mennonite Quarterly
Review 89 (2015): 7–80.
18 That we image God in our action is an important theme of John Calvin, who may also be
said to have affirmed a divine exemplarist account of ethics. See Calvin, ICR 2.8.51, p. 415. The
same theme appears in Philip Melanchthon’s Loci Communes of 1555. See Melanchthon,
Melanchthon on Christian Doctrine: Loci Communes 1555, Clyde L. Manschreck, tr. and ed.
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1965), pp. 84, 125.
19 CD II/2, pp. 577f.; see also pp. 696f.
20 In his insistence on this point, Barth differs from Hauerwas and Yoder and those who
follow them.
Barth’s understanding of our action as correspondence to God’s action in

which we confirm what God has done for us and in our place in Jesus Christ
may be described in characteristically Reformed terms: By our conduct in
analogy to what God has done for us, we image God, reflecting God’s action
in our own and thereby glorifying God; we exercise our designation as
God’s elect to be those whom God is with and for; and we give concrete
confirmation or proof of our election.21 However, while the account that
has just been given captures the core of the subject matter of Barth’s theo
logical ethics, it is far from complete. It has accounted only for those of our
actions that correspond to God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ in an especially
direct way, namely, those actions that have to do with our status as God’s
elect. But actions such as these do not exhaust the confirmation of grace in
our conduct. Those whom God elects from eternity in Jesus Christ, God
also brings into existence as creatures, reconciles to God as sinners, and
makes heirs of redemption. God is for us in Jesus Christ in a multitude of
ways that are not limited to election but encompass our entire being as crea
tures, reconciled sinners, and heirs of redemption, and the command of
God accordingly summons, directs, and empowers us to correspond to
God’s grace in all our actions as creatures, reconciled sinners, and heirs of
redemption. This point brings us to Barth’s distinction between general and
special ethics.
General and Special Ethics
The Word of God is also the command of God. Gospel is also law. God’s
grace to human beings in Jesus Christ is also the norm or standard of human
conduct. These equivalent expressions are the fundamental claim of Barth’s
ethics, and the foregoing account of the task and subject matter of theologi
cal ethics has clarified it. Barth establishes this claim in §36 of the Church
Dogmatics and elaborates its meaning and implications in the remaining
sections of the Church Dogmatics that are devoted to ethics: first as “general
ethics” in §§37–9 and then as “special ethics” in §§52–6 and §75 (to which
the unfinished §§74, 76–8, posthumously published as The Christian Life,
may be added). The task of general ethics is “to understand and present the
21 On our action as the image of God in which God recognizes God and God’s own action,
see CD II/2, p. 575. On our action as glorification of God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ, see CD
II/2, p. 540. And on our action as confirmation or proof of our election, see CD II/2, p. 512.
Word of God as the subject which claims us,” that is, “as the command
which sanctifies man.”22 General ethics examines “the fact and extent that
sanctification and therefore good human action are effected by God in His
command.”23 In particular, it examines the command of God as God’s claim
which has authority with regard to our conduct (§37), God’s decision which
decides concerning the right or wrong (or good or evil) of our conduct
(§38), and God’s judgment which confirms that we belong to God in our
conduct (§39). By contrast, special ethics inquires “concerning sanctifica
tion as it comes to man from the God who acts towards him in His com
mand, concerning the good which is real and recognisable in his action
under the command of God.”24 In short, while general ethics examines how
the command of God confronts human action, and human beings in their
action, as its norm or standard, special ethics examines what the same com
mand of God determines with regard to concrete human acts as it confronts
human beings as the command of the Creator to the creature, the Reconciler
to the reconciled sinner, and the Redeemer to the heir of redemption.
In both general and special ethics, what it means to say that the com
mand of God is the norm of human action is determined by its context in
the covenant of God with human beings in Jesus Christ.25 Fundamental to
Barth’s notion of God’s command is that it takes place in (and with election
constitutes) this covenant of grace in which God is God with and for human
beings and human beings are those whom God is with and for. In general
ethics this context is operative in Barth’s description of the command as an
encounter between God and the human being as the divine and human
partners in the covenant of grace. General ethics shows “that this command
22 CD II/2, p. 546. 23 CD III/4, p. 4. 24 CD III/4, p. 5.

25 Barth’s particular conception of this covenant and its central place in his theology mark
his distinctive place in the Reformed tradition of Protestantism, where a principal concern of
his was to assert the consistency of the priority and sufficiency of God’s grace in God’s dealings
with God’s people against the tendency of Reformed theology to distinguish covenants of grace
and of works. Barth’s conception of the covenant and its centrality to his theology involves
complexities and problems that fall outside the scope of this chapter. Among the problems are
that, like every Christian version of this biblical theme, it raises vexing (and historically not at
all innocent) questions regarding the validity of the Sinai covenant and the status of the Jewish
people. In lieu of the lengthy treatment this issue demands, I will simply assert as plausible the
view that, despite its many problems and ambiguities, Barth’s position denies that the covenant
with Israel has been superseded and recognizes the continued existence of the Jewish people as
a crucial sign of God’s providence. See especially CD III/3, 210–26; CD IV/1, 22–34. The vast
secondary literature on the topic includes Mark R. Lindsay, Barth, Israel, and Jesus: Karl Barth’s
Theology of Israel (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007); and Katherine Sonderegger, That Jesus Christ
Was Born a Jew: Karl Barth’s “Doctrine of Israel” (University Park: The Pennsylvania State
University Press, 1992).
of God is an event,” not establishing that “there is [es gibt] a command of

God,” which would imply that what God commands has been given in a
moral law or in a created order, but rather “that God gives [Gott . . . gibt] His
command, that He gives Himself to be our Commander.” As we will see in
Chapter 4, Barth deviates from the historical mainstream of theological eth
ics by denying that God’s command is lodged in the permanence of the
moral law or the created order. Rather, in commanding and obeying, God
and human beings enact the covenant of grace as a living one in which the
human being who is addressed by God’s command is not simply provided
with the factual knowledge about good or right conduct that may be derived
from a moral law or created order but “is brought into that confrontation
and fellowship with Jesus Christ” that constitutes the covenant relationship
as the personal encounter of the God who is with and for humans and the
human whom God is with and for.26
The covenant context of God’s command is no less decisive for special
ethics. According to Barth, the covenant of grace unfolds as a history, with
creation as its presupposition which comprises the permanent conditions
under which the history will unfold, reconciliation as the fulfillment of the
covenant of grace in the face of its rejection by its human partner, and
redemption which brings the fellowship of human beings with God to com
pletion. These divine works of creation, reconciliation, and redemption
“have in view the institution, preservation, and execution of the covenant of
grace, for partnership in which [God] has predestined and called man.”27
The event in which God addresses God’s command is therefore not an iso
lated event but is an occurrence in a history, while this history is the unfold
ing of the event.28
The crucial point is that the encounter of the divine and human covenant
partners, in which, as described in general ethics, God’s command is
addressed and heard, is always at the same time an encounter of the Creator
and the creature, the Reconciler and the reconciled sinner, and the
Redeemer and the heir of redemption. Special ethics considers God’s com
mand as it determines the particular human acts that actualize the covenant
of grace in each of these three relationships or “spheres.” Thus, the norm
that governs all three spheres is the grace of God in Jesus Christ in its form
as God’s command, which is the encounter of the divine and human part
ners in the covenant of grace. Although it is differentiated into these three
26 CD II/2, p. 548. 27 CD III/1 p. 43. 28 CD III/4, pp. 26–31.

spheres with their distinctive relationships between the divine and human
partners in the covenant of grace, the command of God that addresses
human beings in these three spheres is the same command in three forms.
In each of these spheres it is always the case that the command of God is the
Word of God while the Word of God is the revelation and work of God’s
grace to us in Jesus Christ. We may therefore think of God’s commands in
the three spheres as non-identical repetitions of the one command of God’s
grace. They are non- identical insofar as creation, reconciliation, and
redemption are distinct works of God in which Jesus Christ is with and for
us in different ways. Yet in each of these ways he is with and for us, and the
actions God commands are actions by which we confirm in our conduct
what God has done for us and in our place in Jesus Christ. It follows that in
addition to the actions that directly correspond to God’s grace to us in Jesus
Christ, which were named in the previous section, there are actions that
correspond, respectively, to God’s grace to us as creatures, reconciled sin
ners, and heirs of redemption. These actions are the subject matter of the
command of God the Creator (Church Dogmatics §§53–6) and of God the
Reconciler (Church Dogmatics §75, along with the incomplete and posthu
mously published §§74, 76–8). Barth says surprisingly little about what God
actually commands as Creator and Reconciler. Instead he provides detailed
descriptions of the spheres of creation and reconciliation which serve as a
“reference,” “an ethical lead,” or “a series of directives” instructing us in what
actions God will command in each sphere.29
Grace, Command, and Creation
According to Barth, then, God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ is the norm of

our action as creatures, reconciled sinners, and heirs of redemption. But
here Barth’s departure from the mainstream of theological ethics poses a
momentous question: Is it plausible to claim that grace is the norm of our
action as creatures? That grace is the norm of our action as reconciled sin
ners is uncontroversial. The claim that Jesus Christ acts for us and in our
place as sinners who are incapable of acting for ourselves and in our own
place is a defensible one, as is the claim that as reconciled sinners we are to
conduct ourselves as those whom Jesus Christ has acted for and whose
29 CD III/4, pp. 30f.

