Abstract
A reconsideration of the late Bishop John Austin Baker’s seminal book The Foolishness of God.
In the late 1980s, John Bowden, the remarkable head of SCM Press for some 34 years, contacted John Austin Baker (1928–2014) about a possible reprint of his celebrated book The Foolishness of God (Darton, Longman and Todd, London, 1970). The investigation was short-lived, as Baker hinted that he no longer entirely shared all the views expounded in that volume. Seemingly he changed his mind again, since in 1990 it was reprinted by the original publishers as a ‘DLT Classic’. 1 At the time of its publication and throughout the 1970s, Baker’s classic was much admired. It had been published at a critical moment. The 1960s, a period of some excitement in Western culture generally, had been a time of equal ferment and controversy in theology. Lack of any stunning national or international news led The Observer to include in its Weekend Review on Sunday 17 March 1963 an article by John Robinson, then Bishop of Woolwich. The sub-editors, always on the look-out for an eye-catching headline, gave the piece the title Our Image of God Must Go. 2
Honest to God, 3 Robinson’s paperback, published the following Tuesday, became a sensation. It sold well over a million copies, was translated into 17 languages and is still in print. Effectively, it brought together the work of Rudolf Bultmann, 4 notably his arguments about demythologizing; Paul Tillich’s existential theology and particularly the phrases ‘ultimate concern’ and ‘the ground of our being’ (a phrase lifted from Augustine’s writings some 1,500 years earlier), 5 and Dietrich’s Bonhoeffer’s religionless Christianity and his aphorism ‘Jesus Christ, the man for others’. 6 Robinson’s book drew more attention than it would have deserved without the Observer article. Ironically, in some of his later New Testament scholarship, Robinson was quite conservative. It did, however, herald an age of radical theological writing. Harvey Cox’s The Secular City 7 explored the impact of such reflection for the Church and society. Thomas Altizer, 8 William Hamilton, Paul Van Buren 9 and others explored what became known as ‘Death of God Theology’, picking up that phrase from the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche. Altizer rejected a transcendent God and opted for a God of pure immanence who could be encountered within the community of faith.
Any objective review of John Austin Baker’s book needs to be set within this excitable and frothy scenario. By any estimate, it is a substantial piece of work and, seen within a contemporary critical light, it is unusual in a number of ways. First, for a book of such depth and comprehensiveness, there is no scholarly apparatus displayed; there are a minimal number of footnotes and these relate almost entirely to explicatory comments on specific points. There is no bibliography and – rather irritatingly – there is no index. This was a period within which truly outstanding and respected scholars could somehow assume that others would instinctively know of the likely sources of secondary scholarship. In this aspect of his work, Baker followed his great mentor, Austin Farrer, who sat equally light to scholarly apparatus.
Second, both in its remarkable apologetic introductory first section, and in its use and reference to Scripture, Baker’s work is a supreme example of that theological method that became known as critical realism. In the context of the late 1960s, Baker was clear that theology and theological dialogue must stand on its own critical feet. It could assume no privileged position within cultural and philosophical dialogue. Baker’s work preceded that later movement which became more sceptical of enlightenment critiques of the tradition; 10 he remained within the critical pattern of scholarship. At the same time, however, his sympathy certainly did not lie with the non-realists like Altizer, Hamilton and Van Buren, who in some ways were precursors of Don Cupitt 11 and the ‘Sea of Faith’ school. Baker engages directly with Altizer and Hamilton and clearly prescinds from their theological approach.
It should not be assumed, however, that his critique embraced a shift in the direction of Karl Barth and Neo-Orthodoxy. Here Baker’s critique is intriguing. He is critical of what might be described as the ‘wet’ and inadequate theology espoused by Dick Sheppard and others in the 1930s. 12 He also rejects Karl Barth’s ‘crisis theology’: ‘its denial that human reason is of any fundamental use in the discovery of God is ensuring that in the end it too will cease to communicate effectively’. 13 So, he opts firmly for an approach that combines revelation with ‘natural theology’. Interestingly, he pairs Barth with Bultmann: ‘ … they might seem to be the most distant and diametric opposites. In fact, however, they belong very firmly on the same side of a fence much bigger than any that divides them.’ 14 It is Barthianism, he notes, which ultimately gives birth to Altizer and ‘death of God theology’.
