Church History 4: Frederick Schleiermacher (3/2/03)
Rev. Gary Cox
-- Wichita, Kansas
University Congregational Church
We’ve covered a lot of ground with
this four-week series on church history.
We’ve skipped over centuries with as little as a paragraph here and
there, and we’ve left out a great deal of important information. But today, in attempting to bring this
little series to a close, I am almost embarrassed at the amount of important
church history that won’t even merit a single sentence.
This morning we must go from Martin
Luther to the present day. Well, forget
it! Far too much happened over the past
500 years to cover it in a year, let alone a single morning. The Protestant Reformation took off, and
splintered into literally hundreds of denominations. Luther, Calvin and Zwingli established three basic foundations
upon which the modern Protestant church has been built.
Our own Congregational history
deserves an entire series. Henry VIII
turning away from the Catholic Church and establishing the Church of England so
he could divorce and remarry; the Puritan movement in the Church of England
which ultimately led to 101 Pilgrims boarding the Mayflower and sailing to the
New World; the role of congregationalism in the formation of the United States
constitution; Jonathan Edwards; the Great Awakening; there is no end to how
deeply we could go into our own history, without even touching on the hundreds
of other denominations that formed as a result of the Reformation.
The 20th Century alone
produced some of the most interesting and challenging theology the world has
ever seen. The controversy between the
modernists, or liberals, and the fundamentalists—that alone deserves a sermon
of its own.
However, as I organized this
four-week series and saw the amount of ground I would have to cover in this
final week, I had no problem identifying the theologian around whom I would
construct this morning’s message: Frederick Schleiermacher. My assumption is that most of us have heard
of St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas and Martin Luther; but few have heard of
Frederick Schleiermacher.
Schleiermacher was born in 1768 in
what is now Poland. His father was a
part of the Reformed clergy, meaning he adhered to the strict teachings of John
Calvin. Schleiermacher was drawn to
philosophy, however, and in 1787 he entered the university and immersed himself
in the study of Aristotle and Immanuel Kant.
He became an ordained minister in 1794, and spent the rest of his life
preaching and teaching in Berlin, Germany.
To put things in historic
perspective, Schleiermacher and Beethoven lived at the same time, in the same
culture. For those of you who love
history and the arts, you know that this was the Romantic era, when the scientific
rationality of the Classical era gave way to the more experimental and
emotional Romantic era. I won’t push
the analogy between Schleiermacher’s theology and music any further than to say
that Schleiermacher is to Luther what Beethoven is to Bach. If that helps at all, great. If it brings up bad memories from music
appreciation class, let it go.
A sort of avant-garde culture was
developing in the Berlin of that time.
Schleiermacher became the tutor of the children of a young count, and
soon became friends with the count’s intellectual circle of friends. All over Germany small groups of
intellectuals were meeting to discuss the changing culture. It was the discussions of these groups that
gave birth to the Romantic era.
The philosopher Friederick Schlegal
was in the count’s discussion group, and became one of Schleiermacher’s best
friends. This group loved
Schleiermacher’s thinking. He was warm,
witty, brilliant and articulate. He
shared the group’s strong feelings about the importance of individuality. He shared their rejection of the overly
rational, detached view of the world that the Enlightenment era had created.
But there was one thing they simply
could not understand. How could this
intelligent, reasonable, brilliant man be a Christian minister? The other members of his circle had
liberated themselves from religion.
They were cultured despisers of religion, and saw no place for it
in the modern world.
On his 29th birthday, his
closest friends threw Frederick Schleiermacher a surprise birthday party. The best and brightest of Berlin were there,
and at one point in the celebration, the philosopher Friederick Schlegal gave a
signal, and everyone gathered at the party said in unison, “You must write a
book.” The group hounded him until he
agreed to write a book on religion, a promise he fulfilled less than two years
later when he finished, what to this day, is considered one of the most
important theology books ever written.
It is called On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers.
To understand why this book is so
important, we have to dip our toes into the philosophy of that time. Now, if you ever want to give yourself a
really good headache, spend some time with Immanuel Kant. I have no desire to torture any of you, or
myself for that matter, but there is one thing we need to understand about
Kant. Kant is regarded by many, to this
day, as having the greatest philosophical mind in human history, with the
possible exception of Plato. And while
every philosophical argument can be debated, for most philosophers, Kant proved
that we cannot reason our way to God.
The human mind is incapable of proving the existence of God.
But Kant didn’t throw the idea of
God out the window. He said that even
though we can’t prove the existence of God, it is better to believe in God than
not to believe in God, because belief in God grants us a firm moral
foundation. For Kant, religion was all
about morality. And the enlightenment
thinkers then and ever since have argued that human beings can construct a
moral civilization without believing in the existence of a God, whose existence
itself cannot be rationally proven.