place he has taken. But can we say the same thing of the creature as we say
of the sinner? Does Jesus Christ take the place of human beings not only as
sinners but also as creatures? Is the human being as creature in the same
condition as the human being as sinner, unable to act for herself and in her
own place? Does the insistence that God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ is the
norm of our action as creatures leave creation without any ethical content of
its own? These questions express the suspicion that Barth denies creation its
distinctive status as God’s work and in effect absorbs it into reconciliation. If
that is the result of his claim about grace as the norm of our action as creatures,
it surely disqualifies his theological ethics from serious consideration.
Any attempt to show how Barth avoids that result must begin by
acknowledging his insistence that God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ is indeed
the norm of our action as creatures, and not only as reconciled sinners. The
Leitsatz to §52 of the Church Dogmatics, which introduces the command of
God the Creator, announces that “the one command of the one God who is
gracious to man in Jesus Christ is also the command of his Creator and
therefore already the sanctification of the creaturely action and abstention
of man.”30 Elaborating this claim, Barth emphasizes that the grace of God to
us in Jesus Christ is both the ontological and the epistemological ground of
both the command of the Creator itself and the creaturely action and
abstention that is sanctified by this command.31 In other words, the content
of the ethics of creation is knowable from the grace of God to us in Jesus
Christ (epistemological ground) and is determined by God’s grace to us in
Jesus Christ (ontological ground). Ruled out is every attempt to formulate
norms of our conduct as creatures on the basis of something that is inde
pendent of God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ. In contrast to much of the his
tory of theological ethics, reason, human nature, and cosmic order are on
this principle all excluded as grounds of the norms of our conduct as
creatures.
How, then, does Barth avoid reducing the ethics of creation to the ethics
of reconciliation? The answer lies in his understanding of the relationship of
creation to the covenant of grace. Barth emphasizes that the covenant of
grace that has been realized by God in time in Jesus Christ was also resolved
by God from eternity in him. The covenant of grace therefore precedes cre
ation, and God brings creation into existence to realize the covenant. “It is
not, then, the case that God first determined Himself as Creator, then made
30 CD III/4, p. 3. 31 CD III/4, pp. 38–43.

man His creature, and only then in a later development and decision elected
man and instituted His covenant with him.”32 Rather, the covenant of grace
that God resolves from eternity and realizes in time is the reason there is a
creation at all. God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ, then, is not restricted to the
reconciliation of sinners. It is at the same time, and in the same act, the
realization of what God resolved from eternity and for which God brought
human creatures into existence. And if creation was brought into existence
in order for God to be gracious to human beings in Jesus Christ, it is clear
why grace must govern the ethics of creation just as it does the ethics of
reconciliation.
However, the answer is not yet complete. To establish the claim that grace
is the norm of the life of the creature as such, and not only of the reconciled
sinner, Barth must explain in what sense God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ is
the command of the Creator to the creature. In what sense is grace the con
tent of the command of God the Creator, and how does it sanctify creaturely
action and abstention? If what God commands as Creator is the grace of
God to us in Jesus Christ, what is it that marks this command as one that
issues from God as Creator and addresses us as the creatures we are? To
answer these questions Barth must (1) identify characteristics of our crea
turely being with respect to which commands of God the Creator address
us as creatures, and (2) explain how the commands that concern those char
acteristics are epistemologically and ontologically determined by God’s
grace to us in Jesus Christ, and not by anything inherent in those character
istics themselves. The remainder of this section explains how Barth meets
these two requisites by placing creation in the history of the covenant
of grace.
Creation as External Ground of the Covenant
The first requisite is met by Barth’s claim that the characteristics God brings
into existence with our creation are characteristics that equip us for the cov
enant of grace. According to Barth, what God brings into existence in the
work of creation is the presupposition of the history of the covenant of
grace; that is, the set of conditions under which God will realize the cove
nant in time.33 Among these conditions are the characteristics of the human
32 CD III/4, p. 39. 33 CD III/1, pp. 42, 44.

creature. The human being whom God brings into existence in creation is
the being whom God has chosen in Jesus Christ for covenant fellowship
with God, and God accordingly endows this being with characteristics that
suit it for this fellowship. Precisely as the creatures they are, human beings
are ordered to grace. The covenant of grace “does not start only with man’s
reconciliation and redemption, but already with his creation. As God in his
Son elected man from all eternity to fellowship with himself, he ordained
that he should be this being [Wesen], existing in this reality [Wesenheit].”34
“He created him as his covenant-partner,” Barth asserts; the human crea
ture, as the creature it is, is “determined by God for life with God.”35 The
characteristics that comprise our nature, then, are precisely those that equip
us to be God’s partner in the covenant of grace. “There is no existence of the
creature in which it can originally belong elsewhere than to this compact. It
has no attributes, no conditions of existence, no substantial or accidental
predicates of any kind, in virtue of which it can or may or must be alien to
the Founder of this covenant . . . . By its whole nature [Natur] the creature is
destined and disposed for this covenant . . . .”36 In short, our creaturely char
acteristics are created by God to equip us for the grace of God to us in Jesus
Christ that is God’s purpose in creating us. In Barth’s nomenclature, cre
ation is the external ground of the covenant of grace.
This point may be taken a step further. As we have seen, God has resolved
from eternity to be gracious to us in Jesus Christ, and in Jesus Christ God
has realized that resolution in time. The human creature, then, is brought
into existence not only as the creature that is determined from eternity for
covenant fellowship with God in Jesus Christ, but as the creature for whom
Jesus Christ fulfills this determination. We may now say more specifically
that the characteristics of the human creature are those that equip it for
34 CD III/4, pp. 42f./KD III/4, pp. 46f. (emphasis added). 35 CD III/2, p. 203.
36 CD III/1, pp. 96f./KD III/1, pp. 105f. A corollary of this view is that we live our covenant
fellowship with God and one another by exercising our creaturely characteristics and capacities
in their natural form, as God created them, without any need for a supernatural extension of
them. Because we are God’s covenant partners in our creaturely nature, God’s further works of
reconciliation and redemption do not impart new or different qualities that extend our human
capacities beyond their creaturely capabilities (see especially CD I/2, p. 375; CD IV/2, pp. 556f.;
CD IV/4, p. 5). Of course, covenant fellowship with God and other humans is constituted by
God’s grace and is thus established and maintained by God apart from our action. To possess
the capacities that equip us for fellowship with God is not to possess the capability of attaining
the latter. But it is in the active exercise of those created capacities that human beings enjoy
fellowship with God, as these capacities are enabled by the Holy Spirit without any supernatu
ral addition or extension. What God commands will always be a natural act in which our natu
ral characteristics and capacities are exercised, albeit in a manner that is possible only by the
working of grace.
Jesus Christ to act in its place.37 In his doctrine of the human creature, Barth
accordingly identifies three basic characteristics of our creaturely being—
namely, relationality, body- soul composition, and temporality—and
demonstrates how each characteristic enables God to be with and for us and
to act in our place in Jesus Christ.38 The characteristic of relationality most
readily illustrates this point. Relationality is the being-with-one-another of
human beings. It is because the being of humans is being-with-one-another
that Jesus Christ can be a human being with and for other human beings.39
Relationality is thus a characteristic of our creaturely being that equips us
for the covenant of grace by providing the creaturely condition for Jesus
Christ to be with us and for us. And as it is with relationality, so it is with the
other two basic characteristics: In their distinctive ways our body-soul com
position and our temporality also equip us for God to act in our place in
Jesus Christ.
A final step is taken with Barth’s claim that the creaturely characteristics
created by God to equip us for the covenant of grace bear a likeness or
resemblance to that covenant. “Even in his . . . human nature, man cannot be
man without being directed to and prepared for the fulfillment of his deter
mination, his being in the grace of God, by his correspondence and similar
ity to this determination for the covenant with God.”40 Once again, the
characteristic of relationality provides the most straightforward illustration
of this correspondence and similarity, though in this case the illustration is
unfortunately a problematic one. For Barth, relationality has as its paradig
matic form the relationship of man and woman in general and the marriage
relationship in particular. These relationships are said by Barth to be crea
turely reflections of the covenant of grace, as indeed they are often found to
be in Scripture, where they are taken to correspond to the relationships of
37 As such, anthropology is determined by Christology. Just as Jesus’ “being [Sein] as a man