What sort of book is this then? It is not a systematic theology but rather a pursuit of ‘truth for life’. In the first line of his ‘Foreword’, Baker notes: ‘Any work which like the present one tries to set out a reasonably unified vision of the whole Christian faith and life’. 15 In this half sentence he sets out his aim. In pursuing such an aim, he is almost certainly bound to engage with apologetic, and his first section is certainly of that genre. His second scriptural analysis equally has an apologetic aim, as does his final section on the Church and the Christian life. Here is classical Anglican inductive theology. It begins not with a deductive codified statement of the Christian faith as encountered in the Roman Catholic Catechism of the Catholic Church, 16 nor of the Reformed approach as in Jean Calvin’s Institutes. 17 Instead, Baker begins with what he calls ‘The Ultimate Question’, then moves on to Scripture to focus upon Jesus and finally looks to the practical implications of Christian belief.
Of course, within a period of almost 50 years, scholarship has advanced. Despite that, however, the overall argument retains an integrity and credibility upon which one might build a revised apologetic which still speaks intelligently and avoids some of the ‘fashions’ which before and since have ceased to convince.
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Baker begins then with ‘The Ultimate Question’. He reverts to first principles treading a phenomenological pathway towards religious belief. The first clearing along that pathway takes us into the essence of the Jewish God. The nation’s loyalty to that deity leads to the vindication of Jerusalem – the beginnings of soteriology emerge. From here a philosophical highway leads forward. ‘In this present work it is proposed to adopt a rationalist approach … ’ 18 This approach, however, avoids a crude rationalism, opening up into a natural theology. In referring to Wittgenstein, he rejects philosophically the agnosticism of ‘Whereof we cannot speak, thereof we should remain silent’ and embraces instead Wittgenstein’s nod towards enchantment: ‘It is not how the world is but that it is which is the mystical.’ 19 For Baker, the world points towards the existence of God rather than leaving humanity metaphysically muted. Things are as they are because of something or someone outside ourselves – immanence (so trumpeted by Altizer and others) is held in tension with transcendence. God is the sole determinant of creation. Baker next engages with ‘the world’s sorrow’. Out of pain spring some crucial human virtues: ‘ … we do need our kind of world if … good ends are to be combined with certain others: adventure, courage, disinterested goodness, loyalty, concern, sacrifice and love.’ 20
This discussion naturally issues into engagement with moral good and evil. Ethics requires some rules: ‘The first and most obvious value of a rule is to guard against some universally disastrous event.’ 21 The menace of modern warfare is his key example. Interestingly, it was Baker who would chair the Church of England Commission that produced the report, The Church and the Bomb, 22 much later in 1982, when he was Bishop of Salisbury. That report condemned the policy of deterrence and controversially supported unilateral nuclear disarmament. The General Synod debate on the report was the last Synod debate broadcast live on a main television network. Baker expands on his first key principle, noting the need of a rule to draw the line – Nazi Germany and ‘life and death’ issues (euthanasia and abortion) are issues he cites. Rules are seen as safeguards to building virtues rather than ends in themselves; the pursuit of good, like the pursuit of theological truth requires the use of reason. As his argument develops it embraces issues of freedom and goodwill. The Judaeo-Christian God whose character has emerged from Baker’s careful philosophical-theological reflection is ‘ … a God who lays upon us the necessity of living in relationship … above all … a God who makes it impossible to achieve any of these things except in freedom, creating them out of our own inner resources, assenting to them by a voluntary loyalty … ’ 23 The supreme values of (our) God are a sacrifice and costliness. The culmination of this part of Baker’s argument leads back to the title of his book: ‘If there is a God, who is responsible for these things, this is the only kind of God he can be … At the end of the most fundamental and significant of all its quests – the wisdom of Man finds itself face to face with the foolishness of God.’ 24
From broad theological analysis, Baker moves on to the realm of biblical studies, to which he gave much of his life as an academic. From the start, Baker’s second section, titled simply ‘Jesus of Nazareth’, unashamedly embraces the full critical apparatus developed by biblical scholars over the past three centuries. The Bible is not inerrant. Nonetheless, Baker is clear that with careful analysis and scholarship the New Testament is capable of giving us the crucial outlines of the life and teaching of the historical figure of Jesus. Indeed, he is equally clear that a proper focus and, ultimately, devotion to Jesus of Nazareth is essential to Christian belief and life. At no point, however, does Baker blanch from facing the critical issues. On occasions, Jesus was clearly wrong on matters about which we now know more. How could he be anything else if he truly is the incarnation of God within our humanity?
