Emil Brunner E-Book

Alister E. McGrath

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Seitenzahl: 587

Beschreibung

In Emil Brunner: A Reappraisal, renowned theologian Alister E. McGrath presents a comprehensive intellectual history of Emil Brunner, the highly influential Swiss theologian who was instrumental in shaping modern Protestant theology. * Explores Brunner's theological development and offers a critical engagement of his theology * Examines the role that Brunner played in shaping the characteristics of dialectical theology * Reveals the complex and shifting personal and professional relationship between Brunner and Barth * Delves into the reasons for Brunner's contemporary neglect in theological scholarship * Represents the only book-length study of Brunner's works and significance in the English language

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Praise for Emil Brunner: A Reappraisal

Also by Alister E. McGrath from Wiley Blackwell

Title page

Copyright page

Preface

A Note on Translations and Editions

1: Emil Brunner: The Origins of a Theological Mind, 1914–1924

Theological Studies at Zurich

Pastoral Ministry and Contacts in England

The Swiss Crisis of Identity, 1914–1919

Brunner and Dialectical Theology: The Origins of an Ambivalent Relationship

Brunner in America, 1919–1920

Brunner, Barth, and Thurneysen: Continuing Debate

The Quest for Recognition: Erlebnis, Erkenntnis und Glaube (1921–2)

Brunner and American Psychology of Religion

The Limits of Humanity: Reflections on Revelation and Reason (1922)

The Critique of Schleiermacher: Die Mystik und das Wort (1924)

Part I: The Making of a Dialectical Theologian

2: Brunner's Theology of Crisis: Critique and Construction, 1924–1929

The 1925 Inaugural Lecture at Zurich: Revelation and Theology

Reason and Theology: An Ecclesial Engagement (1927)

The Mediator: A Manifesto for Dialectical Theology (1927)

The Trinity: Dogma, not Kerygma

The American Reception of the “Theology of Crisis” (1928)

3: Reflections on the Tasks of Theology, 1929–1933

Crisis: The Rise of Ideology in Western Europe, 1920–1935

Brunner's Challenge to Ideology: The “Other Task of Theology” (1929)

Presenting Dialectical Theology in Britain: The Word and the World (1931)

A Theological Ethics: The Divine Imperative (1932)

A Problematic Liaison: Brunner and the Oxford Group

The Work of the Holy Spirit: The Copenhagen Lectures (1934)

4: Natural Theology? The Barth–Brunner Debate of 1934

Natural Theology: A Contested Notion

Karl Barth's Views on Natural Theology, 1918–1933

A Game-Changer: The Nazi Power Grab of 1933

Brunner's Public Criticism of Barth: Nature and Grace (1934)

Brunner's Later Views on Natural Theology: Revelation and Reason (1941)

Barth's Response: No! (1934)

5: Brunner's Theological Anthropology: Man in Revolt (1937)

The Need for a Theological Anthropology

The Impossibility of an “Objective” Anthropology

The Dependence of Humanity on God

The “Contradiction” within Humanity

The Image of God and Human Identity

Humanity and Evolution: The Limits of Darwinism

6: Objectivity and Subjectivity in Theology: Truth as Encounter (1937)

Object and Subject in Theology: The Context to Brunner's Thought

Objectivity and Subjectivity: Brunner's Criticism of Existing Paradigms

Overcoming the Object-Subject Impasse: Brunner's Strategy

The Implications of Brunner's Notion of “Truth as Encounter”

America: The Call to Princeton Theological Seminary, 1937–1939

Part II: Consolidation: Brunner's Vision for Post-War Theological Reconstruction

7: Brunner's Vision for the Christian Community: The Church, State, and Culture

The Ideological Origins of Totalitarianism

An Antidote to Totalitarianism: The Renewal of Natural Law

The Need for Theological Reconstruction: Revelation and Reason (1941)

The Christian State: A Modest Theological Proposal

Rediscovering the Church as Community: Brunner's Ecclesiology

8: Teacher and Preacher: Brunner as a Public Intellectual

Rector of the University of Zurich, 1942–1943

The Catechist: Our Faith (1935)

The Fraumünster Sermons: Brunner as Preacher

The Public Lecturer: The Scandal of Christianity

Theological Education: Brunner's Dogmatics

Tokyo: Brunner's Engagement with Asia

Final Illness and Death

9: Legacy: The Contemporary Significance of Emil Brunner's Theology

The Reformed Tradition: A Richer Range of Possibilities

A Theology of Nature: The Basis of Natural Law, Theology, and Science

Cultural Engagement: The Theological Foundations of Apologetics

Personalism: The Defence of Relational Identity

The Trinity: A Plea for Theological Modesty

Conclusion

Works by Emil Brunner Cited in This Study

Index

Praise for Emil Brunner: A Reappraisal

“McGrath's consummate skills as both a theologian and a historian are masterfully at work in this penetrating and highly illuminating study arguing for the importance and continuing vital relevance to current theological and cultural debates of one of the twentieth century's largely forgotten major theological voices. Exhibiting the same sagacious understanding, balanced discernment and astute critical insight that we have come to admire and value so highly in McGrath, this intensively researched and captivating book brings together for the first time an enormous wealth of original source material yielding important new insights and contexts for a compelling reassessment and reappropriation of Brunner's legacy. The book will serve not only as an inspired catalyst for renewed attention to Brunner but also as an indispensable resource base for further research, whether on Brunner himself or on the doctrinal and cultural issues that animated him and to which he continues to contribute so richly and relevantly.”