is as such that which posits and therefore reveals and explains human nature with all its possi
bilities” (CD III/2, p. 59/KD III/2, p. 69) and “to be one with God in the accomplishment of
[his] work is the being [Sein] of this man” (CD III/2, p. 63/KD III/2, pp. 73f.), so it is analo
gously with other human beings: their being consists in being the ones for whom Jesus’ work is
done (which is to say that it consists in their being as partners in the covenant of grace), and
their being, so understood, reveals and explains their nature with all its possibilities, which are
revealed and explained as presuppositions of the covenant of grace. On its surface, at least, this
Christology, in which Jesus’ being as his oneness with God differs from our being as being with
Jesus, while his nature is identical to our nature, appears to be an Apollonarian Christology. A
critique of it is outside the scope of this chapter. But insofar as the Conclusion to this chapter
rejects the ontological priority of the covenant of grace to the creature, it also rejects this deter
mination of anthropology by Christology—or at least its determination by this Christology.
38 CD III/2, pp. 203–640. 39 CD III/2, pp. 222f. 40 CD III/2, p. 207.
God with Israel and Christ with the church.41 In general, to say that
creaturely characteristics equip us for the covenant grace is for Barth to say
that they bear a certain likeness to it. The grace of God in Jesus Christ
comes to a creature whose characteristics are analogues of grace, created as
creaturely likenesses of grace.
We have been considering how the command of God’s grace to us in
Jesus Christ can be the command of the Creator to the creature, and it is
now clear how Barth meets the first requisite, which calls for the identifica
tion of the creaturely characteristics with respect to which God commands
us. Those characteristics are the creaturely conditions of the covenant of
grace that equip us for that covenant. God’s command as Creator requires in
every case an action that instantiates one or more of these characteristics.
And because these characteristics equip us for grace by virtue of their simi
larity or correspondence to grace, the action God commands as the instan
tiation of these characteristics will be an action that corresponds to grace.
At the end of the first section of this chapter we saw in the case of general
ethics that what God’s command requires is an action that corresponds
directly to God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ. We now see in the case of the
ethics of creation that whatever God commands will be a characteristically
creaturely action that indirectly corresponds to grace by instantiating a
creaturely condition of grace. It is important to stress that the correspond
ence is indirect. The actions considered in the first section, which include
forgiving others and loving our enemies, are actions God also performs.
When we do the same actions in a characteristically human way, our actions
directly correspond to grace. By contrast, the actions that instantiate crea
turely characteristics such as relationality—the actions, for example, that
constitute a marriage—are not actions God also performs, and their corre
spondence to grace is therefore indirect. Yet they do correspond to grace,
and so grace is confirmed in the life of the creature and the analogy of grace
governs Barth’s special ethics just as it governs his general ethics.
41 See CD III/4, pp. 117, 149f., 197f., and especially 215f., where it is clear that the analogy
that links marriage with the covenant of grace is decisive for the normative significance of
marriage. To take the man-woman and marriage relationships as my example is not to endorse
what Barth says about God’s command regarding them. Here and in what follows I use them as
my example because of their clarity in exhibiting Barth’s understanding of the ethics of cre
ation. My understanding of the difficulties of this aspect of Barth’s doctrine of creation owes
much to a recent study by Faye Bodley-Dangelo. See her Sexual Difference, Gender, and Agency
in Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics (London: T&T Clark, 2019). On Barth’s troubling relation
ship with Charlotte von Kirschbaum, see Christiane Tietz, “Karl Barth and Charlotte von
Kirschbaum,” Theology Today 74 (2017): 86–111.
Covenant as Internal Ground of Creation
We are now ready to consider the second requisite, which calls for an expla
nation of how the commands of God regarding our creaturely characteris
tics are determined by the grace of God to us in Jesus Christ and not by
anything that is inherent in those characteristics themselves. We have just
seen that the human being is the creature who is determined by God for life
with God and that the relationality, body-soul composition, and temporal
ity that comprise its creaturely being are those characteristics that enable
Jesus Christ to be with and for this creature, having been created by God
precisely for that purpose.42 It is because these characteristics equip us for
grace that their normative content is not inherent in them but is determined
by grace. Covenant is the internal ground of creation. The norm of our life
as creatures is God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ; it is not to be found in these
characteristics themselves or in any feature of creation itself. Of course, our
created characteristics do have moral relevance insofar as they are that
about which God the Creator addresses commands to us. As we have just
seen, the actions God commands as Creator will always instantiate the rela
tional, body-soul, and temporal characteristics of our lives as creatures. But
no normative force inheres in these characteristics themselves, such that the
actions God commands as Creator may be identified with them or derived
from them.
This point brings us to one of the best-known and most controversial
aspects of Barth’s ethics, namely, his rejection of attempts to base special
ethics on so-called “orders of creation.” Orders of creation are permanent
forms or structures of creaturely life, typically taken to include marriage or
family, economy, government, and church, which were central to the
Lutheran and to some extent the Reformed theological ethics of Barth’s day.
Barth’s denial that the normative significance of our lives as creatures is
inherent in creaturely nature is a broad one which rules out every ethics of
creation that grounds moral norms in human characteristics or in a cosmic
or social order. But given his context, it is unsurprising that Barth singles
out for explicit criticism the appeal to orders of creation. Barth objects to
the claim that the norms that govern our lives as creatures are to be found in
42 To be precise, the being (Sein) of the human creature includes both the determination of
the human being for covenant partnership with God and the being of human beings with one
another (that is, their relationality). Body-soul composition and temporality are the constitu
tion (Beschaffenheit) of the being of the human, so understood; that is, its existence and nature
(Dasein and Sosein). See CD III/2, pp. 203–5, 325, 437/KD III/2, pp. 242–4, 391f., 524.
the alleged requisites of these forms or structures of human life in society.

The problem is that these forms or structures are held to have been estab
lished by God prior to and independent of God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ,
to be knowable by reason or experience apart from the self-revelation of
God in Jesus Christ, and to pertain to a creaturely life that is constituted
apart from the covenant of grace. Orders of creation have been criticized by
other theological ethicists for the ideological perversions to which they are
subject, insofar as they at least appear, and during Barth’s time were often
taken, to require unconditional obedience to existing forms of family life
and economic and political order, as well as for their tendency to naturalize
historically contingent social and political arrangements by identifying
them in their present forms with a permanent order created by God. Barth,
too, has these criticisms in view, but he focuses on what he takes to be the
theological mistake that underlies them. Orders of creation, he asserts,
imply “the familiar notion of a lex naturae which is immanent in reality and
inscribed upon the heart of man . . . .” That notion in turn implies, problem
atically, that there is a revelation of God and knowledge of God prior and in
addition to “that of [God’s] Word of grace” which, as we have seen, is the
content of the command of God the Creator.43 If we look to the orders of
creation for the norm of our creaturely life, we look away from God’s grace
to us in Jesus Christ.
As Barth sees it, to refer to aspects of our creaturely existence with regard
to which God issues commands as “orders” or (as Dietrich Bonhoeffer pre
ferred) “mandates” suggests that the norm of creaturely action is inherent in
those aspects.44 “Order” and “mandate” are normatively charged terms that
43 CD III/4, p. 20. Barth’s criticisms in his discussion of orders of creation are directed not at
the proponents of orders of creation whose accounts were implicated in German Christian
support for National Socialism, though he obviously rejects those accounts. His criticisms were
directed rather at Emil Brunner, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and the Danish theologian, N. H. Søe
(see CD III/4, pp. 19–23), all of whom, and especially the latter two, held views that were close
to Barth’s. Of these, only Brunner explicitly endorsed the term ‘orders’ (Ordnungen), and Barth
acknowledges the greater affinities of the positions of Bonhoeffer and Søe with his own posi
tion. Barth’s reservations about even these attempts to salvage something of the notion of
orders of creation indicates the strength of his determination to avoid any formulation of his
own position that would leave it susceptible to what (as we have just seen) he regarded as the
fundamental mistake of that approach to the ethics of creation.
44 Barth credits Bonhoeffer with articulating a position that is close to his own: one in
which the normative force and content of the mandates is found in the command of God and
not in the mandates themselves as independent of the command. “Bonhoeffer’s ‘mandates’ are
not laws somehow immanent in reality . . . . They do not emerge from reality; they descend into
it” (CD III/4, p. 22). Barth’s interpretation has strong textual support (see especially Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, Ethics: Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 6, ed. by Clifford J. Green, tr. by Reinhard
Krauss, Charles C. West, and Douglas W. Stott [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005], pp. 390f.).
for Barth are all too easily identified with the command of God itself. To
avoid any such confusion, Barth refers to normatively relevant aspects of
our creaturely existence in normatively neutral terms, as “constants
[Konstante]” or “constant relationships [konstanter Verhältnisse].”45 These
constants include features of the human creature we have already encoun
tered, namely, the determination of human beings for life with God as God’s
covenant partner and the three basic characteristics that equip human
beings for this covenant partnership (i.e., relationality, body-soul composi
tion, and temporality). They also include various constituents of all these
features. Thus, for example, relationality, which as we have seen is the char
acteristic by virtue of which our being is by nature being with one another,
equipping us for Jesus Christ to be with us, includes as its constituents three
forms of relationship: those of man and woman (mentioned above), parents
and children, and near and distant neighbors. Once again, on Barth’s view
these constants are the conditions of our created nature which equip us for
grace and with respect to which God the Creator commands us.46 Unlike
orders or mandates, they are not themselves imperatives or sources of
imperatives. We do not, for example, find the norms that govern the rela
tionship of man and woman in any alleged biological or phenomenological
requisites of sexual difference. These constants are rather aspects of our
creaturely life in which God’s command encounters us, requiring an act that
in some way instantiates one or more of these constants. What Barth says
about the three “macrospheres” of creation, reconciliation, and redemption
applies also to these constants, which comprise what will now be referred to
as “microspheres” within the sphere of creation: “They are spheres in which
But Bonhoeffer also refers to “intrinsic laws” of natural and social entities, including the state,
as well as “necessities of human life” that may conflict with these intrinsic laws (Ethics pp.
271–3). These references suggest that Bonhoeffer may be closer to those whose positions Barth
rejected.
45 CD III/4, p. 22/KD III/4, p. 23 (Verhältnisse emphasized in the German original).
Robin W. Lovin makes a similar move, speaking of “contexts” where Brunner spoke of orders
and Bonhoeffer of mandates. The contexts are Bonhoeffer’s four (or five) mandates: family,
work, government, church (and culture). For Lovin, they are “settings in which . . . the com
mand of God can be received in its immediacy and directness and specific goods . . . can be
created and maintained” (Lovin, Christian Realism and the New Realities [Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2008], pp. 100f.). Lovin differs from Barth in drawing his descrip
tions of the contexts from the various forms they take in history rather than from the Word of
God and in emphasizing the creating and maintaining of goods rather than the immediate and
direct command of God to instantiate them in particular actions.
46 The relationship to near and distant neighbors is a permanent condition only in a highly
qualified sense, as Barth is determined to break decisively with the tendency of early twentieth-
century proponents of orders of creation to include “people” (Volk) among these orders, which
had disastrous consequences in the 1930s and 1940s. See CD III/4, pp. 298–309.
God commands . . . but not laws according to which God commands . . . .”47
We cannot, then, expect to find what God commands by attending to the
relationships of, say, man and woman or parent and child themselves. Of
them we can only say that “the Word of God tells us that we exist in these
relationships and that it is in these very relationships that His command
always finds us . . . .”48 Living our creaturely life in these relationships, we
must hear what God commands regarding them in the event in which God
commands.
Barth is confident, however, that even though the particular action that
God commands with regard to these microspheres cannot be determined in
advance of the event in which God commands it, there is much that can be
known about what God will in fact command. We have already seen that
the actions God commands will correspond in a creaturely fashion to the
covenant of grace, providing analogues of grace. And we will see in
Chapter 4 how special ethics facilitates more precise determinations of what
God commands by articulating “the character” which God’s particular com
mands in the microspheres will always exhibit and “the standard” which
will always hold sway in the decisions made in them, thereby providing
“instructional preparation” for the event in which God’s actual command
regarding them is addressed.49 The point to stress in this chapter is that for
Barth, the source of knowledge of these microspheres, and of the character
and standards that always hold sway in them, is the Word of God rather
than any rational or experiential insight into those microspheres them
selves, which would lead us back to a norm that is inherent in them.
Barth accordingly presents his ethics of creation as an exposition of the
knowledge of the constants of creaturely life that is obtainable from the
Word of God. Chapter 4 develops this point further, but we may briefly con
sider it here, once again taking relationality as our example. Barth attempts
to state what can be known from the Word of God about the relationships
of man and woman, parent and child, and near and distant neighbors,
which together constitute relationality as a microsphere of the sphere of cre
ation. Knowledge of these and other microspheres is derived from the Word
of God in two senses. First, the mere fact that this microsphere is subject to
the command of God as its norm yields limited but significant knowledge of
its normative content. Thus, the fact that human beings are accountable to
God’s command in the relationships of man and woman or parent and child
47 CD III/4, pp. 29f. (italics added). 48 CD III/4, p. 22.