So, a number of the key critical themes are explored with a proper attention to detail: the meaning of terms like Son of God and Son of Man are essential to such a study. How precisely did Jesus understand his mission and his own relationship to God. Baker’s aim is to paint a portrait of Jesus that helps us understand who Jesus was and how we can properly understand the nature of God as we outline this portrait. By this time, both redaction and literary critical methods had become highly sophisticated. Redaction criticism enables us to appreciate how each separate evangelist reports the person and phenomenon of Jesus from their own particular standpoint and context. The significance of this purposeful analysis is spelt out: ‘If we ask why Christianity turned out as it has done, or why the New Testament writers developed their particular religious ideas and not some quite different ones, or why their own notions and inclinations are often quite clearly struggling with some very refractory material, then the answer is: Jesus … It was Jesus with whom it all began.’ 25
In an attractive reversal, Baker takes us into the heart of the impact of Jesus by referring to ‘The World’s Joy’ in contrast to his earlier chapter referring to ‘The World’s Sorrow’. He emphasizes the specific, particular, historical nature of Christianity: Jesus was a first-century Palestinian. The world’s joy is focused in the resurrection of Jesus. Baker first analyses the events preceding the death of Jesus. He is clear that Jesus was not a revolutionary. Was he a rabbi? Baker does not directly answer this question; for indeed here scholarship was making strides as the book was being prepared for publication. The work of Geza Vermes and other contemporary Semitic scholars was seminal. Vermes’ book Jesus the Jew set Jesus more firmly within his own time and context. 26 Vermes compares and contrasts him with other holy men and inspired teachers of the time in Palestine. Within this compass, however, Baker argued that Jesus saw the coming ‘end-time’ in the same way as others of his time: ‘Jesus expected that judgment would be followed by the setting up of the Kingdom of God on earth.’ 27
Baker is equally clear that Jesus’ own picture of God’s plan was wrong. So, Jesus’ desolate recalling Psalm 22 on the cross, is undoubtedly authentic. Sequentially: ‘in his lifetime Jesus had constantly refused to perform supernatural conjuring tricks in order to impress. This still holds good. The resurrection is not there to bludgeon into submission those for whom the Gospel … is a closed book.’ 28 Baker discusses the resurrection in some detail, beginning with Mark’s account, which (excepting references to the resurrection by St Paul) is believed by most scholars to be the earliest account of the resurrection. He believes that Mark’s abrupt, even enigmatic ending at 16.8 is explained by a lost ending. He accepts that verses 9–20, added by some sources, is a spurious ending. Significant numbers of scholars, however, now assume 16.8 to be the original conclusion. This makes sense in the light of redaction critical analyses of Mark. 29 It may be safest to assume that this is where the Gospel ended; New Testament scholarship has advanced from the received assumptions when Baker was writing.
More specifically, Baker’s concern is to emphasize the ‘reality of the resurrection’. 30 The resurrection confirms rather than reveals. 31 So he notes: ‘The thesis which the resurrection confirms might seem to have two separate components – “that there is a God and that he designates Jesus as the one true Man.” But these are … two aspects of one indistinguishable reality.’ 32 Crucial to his argument on the resurrection is that: ‘The risen Jesus is still the crucified Jesus, and the resurrection is not regarded as correcting, reversing or cancelling the cross.’ 33 Alongside Baker’s stress on the reality of the resurrection, he is equally clear that the New Testament is not tied purely to the ‘empty grave’ narratives; this is clear from the very different Pauline material. Nonetheless, he stresses the objectivity of a happening rooted in history and not a purely visionary experience. Some later interpreters are critical here, and we shall return to this in our conclusion.