Excedrin,
anyone? The reason we had to touch on
Kant is that Schleiermacher attempted to show that Kant was only half
right. Of course the existence of God
cannot be proven by the human mind. But
religion is more than ethics—more than morals.
There is another way of knowing.
There is knowledge than can be received beyond the reason, beyond
thinking.
Here is the foundation of
Schleiermacher’s thinking. Religion is
not a form of knowledge, and religion is not a system of morality. Instead, religion is grounded in Gefuhl,
a German word that is translated into English as feeling. This is unfortunate, because the word feeling
does not convey what Schleiermacher is trying to say. Many people dismiss his theology because they think it must be
all about emotion. Gefuhl goes
much deeper than emotion.
This feeling that
Schleiermacher says is the foundation of religion is not a sentimental
feeling. It is not an emotional
response. It is not a sudden experience
that brings about some rise in emotion.
Let’s go to the depths for a moment, and see if we can grasp what
Schleiermacher is talking about.
Let’s think about our life. Shut out all the distractions, all the
clutter, all the noise, and just think about this amazing experience of being
alive. What is going on here? Schleiermacher says that if we go to our
very depths, and shut everything else out, one fact will become glaringly
obvious. Everything that we are—every
part of this human life we each experience—is totally dependent upon something
else for its very existence.
Turn of the reason, turn off the
emotion, just be for a moment; and you will see that each of us is held
in being by some power outside of ourselves.
We, and everything else in the universe is absolutely dependent on
something else. After all, if we could
call ourselves into being, we’d just keep doing it forever. Right?
But we can’t even guarantee our next breath. There’s something else.
But what?
Whatever that is, says
Schleiermacher, is what we call God.
This is along long way from the guy with the beard who sits on the
clouds and looks down on us with anger and judgment. Schleiermacher says that if you go to that place deep within
yourself and shut out the rest of the world, you will become radically aware
of the existence of the One on whom all the universe depends. That radical awareness he calls Gefuhl,
and we translate as feeling.
Okay. Let’s come up for some air.
What does all this have to do with reshaping the Christian Church? I said at the beginning of this series that
each of the four people we would examine caused a worldwide shift in Christian
thought. How did the notion of religion
being not so much intellectual, or moral, but rather a feeling of absolute
dependence—how did that change the course of Christianity?
First, it provided an avenue for
intelligent men and women to embrace the faith. Schleiermacher stood toe to toe with the greatest atheistic minds
of his day and showed there was still a place for God and religion in their
philosophies. Second, he rescued
Christianity from superstition. For
Schleiermacher, if your theology didn’t take you to that point of absolute
dependence, then it served no purpose.
Faith was no longer about what doctrines you believed. Either you recognize your dependence on God
or you don’t. If you do, you’re on the
right path. If you don’t, you’re going
through life wearing blinders. You’re
missing the whole point.
And this is the most important
legacy of Schleiermacher. Religion does
not stand in opposition to science. He
reinterpreted all the central doctrines of Christianity in a way that did not
contradict modern science. And for
that, he is known as the “father of liberalism.”
In many ways, Schleiermacher was a
mystic. In the mystical traditions of
Christianity, and for that matter the mystical side of all religions, there is
a sense of the individual self being absorbed into the whole. Some describe the mystical outlook this way:
Compare God to the ocean. Each
individual is like a wave rising out of the ocean. Each person is unique, and special, but we all come from the same
place and are made of the same thing.
And once the wave realizes its very nature is water—the ocean—it loses
all fear. It may change forms, but it
will always exist as a part of the ocean.
Because Schleiermacher combined
science and mysticism, he did not concern himself with miracles, doctrines of
creation, the afterlife, or any of the other religious doctrines that people
then and now argue about incessantly.
Religion is all about the relationship between a person and God.
Reading Schleiermacher’s first book
played a significant role in my decision to go to seminary. My copy of that book has more passages
underlined than any other book on my shelf.
There is no time to go in depth into his theology, but I do want to
explore, for just a moment, his thoughts on eternal life.
Some might think that since he
accepted science so completely, and since he viewed a human being as something
entirely dependent on God for its existence, Schleiermacher would not have
believed in the afterlife, or eternal life.
His thoughts on this subject are quite complex, but he did indeed
believe there is more to us than this life of mortal flesh. These are Schleiermacher’s words regarding
immortality:
I believe…each one bears in
himself an unchangeable and eternal nature.
If our gefuhl (feeling of absolute dependence) nowhere attaches itself
to the individual, but if its content is our relation to God wherein all that
is individual and fleeting disappears, there can be nothing fleeting in it, but
all must be eternal.