49 CD III/4, p. 18; see also p. 19.
has implications for their conduct in them. For example, the bare fact that
the relationship of man and woman stands under God’s command and is
accountable to it invalidates perspectives that divinize sexuality. From those
perspectives, the divine character of sexuality renders it unaccountable to
anything beyond itself. But insofar as sexuality is not divine but is rather
accountable to the divine command, it must be treated as an earthly reality
for which properly human responsibility must be taken.50 Second, although
the particular commands God addresses to us as creatures cannot be deter
mined in advance by special ethics or by any form of ethical inquiry, what
Scripture tells us about these microspheres enables us to know at a general
level what God the Creator will command. It tells us, for example, that mar
riage is permanent and that God will therefore command its dissolution
only in extraordinary cases.51 Both formally and materially, then, special
ethics derives knowledge of the character and standards that pertain to
these microspheres from the Word of God.52 The command of God the
Creator is knowable in its general contours, and Barth’s lengthy descriptions
of the microspheres of creation in Church Dogmatics §§53–6 provide
instructional preparation for hearing the particular commands God will
address to us regarding our conduct in these microspheres.
Summary
We may conclude this section with a concise statement of the sense in which
for Barth the grace of God to us in Jesus Christ is the norm of our action as
creatures. As the presupposition of the covenant of grace, creation consists
of the permanent conditions in which that covenant will unfold from cre
ation through reconciliation to redemption. These conditions are our crea
turely characteristics, created by God to equip us for the covenant of grace
(creation as the external ground of covenant), and their normative force
inheres not in them but in their determination by the covenant of grace
(covenant as the internal ground of creation). The constants of our life as
creatures are identified, and are to be understood, as our determination for
partnership with God in the covenant of grace, along with the characteristics
50 CD III/4, p. 129. 51 CD III/4, p. 211.

52 In the case of the relationship of man and woman, see CD III/4, pp. 119ff. for the formal
aspect (what can be known from the very fact that this relationship stands under the command
of God) and pp. 149ff. for the material aspect (what can be known in a general way about the
command of God regarding this relationship).
of our creaturely nature, namely, relationality, body-soul composition, and

temporality, that enable God to be with and for us in Jesus Christ. These
constants equip us for our covenant partnership as analogues of grace, and
it follows that the actions that instantiate them are themselves analogues of
grace. In obeying God’s commands that instantiate creaturely characteris
tics, we confirm God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ by performing creaturely
actions that indirectly correspond to grace.
It should now be clear that Barth does not absorb creation into reconcili
ation. As the presupposition of the covenant of grace, creation enjoys a sta
tus in that covenant that is distinct from that of the reconciliation of sinners.
It is also true, however, that as the presupposition of the covenant of grace,
creation is determined by the covenant of grace and has no normative status
independently of it. The question that remains is whether that determina
tion gives creation itself and the ethics of creation what is due to them. That
is a question for the Conclusion.
Conclusion
This chapter has clarified Barth’s fundamental claim that the norm of human
action is God’s grace to human beings in Jesus Christ—that the law is the
form of the gospel. It has also considered the most immediate challenge to
this claim, which is that it properly pertains to the ethics of reconciliation
but not to the ethics of creation. The following chapters will consider Barth’s
claim that the norm of human action, so understood, is a moral norm, and
that his theological ethics is accordingly an account of human moral action.
It remains for this Conclusion to consider the viability of the claim that the
norm of human action is God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ.
According to Barth, the “characteristic feature” of theological ethics is, as
we have seen, that “it understands man from the very outset as addressed by
God”; that is, “from the eternal grace of God as it has eventuated in time.”53
The command of God is resolved from eternity in Jesus Christ as the sancti
fying God and fulfilled in time by him as the sanctified human. It is
addressed to us from the site of its fulfillment in time, from where it
encounters us as the summons, direction, and empowerment to be in our
conduct what we already are in Jesus Christ, who has obeyed it in our place.
In this its characteristic feature, Barth’s theological ethics may be represented
53 CD II/2, p. 547.
as a vertical axis in which the command of God is settled upon from eter
nity in God’s eternal resolve, is realized in the heart of time as it is fulfilled
in our place by Jesus Christ, and is addressed to us in every moment of time,
in which its fulfillment in Jesus Christ calls for confirmation by our actions
in correspondence to it.54 In so confirming it, we become in our action what
we already are in God’s action for us in Jesus Christ. As we saw in the first
section above, these actions include forgiving one another, bearing one
another’s burdens, looking to the things of others rather than our own
things, and loving our enemies—actions in which there is a direct corre
spondence to God’s action for us in Jesus Christ. Yet in addition to its reso
lution from eternity, fulfillment in the heart of time, and address to human
beings at every moment of time, the command of God, as we have seen, is
also the sanctification of human action in the spheres of creation, reconcili
ation, and redemption. God’s commands in these three spheres enact the
history of the covenant of grace, which unfolds with creation as its presup
position, reconciliation as its fulfillment in the face of our sinful rejection of
it, and redemption as its final consummation. Here, Barth’s theological eth
ics may be represented as a horizontal line in which the one command of
God is addressed to us in the relationships of Creator and creature,
Reconciler and reconciled sinner, and Redeemer and heir of redemption
that form the structure of the history of the covenant of grace. And, as we
have seen, the microspheres of these three spheres are so structured that
they reflect the covenant of grace, as was noted in the controversial and in
many respects problematic cases of the man-woman and marriage relation
ships, so that the actions God the Creator commands in these microspheres
also correspond to grace, though indirectly.
Nothing is more distinctive of, or fateful for, Barth’s theological ethics
than the way the first two points on the vertical axis determine the horizon
tal axis. The command of God is established in its resolution from eternity
in Jesus Christ and its fulfillment in the heart of time in him. And it is the
command of God that is established in this way that addresses human
beings as creatures, reconciled sinners, and heirs of redemption, sanctifying
their action on the horizontal axis and thereby executing the history of the
covenant of grace. To say that the eternal resolve and temporal fulfillment of
God’s command determines the horizontal axis is to say three things. First,
it is to say that Jesus Christ has obeyed God’s command in our place in all
54 CD II/2, pp. 633, 634. See also CD III/4, p. 43, where Barth, along the same lines, refers to
“resolve, event, and revelation.”
three spheres and thus takes our place not only as reconciled sinners but
also as creatures and heirs of redemption. Second, it is to say that the com
mand that addresses us as creatures, reconciled sinners, and heirs of
redemption has as its content, in each sphere, the grace of God to us in Jesus
Christ. Third, it is to say that the human actions that are commanded by
God in all three spheres and their constituent microspheres will in a dis
tinctively human manner correspond to the grace of God to us in Jesus
Christ, as for example the actions that constitute the man-woman and mar
ital relationships will correspond to the actions of God and Israel and Christ
and the church.
It should now be apparent why the complaint that Barth absorbs creation
into reconciliation misses its target. Because it takes account only of the
horizontal axis, this complaint can be dismissed simply by pointing out that
the reconciliation of the sinner presupposes the creature whose created
characteristics are the permanent conditions under which the whole history
of the covenant of grace, including reconciliation, unfolds.55 The permanent
conditions of the covenant of grace are in place prior to reconciliation,
which presupposes them and therefore does not absorb them into itself. For
Barth as for any orthodox Christian theologian, the sinner who is recon
ciled is the good-but-fallen creature. Creation therefore cannot be absorbed
into reconciliation. However, for Barth the fulfillment of the covenant of
grace by Jesus Christ in the midst of time is not only the reconciliation of
sinners. Most fundamentally, it is the realization in time of what was
resolved by God from eternity. It is of course a matter of great significance
that the act that realizes the covenant of grace in time is also the act that
reconciles human beings to God as sinners who have rejected that cove
nant. But it is the act that reconciles the sinner only as it is most fundamen
tally the act that realizes in time what God has resolved from eternity.56
A more serious challenge is posed to Barth when the complaint about the
absorption of creation into reconciliation is instead directed at this determi
nation of the horizontal axis by the vertical axis. For Barth, creation and rec
onciliation alike are determined by the realization in time of the covenant of
grace that was resolved by God from eternity and that in the form of the
command of God addresses us, whether as creatures or as reconciled sin
ners, from the site of its realization. Directed in this way, the complaint aims
straight at the claim that creation is to be understood as the presupposition
55 CD III/2, pp. 40f. 56 CD IV/1, pp. 22–66 and especially pp. 47f.
of the covenant of grace. To say that creation is the presupposition of the