The final section of the book is titled simply ‘What shall we do?’ Baker is consistently realistic about the nature of the Church – even the Church is fallen. In Jesus, we can discover a radical critique of the Church. He is equally clear that his earlier argument assumes that the Church predicates a particular way of living which demands its own imperatives. Much of his discussion of the Church and how we view its vocation and life bears pondering today. He calls for an open Church that is prepared to ask the perennial radical questions about the nature of ordained ministry and the significance of church buildings. He argues for a catholic understanding in both these areas but not uncritically. Proper education of the Church’s ordained minsters is a key priority and is rooted in theology. 34 Proper fulfilment in the ministerial life is also a priority but he notes: ‘The answer, however, is not to be found in supplying a more elaborate career structure.’ 35 Some of the reflection here is of its time, but even his critique of ‘group ministries’ has a contemporary resonance. There are sharp challenges here to the current managerial culture with its emphasis on process rather than theology.
Baker’s conclusions return to Scripture since Scripture relates to the unique event of Jesus. After this, he focuses on worship. He is critical of John Robinson in Honest to God: ‘a theologian’s view on worship … indicates most accurately whether God is for him an objective personal reality or not.’ 36 Sacramental worship and private prayer are both at the heart, alongside the central importance of sacrifice; on sacrifice, he quotes the Puritan divine, Richard Baxter. This final chapter, immediately preceding his brief postscript, has a dynamic poetic feel to it. Baker’s integrity is powerfully communicated as he combines rigorous theological analysis, and a critical use of Scripture, with a clear sign that ‘the Church’ must predicate 37 moral action individually and in community. All begins and ends in prayer and worship. In his brief postscript, he notes powerfully: ‘I am proud to be human not because of my own history or that of the race – I know too well what these have been – but because of Jesus; and I claim the right to exist not for what I am in myself but as his brother.’ 38
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Baker has not been without his critics. His willingness to stand firm occupying high moral ground could be uncomfortable for others. But his integrity and ability to combine scholarship, prayer and a proper moral courage are rare and palpable throughout this book which is undoubtedly his great work. His approach to the resurrection has provoked criticism recently. Robert Reiss contrasts Baker’s views with those of the doctrinal writings of Maurice Wiles, Geoffrey Lampe and others which are far more sceptical. 39 He concludes that Baker took the line he did because of the role he occupied as a bishop in the Church: this blunted his critical faculties. Reiss refers to both The Foolishness of God and also to Baker’s later book, The Faith of a Christian. 40 Baker, however, finished writing the first book in 1968, 14 years before his ordination to the episcopate and his views on the resurrection remained consistent. It is quite unjust effectively to question his intellectual integrity and base this on inaccurate evidence. Oddly enough, Baker’s book feels fresher. Reiss’s analysis echoes the earlier 1960s – the very culture to which Baker was responding.
Of course, there are signs of the book’s provenance within its context. Exclusive language was a mark of its time, but it can jar with the contemporary reader. Doubtless Baker would have adjusted that had he produced a fully revised edition. Also biblical scholarship has marched on, but for the most, much of Baker’s analysis remains credible and remarkably current. This book is in many ways a unique project. Undeniably apologetic it is still systematic. It is beautifully written: ‘He writes like an angel’, one commentator reflected. His literary ability made him the scribe for several Church of England reports – notably the Doctrine Commission report, Christian Believing. 41 The report’s conclusions were fiercely criticized by some, but the attractiveness and lucidity of the writing was universally acclaimed. The Foolishness of God remains a rich and nourishing resource; a critical but appreciative reading of it remains of great value to any in training for ministry, for ordained clergy and for all who would learn more of the Christian faith and be challenged by it: ‘The Foolishness of God is wiser than men.’ 42