Allow me to unpack that. According to Schleiermacher, that place
inside of us where we are anchored to God—that place where we acknowledge our
absolute dependence on God—that relationship—that feeling—is eternal. Not everything about us is eternal. That is why we should anchor ourselves on
God, because it is our point of contact with God that is eternal. It is from Schleiermacher’s thinking on this
subject that I have gained my own beliefs regarding eternal life: Every part
of a person that deserves to live forever will. That’s why we should love others and love all creation with
reckless abandon. That’s why the
subject of God, and religion, deserves our attention. Along with Schleiermacher, I can’t imagine God sending a person
into some unending punishment. They
will simply cease to be. That part of
us which is aware of its absolute dependence on God, and responds to that
dependence with love, is eternal.
As for Christ, Schleiermacher
believed that Jesus Christ was completely God-conscious—that Christ was in full
relationship with God, and is therefore completely eternal. And it is through our own communion with
that God-conscious Christ that we enter most fully into relationship with God.
Schleiermacher has in many ways been
lost to history. He is studied in the
seminaries, but few outside the halls of academia have ever heard his
name. When he died in 1834, however, he
was very well known. It is reported
that over forty-thousand people showed up for his funeral. That, in a time before mass-communication,
testifies to his significance.
Modern theologically liberal
ministers are indebted to this great man.
He really did rescue our faith from superstition. More than anybody since St. Thomas Aquinas,
Schleiermacher made it acceptable to arrive at church with a fully functioning
brain. There is no line in the sand
between those who are intelligent and scientific, and those who are devout and
religious. If science sees no need of
religion, it is blinded to the truth.
If religion rejects science, it is nothing more than superstition.
In bringing this series to a close,
I should mention the primary reason Schleiermacher largely disappeared from
public discussion. He believed the
Kingdom of God was here on earth—at least, the only part of the kingdom you and
I can affect. He thought that together
we could work toward a much more perfect world, with God at its center, and
with men and women the world over working for peace and justice.
Many thought the 20th
Century would be the time when humanity began to live up to its purpose. Instead, from the very beginning of the
century, war after war marred the earth.
The First World War, and the Second, saw the use of technology to bring
forth previously unheard of destruction.
Schleiermacher would be considered the greatest theologian of the 19th
Century, but Karl Barth would be the greatest and most influential of the 20th
Century theologians. Barth held that
humanity was not even close to being perfectible. In fact, Barth said that contrary to Schleiermacher, there is
nothing of God in a human being. God is
wholly other. And the only point of
contact between God and the human being—the only goodness to be found in
humankind—is the spirit of Christ that God puts there after a person accepts
Jesus as his or her personal savior.
That is the theology that has ruled
the church through the 20th Century. There are those of us who are throwbacks to Schleiermacher. Bob and I certainly stand much more in his
tradition than in Barth’s. And like
every other liberal theologian in the world, we cringe when humanity proves
itself, time and again, unable to resolve its differences without resort to
war. Whenever brother kills brother,
Schleiermacher is relegated more and more to the margins of history, and Barth,
along with Calvin, grows in stature, their belief that humanity is hopelessly
depraved being written time and again in blood across our hurting world.
Well, this has been
challenging. The entire four-part
series was challenging to research and write, and I know it has been
challenging to listen to. When you
think about it, Christian theology has bounced back and forth through the ages
like a pinball. Just consider our
little series: Paul said it was all about faith, and philosophy had nothing to
do with it. Justyn Martyr and Origen
said we could reconcile mind and heart.
Augustine used his brain like nobody before or since, but ultimately
said it was all about faith. St. Thomas
Aquinas rediscovered Greek philosophy, bringing an end to the Dark Ages and
reconciling head and heart. Martin
Luther had a tortured soul and a brilliant mind, but ultimately said it’s all
about faith and grace, and nothing more.
Then Frederick Schleiermacher insisted we could once again bring our
full mental faculties to the church, and made a place for both honest science
and honest religion in the Christian faith. And finally, Karl Barth, with some help from the 20th
Century, insisted the gap between Creator and creation is infinite, bridgeable
only by faith in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
We’re still bouncing around! I for one, with great devotion to Jesus
Christ, still believe humanity is basically good. And I still believe we are supposed to bring head and heart fully
to worship. And most important of all,
I still believe that God is responsible for what lies beyond the grave, and we
are responsible for what lies on this side of the grave, and if we aren’t here
to love one another and make an honest attempt to build the Kingdom of God
right here on earth, I can’t imagine why we are here.
Blessings on you all, and thank you
for being so attentive through what I know was a series of sermons that were
much more information than inspiration.
Any time I start doubting that the Kingdom of God is among us, all I
have to do is look out at your faces.