covenant of grace is not to say, with much of the Christian tradition, that
God creates a creature of a certain kind which is ordered to fellowship with
God in and with its distinctive characteristics and is enabled by grace to
attain fellowship with God. It is to say instead that God creates the creature
to whom God can be gracious—the creature for whom and in whose place
God can act—and whose characteristics are conditions for grace to do its
work. Rather than grace working in or on the creature, the creature itself is
the work of grace, brought into existence precisely so that grace may have
material for its work. In Karl Barth’s theology, the creature exists by and for
grace. It is not the case, then, that God acts for the creature God has created.
It is rather the case that God creates the creature for whom God can act. But
if this is so, we must ask whether Barth’s position is ultimately self-defeating.
Can God’s action truly be for the human creature as such if the human crea
ture as such is, and is what it is, solely so that God can be for it?57
The shadow of this question falls not only over Barth’s theological ethics
but over the whole of his theology. To question the determination of the
horizontal axis by the vertical axis is to strike at the heart of his theology.
With regard to his theological ethics in particular, it is to question the fun
damental thesis that the grace of God to us in Jesus Christ is the norm of
human conduct, that the law is the form of the gospel. This is indeed no
local but rather a global challenge to Barth’s ethics. Its implications will be
drawn out in the Conclusions to the chapters that follow and will culminate
in the Conclusion to the book. But for now it is important to emphasize that
the challenge is not directed at the claim that all theological ethics, includ
ing the ethics of creation, is ultimately grounded in Jesus Christ, nor does it
imply that grace is without normative significance. The fact that Jesus Christ
fulfills what God requires of us and that our moral accomplishments are
made possible by God’s grace to us in him has profound implications for
theological ethics. But it does not imply that grace itself is the norm of
human action or that the goodness of human action consists in its corre
spondence to grace.
57 The determination of the horizontal line by the vertical line is grounded in Barth’s
Christology, and as anticipated in n. 37 above, this criticism of the determination of the hori
zontal line by the vertical line implies the rejection of the determination of anthropology by
Christology. Just as the being of Jesus Christ as the one who realizes our covenant partnership
in our place determines his nature as the creaturely condition for covenant partnership, so our
being with him determines our nature, and the vertical line determines the horizontal line. A
problematic move in Christology thus results in a questionable anthropology, which in turn
gives rise to a problematic ethics of creation.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
constitute the royal livery, was also lying prone on the floor with his
head towards the east. Their orisons, if praying they were, were
extremely short, for in a trice both men were on their feet and all
attention to my wants. I mean to speak later of the minutiæ of my
daily life, but at this point I wish to hasten my reader and not to
weary or detain him with petty diurnal details that I have settled to
describe in another place. Let it suffice to say that I bathed, dressed
and breakfasted to my complete satisfaction, and that having duly
performed these matutinal duties I was glad to find myself at leisure
to contemplate by the brilliant light of morning the veiled scene of the
previous night.
From the vantage ground of my exterior gallery I obtained a superb
and intimate view of the great city of Tamarida and its surroundings.
Imagine a compound of Naples, Algiers and Amalfi, each of these
Mediterranean cities being built on steep slopes descending to the
sea-shore, and yet such compound resulting in something totally
dissimilar from any earthly town of my acquaintance. In size and
arrangement Tamarida somewhat resembled the older portions of
Naples that stretch from Sant' Elmo to the Monte di Dio; in setting I
was reminded of Amalfi with its craggy headlands, though here on a
grander scale; whilst in general character the cascade of dazzling
white flat-roofed square houses of the Arab native town in Algiers
suggested many points of comparison in this case. But though it was
evident that my capital was very extensive, and that much of its area
was thickly populated, nevertheless there seemed to be abundance
of parks and gardens in all directions, forming oases of vivid
greenery amongst the dense masses of small low squat dwellings.
Roughly speaking, the city was divided into three portions, that were
formed by two deep valleys, down each of which flowed a rapid clear
torrent fed from the mountainous regions above. The two outer
sections of this curving site were wholly occupied, as I have said, by
houses and gardens of the citizens, apparently both rich and poor
intermingled; whilst the central slope between the two streams was
reserved for the palace and the main temple and other official
buildings. Of these the palace took up a considerable space about
half-way up the hillside, and below it, stretching to the harbour, was a
large tract of tilth and orchard, well sprinkled with tiny white cottages
and long low barns that were presumably used by the labourers and
other servants of the palace. The royal residence itself was an
immense rambling structure, built without plan and at various
periods, though it was hard to classify its many architectural features
or to guess which were the older or more recent portions of the
fabric. Above the palace and its adjacent enclosures could be seen
hanging-gardens traversed by immense flights of broad shallow
steps, beyond which was another conspicuous group of buildings
situated at different levels. This pile I rightly concluded to be the chief
—it was the only—temple of the city, both from its more ornate style
of architecture and from a circular tower which crowned the main
edifice. On this tower upreared a tall column whereon rested a gilded
copper representation of the sun in splendour, making a brilliant
mass of golden light under the fierce rays of its great original, and
offering a prominent landmark for many miles around. Of the
residential districts of Tamarida on the two flanking slopes I have
omitted to mention that two main streets or arteries for traffic could
be distinctly traced by me, running irregularly through the crowded
quarters and parks alike, and ending in the broad quays alongside
the waters of the harbour. Many ships of various shapes and sizes,
but mostly appearing to be fishing vessels, lined these quays and
were also visible in numbers on the placid surface of the circular
harbour itself, which was contained by two outlying rocky
promontories crowned on either tip by a low light-house.
CITY & HARBOUR OF TAMARIDA
I was interrupted in the midst of my many interesting discoveries and
observations by the sudden entrance of one of my equerries, who
was followed by the Arch-priest demanding an audience. Left alone
together, I instinctively put myself on my guard, assuming as well as
I could an air of naive simplicity. Despite his deferential words and
attitude, I could not fail to detect the deep-set twinkle in his eye as he
proceeded to inform me of the object of his mission. At the same
time, however, I felt certain that I must have produced a favourable
impression on the previous day, and from my deportment both now
and in the future I warmly hoped to be able to hold the old man's
approval, for something in my inner consciousness, a species of
sixth sense, assured me he was ready to show himself my friend,
though doubtless a friend within certain limits that I had yet to learn.
The Arch-priest opened our talk with an apology for thus invading the
privacy of my apartments without previous warning, excusing himself
for his intrusion by the urgent necessity of the occasion. He then
informed me that on the next day the ceremony of my coronation
was fixed to take place in the temple, which he pointed out to me
from the balcony. "You are in the eyes of your subjects, as you know,
the Child of the Sun, whom alone we worship in Meleager, and who
sends you as a king to rule over his favoured people. You will
therefore be presented in public by myself and my colleagues of the
Sacred College to the populace; you will be robed and crowned; you
will extend your formal blessing to them; you will offer incense at the
crystal altar of your Father the Sun, in the great courtyard of the
temple; and after that you will mount the sacred white horse so as to
ride in full majesty through the streets of the city in the presence of
your subjects. It will be a long and tedious series of ceremonies, yet I
flatter myself that each one of these rites will not be without interest
to you, seeing the lengthy spell of authority amongst us that lies
ahead of you. I myself shall be at your side throughout, and you may
rely with safety on my tutelage in any event."
Other advice and suggestions the Arch-priest likewise imparted to
me, amongst the rest that Hiridia would in course of time teach me
the spoken language of Meleager. "Ever since your immersion in the
mystical well," so my companion proceeded, "you will experience an
acceleration of all the faculties, which in your case were already
highly developed when on Earth. Moreover, the tongue of the
Meleagrians, which under Hiridia's teaching you will soon acquire, is
not a written language, and none outside our hierarchy of the Temple
of the Sun can read or write at all. Indeed, our only archives are in
Latin, since for reasons which it is not expedient for me to mention at
this point we have always vigorously opposed the casting of the
popular speech into a literary form." This last statement the old man
made in a very solemn manner, looking me full in the face as though
to catch any motion or expression of surprise or disapproval. But I
had set my countenance unflinchingly, and received his confidences
with perfect outward composure, whereupon the Arch-priest leaned
back in his chair with a faint sigh of relief which by no means
escaped my watchful notice. Having received this minor secret of
Meleagrian state craft so calmly and suitably, I was hoping to glean
yet more information on the traditional polity of the governing cabal
of my kingdom, but on this occasion I was doomed to be
disappointed. For the Arch-priest arose abruptly, and leading me to
the balustrade of the gallery began to point out and explain to me the
various buildings and salient features that were discernible from this
spot. In most cases I found I had already guessed correctly, my
intelligence and perspicacity evidently serving to strengthen the
favourable impression I had already created. The Arch-priest then
led me to the other side of the building and introduced me to the
private gardens of the palace, a delightful pleasance, full of
subtropical verdure and flowers and overshadowed by tall palms and
cypresses. Fountains with marble basins were frequent, and their
constant plashing made an agreeable sound in the intense quiet of
this retreat. I noted too that every fountain was circular in shape, and
that everywhere were to be seen endless representations of the sun,
whilst the many lackeys or slaves attached to the royal service bore
the same design woven in gold and blue on their breasts. Returning
to the gallery overlooking the town and harbour, my companion bade
me listen to the hum of voices and the din of traffic that rose from
below into the warm air, striking on my ears with the mingled sounds
of a teeming city.
"Tamarida is filled to overflowing with your loyal subjects,"
commented the Arch-priest; "who are all agog to behold to-morrow's
function; and even now the town is hourly receiving innumerable
visitors from the country districts and from your Majesty's second city
of Zapyro, which is ever jealous of the capital for its possession of
the person of the Child of the Sun." He paused for a moment to give
me another of those arch glances from his kindly, humorous old
eyes; but I only nodded and smiled amiably. "Thousands of faithful
citizens too from your Majesty's colonies on the wild rocky coasts of
Barbaria yonder to the north (and he waved his arm to indicate some
distant land beyond the enclosing hills) are hastening hither to
behold the reincarnation of the Child of the Sun, concerning whom
their parents have doubtless told them wonderful tales. See those
boats with bellying sails that are even now entering the harbour's
mouth; they are all freighted with excited pilgrims, men, women and
children, drawn hither to assist at a spectacle of outward splendour
and interior sanctity that your Earth, notwithstanding its illimitable
wealth and its superior population, cannot produce. They tell me
(and here the old man's eyes again twinkled mischievously) that one
of your own many religious cults is ruled by a priest who claims and
receives divine honours. He is said to be elected by a college of
saintly and venerable brother priests, and to be borne aloft with
pomp and acclamation on the shoulders of men of noble birth. I
have, of course, never seen the ceremonies of modern Rome (which
city I hold in especial esteem as having been in ancient times the
origin of our official written language), but in this one crucial instance
this consecration of an earthly high priest must yield to ours. For
there is (so I am informed) no unanimity of opinion, no universal
acceptance of the chosen pontiff; whilst here the King who is
provided by our hierarchy is acknowledged by all without hesitation
or limit as the connecting link between the divine and the human,
whose presence is absolutely essential to the welfare of his subjects.
Our King is the peculiar guerdon of our sole Deity the Sun to his
favoured people, on whom from time to time he deigns to bestow a
member of his own family for guidance and example."
At length the Arch-priest took his departure, and I spent the
remainder of the day agreeably enough in the society of Hiridia,
whom I set to teach me the names of every object in sight. I had
already requested the Arch-priest for pen and ink and paper, and
after a visible tendency to demur he had yielded to my demand, a
plentiful supply of beautifully prepared rolls of vellum, an ink-horn
and some quill pens being brought me. I now wrote down
phonetically the name of each thing supplied me by Hiridia, placing
its English equivalent opposite. I was quite astonished at my
progress in the course of a few hours' application of this nature, and
the sun was low in the western sky when my patient tutor made
respectful signs to me to rise and follow him. I soon grasped his
intention, for he led me through the gardens to an open court where
two young nobles were playing at some sort of hand-ball. A slave
now removed my mantle and tunic, to exchange them for a short
linen garment, whilst a pair of hard leather gloves were likewise
supplied me. We four now fell to play with zest a game that was so
reminiscent of the hand-fives of my school-days that I learned the
science, the rules and the method of scoring in a very short space. I
thoroughly enjoyed the healthy exercise, which in due course
produced a copious perspiration, and thus we amused ourselves till
the final sinking of the sun brought our game to a close for lack of
light. At this moment I heard the prolonged blare of a distant trumpet,
and straightway perceived my three companions sink to their knees
for a short but silent prayer. Then they rose and led me to the
thermal baths attached to the palace, where I indulged in a further
bout of sweating followed by a plunge in cool water. After resting I
dressed myself again, and with an excellent appetite made my way
to the banqueting hall, where I partook of the last meal of the day.
On this occasion a band of professional players with unfamiliar
instruments provided us with music, which I found neither better nor
worse than many of the concerts I had been obliged to attend at
various times upon Earth. Pleasantly fatigued, at last I sought my
bed-chamber to ponder over my late experiences of the first twenty-
four conscious hours I had spent on the planet of Meleager.
Early on the following morning there were abundant signs to warn

me of the great impending event. All was bustle and animation within
the palace, and at an early hour the Arch-priest himself was
announced to give me some final instructions. Soon afterwards a
litter was brought, borne by a number of servants dressed in what
was evidently their gala livery, and in this equipage I was placed,
behind carefully closed curtains, and was thus conveyed up many
long flights of steps to the precincts of the temple above. Here on my
arrival I found the Arch-priest and several members of the hierarchy
awaiting me, and was informed that first of all it was necessary for
me to hold a levée of the whole of the ruling Council of the Seventy. I
cannot say that this prospect afforded me any pleasure; still, I
prepared to comport myself with the necessary amount of calm
dignity I deemed fitting for the occasion. I was next ushered into a
large hall, where in a semicircle were seated a large number of these
all-powerful patriarchs clad in their robes of flowing white. I was
directed to a throne opposite them, and at once began to hold my
formal reception, each member of the Council being presented to me
in turn by the Arch-priest. In every case, mindful of our royal Court
procedure on Earth, I proffered my right hand for a kiss of salutation,
and at the same time set my face to exhibit no sign of anxiety or self-
consciousness, for I realised that I was amongst the keenest and
most critical intellects of the kingdom, who regarded me not in the
light of a true monarch, but rather as their own creature, a thing
raised by their choice and efforts from mere nothingness to a
position of extreme though false magnificence. Nevertheless, I was
not so much preoccupied with the mastery of my feelings that I failed
to note carefully the face and expression of each individual member
as the councillors filed before me in a long moving stream that
seemed to flow interminably past the throne, so prolix and lengthy
was the Arch-priest in his style of presentation. Vainly did I look for
the appearance of my Herthian friend Signor Arrigo d'Aragno
amongst their number, but either he was absent or else was so
skilfully disguised that I failed to detect his presence. One little
circumstance I observed was that whereas all the Meleagrian men I
had hitherto seen wore moustaches, these grandees of the
governing caste were all either clean-shaven or else owned beards
of an imposing length. Nearly two hours were consumed in this
fatiguing occupation, and thankful I was when the last sharp-eyed
senator had returned to his seat.
I now arose of my own motion, and expressed a desire to quit the
chamber of the councillors, whose atmosphere somehow oppressed
and irritated me. The Arch-priest accordingly led me into a closet
adjoining, where I sat down on the pretence of fatigue. Ere long
however to my relief I saw Hiridia approach, followed by my two
equerries and by some servants of the palace bearing large bundles,
which I perceived contained the regal robes of state. A priest
certainly stood beside me, but he made no attempt to interfere with
Hiridia's arrangements. First of all, I was stripped to my inner
vesture, after which gorgeous blue leather buskins with heavy gold
tassels and laces were fitted to my feet. Next a tunic far more
elaborate than my usual one was donned; then a mantle of an
appalling weight but of a surpassing splendour was hung from my
yielding shoulders. On the mantle itself was embroidered a device of
the blazing sun in heavy gold thread, whilst the rest of the surface of
the cloak was thickly patined with golden stars. The mantle was
fastened by a clasp composed of a huge cabochon sapphire of
perfect water set in a circle of flashing diamonds. At this moment the
Arch-priest returned, resplendent in festal robes of white silk fringed
with gold and with a tall golden mitre on his head. Thus habited, he
appeared a striking and venerable figure, for his superior height, his
flowing white beard, his pleasant brown eyes and his delicate
complexion all combined to make a most favourable impression on
the beholder. On a cushion he carried the regal crown, of the type
known to heraldry as "palisaded," and not unlike the diadem worn by
the Medicean Grand Dukes of Tuscany, as shown in their pictures
and effigies. My crown was all of gold with the exception of one large
oval sapphire surrounded by brilliants for its central ornament. This
object the Arch-priest now carefully placed on my head, not a little to
my trepidation until I realised that, whether by accident or as the
result of forethought, the heavy circle fitted my cranium to a nicety.
The finishing touch consisted in fastening solid gold armillæ, or
bracelets, set with sapphires on my wrists.
Thus gloriously apparelled, I must on standing up have presented a
truly noble and imposing appearance, and I say so without shame of
conceit or vanity. I was many inches taller than the tallest of my
companions; thanks to my bath in the Fountain of Rejuvenation I had
a clear white skin, a sparkling eye, and an elegance of carriage that
have rarely been seen by mortal man; whilst the extreme fairness of
my complexion and the sheen of my long locks in contrast with so
many dusky skins and black heads of hair seemed to attract to
themselves some kind of shadowy semi-divine aureole, such as
Benvenuto Cellini describes as investing his person after his
colloquy with the Blessed Virgin and St Peter in his cell of the castle
of Sant'Angelo. I was well aware of the sensation I aroused in all
present, even in the Arch-priest; and a thrill of elation, of confidence
in the future, possessed me through and through. Whether or no
these saturnine priests of the Temple of the Sun chose to regard me
as their puppet, their slave, what was that to me? I realised that my
marvellous beauty at this moment was an asset whereof nothing
they could say or do would lessen my influence in the eyes of the
mass of the people I was about to face. All misgivings and tremors
left me, as I prepared boldly to move forward and take my part in the
coming pageant.
To a terrific blast of trumpets and to the explosions of some
antiquated-looking mortars that stood on the temple parapet, our
procession filed through a narrow doorway on to a broad marble
platform. First emerged the nobles attached to the Court in their
crimson gala robes, then the priests, a long sinuous line of snowy
white; behind them walked the Arch-priest, whilst last of all appeared
myself, a tall commanding majestic figure with my equerries to
uphold my glittering mantle. My entry into sight of the vast multitude
that thronged the courtyard below the platform on which we stood
was first greeted by a spell of perfect silence, which in time changed
to a long low murmur of approval and awe, and finally to a
resounding roar of satisfied delight. Slowly did our long train of
nobles, priests, choristers and attendants unwind and fall into proper
groups in their assigned places, the whole scene reminding me of
some wonderful ballet on an immense stage, with its blending and
massing and dividing of the colours of white, red, gold and blue, like
the intricate movements of some stately dance.
At last only the Arch-priest and myself remained standing in the
central space of the platform, when the former, after an obeisance of
a cringing humility of which I had hitherto deemed him incapable,
conducted me to a throne beneath a canopy of blue and gold. From
this point, during the performance of some singing, I was enabled
surreptitiously to examine the component parts of the huge crowd
beneath. Immediately under the dais were numbers of persons who
were all characterised by wearing green in some form or other, either
green tunics or mantles or scarves. As these seemed to occupy the
better and reserved space in the courtyard I concluded (and rightly
so) that they were members of the middle or mercantile class, who
were given precedence over the general populace. The latter were
farther away, and were consequently more difficult for me to
distinguish. But it was a picturesque throng in any case, and
brilliantly coloured, for the robes were mostly in tints of yellow,
orange, violet, pink, cinnamon and other shades, though the four
colours of blue, white, red and green were conspicuously absent.
Men, women and children were visible in the crowd, all of them being
small dark people of the type already exemplified in the few persons
I had hitherto seen. Part of the court was enclosed by double
colonnades that supported upper chambers screened by lattice-work
from inquisitive eyes, like the discreet convent windows I used to
observe in the highest storeys above the streets of Naples and
Palermo. Behind these screens were evidently many spectators, and
from the shrillness of the voices issuing hence and from other
indications I gathered that the occupants of these galleries were
mostly women. As a matter of fact, one side was reserved for the
ladies and children of the nobility, and the other for the female
inmates of the college of nuns or recluses attached to the Temple of
the Sun, of whose duties I mean to speak later.
After a long interval of chanting, at a sign from the Arch-priest I rose
and gave a benediction to the assembled crowd by raising my right
arm and slowly turning round so as to envisage the whole assembly.
This was made the excuse for more applause, and when this had
subsided more canticles were intoned. Again I imparted the required
blessing, after which a golden censer was brought me and I was
assisted to advance towards a small altar, formed apparently of solid
crystal, whereon the sun's rays were falling in blinding coruscations
of light. Here I offered up clouds of incense in the direction of my
supposed Parent, the whole multitude kneeling in the most profound
silence and in the most decorous attitude of rapt attention. For fully
ten minutes I must have been swaying that heavy censer, and what
with the weight of my robes, the scorching heat of the sun's beams,
and the extreme tension caused by the magnificence and novelty of
my situation, I felt almost at last ready to drop from sheer
exhaustion, when the Arch-priest again came to my rescue and
relieved me of the smoking thurible. More cheering, more intoning,
more ceremonious movements, till ultimately I found myself with the
Arch-priest on one side of me and Hiridia on the other, making my
way off the platform. I was forthwith led to a chamber furnished with
long tables whereon was served a collation of which I stood
considerably in need. I then learned I was being entertained thus by
the body of the hierarchy, so that once more I felt the necessity of
exhibiting no sign of fatigue or of astonishment. The meal was of
brief duration, for the day was well advanced by this time, and there
still remained the important state entry and procession through the
streets of the capital. Quitting the temple precincts I found a
cavalcade, or guard of honour, awaiting me, whilst some pages were
holding a horse in readiness for me. My steed of state was of a
remarkable aspect, for he was pure white with a strong tint of flesh
pink showing through his coat, and with pink ears and muzzle. His
flowing mane and tail had also been dyed of a blue colour, and, most
marvellous thing of all, his eyes showed of a clear light blue.
Afterwards I learned that this animal belonged to a breed that is
specially reserved for the use of the Child of the Sun on state
occasions, and that certain families possess hereditary rights in
connection with the breeding and training of these uncanny
quadrupeds. With a saddle and bridle of blue leather richly
ornamented with gold this white stallion stood ready caparisoned for
my person, and with some assistance owing to the weight of my
cloak I managed to mount without conscious loss of dignity. My long
mantle with its gorgeous devices was deftly spread over the horse's
back; my feet were fixed in the clumsy bucket-like stirrups, and the
reins placed in my hand. Thus seated, with Hiridia and other nobles
walking beside me, I was ready to start, whereupon my mounted
escort in their picturesque chain-armour led the way with a clanking
sound.
Leaving the temple gates we soon crossed a bridge spanning a
rushing river whose precipitous banks were thickly clothed with rich
vegetation of palm ferns, poinsettias and other tropical plants.
Pursuing our course we turned sharply to the right, whereupon I
almost immediately found myself in the streets of the capital with the
prospect of descending a very narrow steep paved roadway that led
eventually to the beach below. The streets themselves being too
narrow to permit of the presence of spectators, every window and
flat house-roof, and indeed every possible coign of vantage, was
occupied by the citizens of Tamarida, who all evinced the liveliest
enthusiasm in thus beholding their new sovereign in his progress.
Much to my relief my horse contrived to pick his way without mishap
down that fearful lane, which now and again broke into actual steps,
like the dingy mediæval streets of old Naples. Every second I was
dreading a stumble on the part of my queer-coloured steed, and a
consequent loss of majesty to myself; each moment I feared for the
fate of my weighty diadem. Mechanically I continued to smile and to
scatter benisons upon the vociferous crowds of loyal subjects, the
while I trusted to my own good luck as well as to Hiridia's careful
guidance; and it was with a sense of unspeakable gratitude that
eventually I reached the water-side that was lined with shipping of
which every yard-arm was positively bristling with eager brown
humanity. For some little distance we now pursued the curved line of
the shore, and then crossing another archway entered a gate
opening into the lower portion of the palace gardens. Here a large
number of servants, gardeners and labourers, with their families,
was drawn up to cheer and to prostrate themselves before me, and I
concluded my ride had drawn to an end. But it was not so, for I had
to cross the gardens and by means of another bridge or viaduct to
enter the southern quarter of the city and to repeat my previous
experience, with the important difference that this time I had to
ascend instead of descend the long narrow winding streets. This at
any rate was an improvement on my former trial, and I carried it
through with apparent unconcern, although it seemed an
interminable time before I was finally quit of the crowds and the
streets and was once more on my feet and in the purlieus of the
palace. Thus did I accomplish successfully the not inconsiderable
task allotted me on my second day in Meleager, and albeit hot and
exhausted by my exertions, I flattered myself internally that I had
borne the long ordeal of my coronation ceremonies with distinction.
It was almost dark when I dismounted from my peculiar but
trustworthy palfrey, to seek the peace and privacy of my bed-
chamber, where I was assisted to unrobe. A warm bath and a cool
plunge soon refreshed me, so that I felt capable of facing any further
demands on my bodily or mental strength that might be required of
me that night. There was a grand banquet with music and some
display of dancing and conjuring, but nothing more occurred of
special interest, though I was glad to observe and feel that I had won
the warm approval of the nobles of the Court, who sat feasting round
me. Thus ended my coronation day, and right glad I was to retire to
my bed and to sleep off the fatigue and excitement of its many
strange incidents.
I trust I have not wearied or disgusted the reader with my lengthy
account of all these events that took place during the first two days
of my reign in Meleager. Portions of what I have thus described will, I
fear, seem somewhat disjointed and obscure, but in excuse I can
plead that so did they also seem disjointed and obscure to myself at
the time, for at this early stage I had naturally learned next to nothing
of the peculiar conditions prevailing in my new kingdom. These I
intend to treat of in my subsequent chapters, whereby I hope to
throw some light on my own anomalous position as a semi-divine
monarch, on the composition and aims of the hierarchy, on the social
status of the various classes composing the realm, and on the daily
life of myself and of my people.
V
At this very early stage I had naturally not acquired the native
language of Meleager, and my sole communication was carried on
with the Arch-priest in a classical tongue. Besides this, apart from
the restricted nature of our intercourse, it was tolerably clear to me
that the members of the hierarchy as a whole showed themselves
anxious to suppress rather than to explain to me their guiding
principles of polity. With this impression firmly fixed in my mind, I
became more than ever eager and determined to learn the native
language with all speed, so that for the next few weeks I abandoned
myself with the greatest diligence to this object. What with my
sharpened wits and with my close application I made unexpectedly
rapid progress; nor should I omit to pay my tribute of gratitude to
Hiridia's pains and patience in this matter. For many hours daily we
engaged in our task, and, with the exception of taking the exercise
necessary for health, practically all my working time was occupied in
linguistic efforts. My toil was well rewarded, for after no very great
length of time I had the satisfaction of perceiving that daily I grew
more and more proficient in my subject, so that I was able to
converse with Hiridia with some degree of fluency and mutual
understanding.
This interval of vigorous study must have lasted about three months
in all, and in spite of many hints from the Arch-priest I firmly refused
to leave the precincts of the palace until I had gained the mastery of
the native tongue. As to whether this attitude of close seclusion
caused disappointment in the capital or annoyance among the
members of the council I paid no heed, but only showed my inflexible
resolution on this head. Having once succeeded completely in my
design, I made every effort to draw from Hiridia all conceivable
information about the land and people I had been called upon to rule,
my questions ranging over the whole field of possible inquiry. I
certainly did in this way contrive to amass a certain amount of
valuable knowledge, although I was by no means satisfied with all
the answers and explanations I received. For, if it was plain that the
Arch-priest and his colleagues were averse to supplying the required
details, it was equally plain that poor Hiridia with all the good
intentions possible was excessively ignorant of his own
surroundings; for instance, he could tell me next to nothing of the
mode of life, the general conditions and the interior affairs of any
class of the realm save that of the nobility to which he himself
belonged. As to the hierarchy, on which subject I plied him with the
greatest tact, I had to conclude that, whilst regarding the ruling caste
with unmeasured awe and respect, he was at the same time in
nowise intimate with any of that elusive body, though its members
were drawn solely from his own class and were in some cases his
own relations. Thus was I compelled to build my edifice of
knowledge and discovery of bricks without straw, so that often I was
fain to lose my temper in my fruitless endeavours to attain the truth;
happily, however, my patience and perseverance triumphed over my
natural exasperation. Daily I made careful notes in English on my
parchment, altering or adding to these notes from time to time, as
further inquiry or observation served to throw more light on the main
subject of my study. And it always amused me to observe the look of
profound admiration, even of alarm, wherewith Hiridia used to regard
the cabalistic scrolls I daily annotated on my table, which stood in the
long gallery facing the sea. At the same time I grew to learn that my
tutor's reverence was mingled with an intense feeling of loyalty and
devotion to myself, so that I instinctively knew that his life would be
willingly risked in my service, should any evil chance arise. Thus my
reputation of semi-divinity in this instance certainly carried some
advantages with it! As to the Arch-priest, who always insisted on
speaking in Latin to me, I did not indeed look for the same
unwavering fidelity as I found in Hiridia, yet with that curious extra
sixth sense of mine, that is never at fault, I knew he was pleased
with my painstaking efforts, and that he was for the present at least
very much my sincere friend and champion.
I think I had better at this point in my narrative offer a brief

description of the average day that I spend, so as to afford the
reader some notion of my duties, my pleasures and my occupations
—that is, of course, after I had succeeded in mastering the language
of my kingdom. The course of time being reckoned in Meleager after
the old Italian mode of counting the twenty-four hours from the
uprising of the sun, at the first streak of dawn watchers in the temple
proclaim the new-born day, by firing a piece of ordnance. This is
succeeded by loud trumpet calls in the barracks of the soldiery, and
the whole city awakens. Every one leaps from bed, and kneeling
repeats the following short prayer to the Sun:
"O Sun, mighty King, Father of Lights, I bless thee and thank thee for
another day! It is Thou alone that canst gladden our hearts, warm
our homes, nourish our crops, sweeten our grass, ripen our fruits. By
Thy Light alone Thy servants can live and adore Thee. Blessed be
Thy Face once more appearing!"
This simple formula is the universal morning prayer on Meleager,
whose inhabitants are true sun-worshippers, in the sense that they
attribute all good and all gifts to the sun's visible power and majesty
that are daily revealed to them. As for myself, however, being
deemed the Child of the Sun, I do not consider it incumbent on me to
indulge in this matutinal act of worship, though each dawn I wake to
see my servant lying prostrate on the floor with face turned
reverently towards the east. The act of prayer performed, he
approaches my couch with a goblet filled with some sort of mineral
water of a slightly bitter flavour, that is invariably swallowed before
arising. I then have a rather perfunctory bath in an adjoining room,
submitting myself to a rapid ablution with water slightly perfumed
with verbena, a scent that is reserved exclusively for the royal use. I
dress in the manner previously described, and am then ready for my
breakfast, which is usually set out in the open gallery that is already
flooded by the warm early sunlight. My repast consists of coffee
(which is extensively cultivated here), together with thick cream, a
manchet of fine white bread, and a platter heaped with superb fruit. I
leisurely enjoy these dainties and then (what on my first
acquaintance afforded me equal pleasure and surprise) I proceed to
smoke a cigar, or large cigarette, consisting of coarse granular
tobacco rolled in maize leaf, like the type of cigarette affected by the
natives of Brazil. For tobacco is largely grown here, and its leaves
are put to many uses, including this last-mentioned agreeable
purpose.
Whilst I am enjoying my fragrant cigarette, Hiridia invariably appears,
bringing me the news of the day, and thus conversing we soon stroll
into the gardens that are still fresh and gleaming with the dew. As I
stand about six feet three inches, and perhaps a trifle more, and my
tutor is of the average Meleagrian height of five foot five inches, I
used at first to find our walks on the terrace rendered unsatisfactory
by reason of our disparity in stature. To remedy this, I have caused a
low platform of stone to be constructed the whole of its length some
ten inches above the ground, and along this erection Hiridia now
walks beside me so that we can chat at a convenient level. I thought
the Arch-priest rather inclined to boggle at this suggestion, but I
contrived to carry my point all the same.
At the third hour of the day begins my work. First of all I hold an
audience, which is attended by the Arch-priest and some other
members of the hierarchy, whereat various matters of state
concerning the needs of the community, or the colonies, or the
troops are broached and discussed. An hour or more is generally
exhausted in this business, and by the fourth hour or a little later I
issue from the palace with a military escort and shadowed by the
umbrella of state to the judgment hall of the people, which is situated
in the city itself. (Or rather, to be quite explicit, I visit thus the two
courts of the northern and southern quarters of Tamarida on
alternate mornings.) Here I take my seat on a dais, and dispense
justice and advice to all and sundry in a fashion that constantly
reminds me of the multitudinous duties of a London stipendiary
magistrate, though the conditions of the two cases are happily very
diverse. My suppliants are drawn almost wholly from the lowest
estate of the realm, and sometimes the points submitted to my
judgment are of the most trivial character. But I sit and listen with all
the patience I can command, and then announce my verdict with all
the care and circumspection whereof I am capable. It is pathetic to
observe the intense faith my people have in my decisions; a suitor
who has lost his plea may perhaps feel disappointment, but he is
obviously fully resigned to my judgment, and accepts my award as
absolutely just and final. In short, the popular confidence in my
wisdom and sense of equity is unbounded, as the large and ever-
increasing roll of my daily petitioners can testify.
At noon a discharge of cannon, such as one still hears in the large
Italian cities at midday, resounds through the air, and the business of
the court is hurried to a conclusion. Everyone now retires to dine and
sleep, for at least two hours' space of rest is allotted to the whole
community. I return to the palace with my escort, quite ready for my
midday meal, which usually consists of eggs, fish, bread and fruit,
with plenty of the rough red or white Meleagrian wine, that is both
palatable and wholesome. To this repast I am in the habit of inviting
various members of the nobility, and I always find these small
informal parties far preferable to the rather dreary public supper of
the Court, which takes place each evening soon after sundown. After
eating, I sometimes play at chess (which is a very popular game
here) with one of my invited friends, whilst my other guests amuse
themselves as best they may; or at other times I listen to tales or
poems recited by such as aspire to become distinguished in this
department of Meleagrian social life. About the ninth or tenth hour I
walk in the gardens, and after that I change my clothes so as to
enjoy a vigorous game of hand-ball, which usually lasts till dusk.
After my exercise follows the bath, a lengthy but delightful daily
experience, for after the usual sweating and course of rubbing in the
heated chambers, one can plunge into a deep basin of cool water.
This pool also contains a cascade of artificial construction that one
shoots, in the manner employed by some of the islanders of the
South Seas, the bather being hurled over the falling volume of water
into another deep pool below. By swimming rapidly for a few strokes
beneath the surface one emerges farther on in the calm clear water
of a large natural basin that is fringed with ferns and verdure. A rapid
stream flowing down from the mountain-tops above through a
precipitous channel has at some time or other been cleverly utilised
in the construction of this cataract and lower pool, which have been
incorporated in these bathing arrangements for the palace.
Afterwards, I rest a while before dressing, when I proceed at my own
convenience to the large banqueting hall, though not before a salvo
of trumpets has given the signal that the workaday phase of
Meleagrian daily life is ended. All toil save that of domestic service
now ceases, and the whole city of Tamarida willingly resigns itself to
rest and recreation until the morrow's dawn. At the evening meal
eaten in public I remain but a short time, and then retire to my own
apartments, whither I summon, if so disposed, such persons as I feel
inclined to honour with an interview. Often however I sit or pace
alone for hours in the darkened or moonlit solitude of my loggia,
meditating on my strange fate and concocting plans for my future
course of conduct.
Such is the outline of my average day, but this programme is often
varied. In the first place, every seventh day being a public day of
thanks-giving and rest from labour, I have to attend the necessary
ceremonies in the temple instead of holding my informal court in the
city. On these days, too, I usually ride afield with some of my
courtiers, generally to go hunting into the wild mountainous region
behind the temple, where the keen air and the wide views over sea
and land seem to freshen my body and my spirits. Occasionally I pay
a visit on horseback to the seat of some hospitable nobleman,
whence we return late at night. At other times I honour some country
village with my presence, much to the delight and surprise of its
inhabitants. There are no books, as I have already explained, so that
in reality my life is necessarily compounded of action and meditation,
which on the whole has not hitherto caused me weariness or disgust.
Whether or no I shall always rest thus contented with this
monotonous routine of splendour and duty is a disagreeable and
anxious question that I try, with only moderate success, to thrust into
the background of my thoughts.
VI
Not a day passes here but that I lament my crass ignorance of even
the elementary principles of astronomy. In my school-days I was
never taught the use of the celestial globe, though my young brains
were burdened with the problems and theorems of Euclid, with
Greek enclitics and other scholastic lumber, dear to the dry-as-dust
soul of the English pedagogue. Such books dealing with the heavens
as I chanced to read in later life failed to leave an abiding impression
on my adult mind, with the result that now I can only bewail uselessly
the gaps in my early education. I mention this defect for a special
reason—namely, to crave allowance for the tentative character and
amateurish account of the features of my planet, which I want to
present to the reader.
From such calculations as I have made for myself and by myself I
believe the planet of Meleager to be insignificant in comparison with
the Earth. Possibly I may be mistaken in stating that its whole
surface is barely equal to the area of Australia, yet that is my
opinion. Its climate is subtropical in the central zone, gradually
tapering to temperate and cold towards its poles. Roughly speaking,
the "Regio Solis," the spreading peninsula that forms the main
portion of the kingdom of the Child of the Sun, possesses the climate
of Egypt or Mexico. Its summers are long and warm, though never
disagreeably torrid; its winter is of brief duration and normally wet
rather than cold, snow rarely falling near the coast. The changes of
spring and autumn are little marked, so that the whole course of the
year seems to consist of an extended warm season followed by a
spell of wet and cold. Southward of the Region of the Sun there
extends an apparently trackless ocean, on whose waters, I am told,
there is no land visible save a few barren islets and rocky reefs. But
then exploration for exploration's sake is wholly alien to the
Meleagrian outlook, and I much doubt whether the light sailing
vessels of the fishermen (who alone tempt these southern seas)

Karl Barths Moral Thought 1St Edition Gerald Mckenny Full Chapter

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Karl Barths Moral Thought 1St Edition Gerald Mckenny Full Chapter

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Karl Barth's Moral Thought 1st Edition

The series presents discussions on topics of general concern to Christian Ethics,

This book presents Karl Barth’s theological ethics as an account of morally

moral norms are typically understood in moral philosophy. Accordingly, it

1 CD II/2, pp. 513–15. 2 CD II/2, p. 527.

rational moral law.3 By the eighteenth century, however, philosophical

6 CD II/2, p. 542/KD II/2, p. 603 [emphases in German original].

claim of moral philosophy to independence of theology is unlikely to be

edited by Jürgen Boomgaarden and Martin Leiner (Herder-­Verlag, 2014),

2 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

The Subject Matter of Theological Ethics

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 3

himself ours . . . . He is for us in all his deity. Although he could be without

6 CD II/2, p. 557. 7 CD II/2, p. 596.

4 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

God’s Command as Requirement

9 CD II/2, pp. 539f. 10 CD II/2, p. 547. 11 CD II/2, pp. 538f.

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 5

Human Action as Correspondence to Grace

12 CD II/2, p. 543/KD II/2, p. 603. 13 CD II/2, pp. 512, 566f.

6 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 7

Barth’s understanding of our action as correspondence to God’s action in

General and Special Ethics

8 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

22 CD II/2, p. 546. 23 CD III/4, p. 4. 24 CD III/4, p. 5.

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 9

of God is an event,” not establishing that “there is [es gibt] a command of

26 CD II/2, p. 548. 27 CD III/1 p. 43. 28 CD III/4, pp. 26–31.

10 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Grace, Command, and Creation

According to Barth, then, God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ is the norm of

29 CD III/4, pp. 30f.

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 11

30 CD III/4, p. 3. 31 CD III/4, pp. 38–43.

12 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Creation as External Ground of the Covenant

32 CD III/4, p. 39. 33 CD III/1, pp. 42, 44.

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 13

14 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

37 As such, anthropology is determined by Christology. Just as Jesus’ “being [Sein] as a man

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 15

16 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Covenant as Internal Ground of Creation

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 17

the alleged requisites of these forms or structures of human life in society.

18 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 19

47 CD III/4, pp. 29f. (italics added). 48 CD III/4, p. 22.

20 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

50 CD III/4, p. 129. 51 CD III/4, p. 211.

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 21

of our creaturely nature, namely, relationality, body-­soul composition, and

22 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

Karl Barth ’ s Theological Ethics 23

24 Karl Barth ’ s Moral Thought

of the covenant of grace. To say that creation is the presupposition of the

Early on the following morning there were abundant signs to warn

I think I had better at this point in my narrative offer a brief

You might also like

edited by Jürgen Boomgaarden and Martin Leiner (Herder-Verlag, 2014),

of our creaturely nature, namely, relationality, body-soul composition, and