Paul Janz, King's College London

“Professor Alister McGrath's meticulously researched and lucid exposition and assessment of Emil Brunner's legacy is a landmark publishing event not only for the better understanding of modern Reformed theology but also of twentieth-century theology at large. More than just a theological biography or an introduction to Brunner's theological writings, this monograph helps us rediscover the critical and constructive role this Swiss theologian, too often left in the shadow of Barth, played in the wider theological world on both sides of the Atlantic. The book serves not only theological scholars and students but also a wider Christian audience interested in the development of contemporary theology.”

Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, University of Helsinki

Also by Alister E. McGrath from Wiley Blackwell

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Historical Theology: An Introduction to the History of Christian Thought, second edition (2012)

Reformation Thought: An Introduction, fourth edition (2012)

Theology: The Basic Readings, second edition (edited, 2012)

Theology: The Basics, third edition (2012)

Luther's Theology of the Cross: Martin Luther's Theological Breakthrough, second edition (2011)

Darwinism and the Divine: Evolutionary Thought and Natural Theology (2011)

The Christian Theology Reader, fourth edition (edited, 2011)

Christian Theology: An Introduction, fifth edition (2011)

Science and Religion: A New Introduction, second edition (2009)

The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology (2008)

The Order of Things: Explorations in Scientific Theology (2006)

Christianity: An Introduction, second edition (2006)

Dawkins' God: Genes, Memes, and the Meaning of Life (2004)

The Intellectual Origins of the European Reformation, second edition (2003)

A Brief History of Heaven (2003)

The Blackwell Companion to Protestantism (edited with Darren C. Marks, 2003)

The Future of Christianity (2002)

Reformation Thought: An Introduction, third edition (2000)

Christian Spirituality: An Introduction (1999)

Historical Theology: An Introduction (1998)

The Foundations of Dialogue in Science and Religion (1998)

The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Modern Christian Thought (edited, 1995)

A Life of John Calvin (1990)

This edition first published 2014

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Cover image: Emil Brunner at Princeton Theological Seminary, c.1938. Courtesy of Special Collections, Princeton Theological Seminary Library.

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Preface

In his time, Emil Brunner (1889–1966) was acclaimed as one of the greatest and most influential theologians of the twentieth century, especially in the United States of America. From the 1930s to the early 1960s, it is arguable that no single theologian exercised so extensive and pervasive an influence on American and British theologians and preachers.1 It is easy to see why Brunner garnered such acclaim and gained such a following. Few have failed to notice his grace and clarity of theological exposition, his easy familiarity with the ways and concerns of British and American Christianity, and his clear commitment to the life and witness of the church.

His rise to fame in the English-speaking world was as inevitable as it was justified. Brunner spent two year-long periods as a visiting professor at seminaries in the United States, and delivered the prestigious Gifford Lectures at St Andrew's University in 1946–7. In the period of post-war theological reconstruction in the 1950s and 1960s, he was widely seen as offering the church a defensible and positive platform from which to begin its reconnection with society and the world of ideas. Austin Farrer (1904–68), perhaps one of the finest Anglican theologians of the twentieth century,2 was one of many English-speaking theologians of the 1930s to recognize Brunner's merits. After reading Brunner's The Mediator, he commented in a letter of March 1931 that Brunner “is Barth with the rhetoric pulled out and thought inserted in its place”.3

Yet today Brunner is largely forgotten. Even in his native Switzerland, interest in him is dwindling. The Emil Brunner Stiftung, founded in February 1973 to promote interest in Brunner and produce editions of his works, was dissolved in November 2011.4 What was once a torrent of publications concerning him has dwindled to a trickle. Rarely is he the subject of theological monographs or articles; he is more often used to provide an angle of gaze or point of comparison from which to assess and understand others – most notably, Karl Barth.5 Brunner is often read through a Barthian interpretative lens, and found to be wanting by Barthian standards – especially in relation to their controversy of 1934.6

Brunner's complex relationship with Barth remains incompletely understood. Some have suggested that Brunner had an “inferiority complex” in relation to Barth,7 which led him to cultivate Barth's personal acquaintance and seek his theological approval for his projects. Brunner wanted to be affirmed by Barth and at the same time felt threatened by him. For his part, Barth never had a particularly high regard for Brunner, and gradually came to see no reason to conceal this.

Although this tension in Brunner's attitude towards Barth is probably best seen in the years immediately preceding the 1934 controversy over natural theology, it had clearly developed earlier. In the autumn of 1927 Barth was invited to explore the possibility of returning to Switzerland from Germany to take up a chair in dogmatics at the University of Berne. He mentioned this to Brunner, and asked what he made of the possibility.8 Brunner's reply, though positive in some respects, indicated unease over the move, partly because of the potentially negative impact on his own reputation in Switzerland, and partly because of its implications for student enrolment at Zurich.9 In the end, nothing came of the move; yet this development presaged similar anxieties when Barth eventually left Germany to return to Switzerland in 1935 as a result of his opposition to National Socialism. Even in the 1920s, Brunner realized that he was overshadowed by Barth, and eventually learned to live with this, however reluctantly. As one of Brunner's more perceptive colleagues remarked in 1933,10 Brunner's troubled relationship with Barth was a “totally personal cross” that Brunner would have to learn to bear.

It has long seemed to me that there is a need to reappraise the theological legacy of Emil Brunner. He may have fallen out of theological fashion; he nevertheless offered, and continues to offer, a vision for Christian theology and the life of the Christian church which resonates with the concerns of today. Brunner has not been refuted; he has been neglected.11 More than a generation has passed since his death, and such a reconsideration is clearly overdue.

This work is not primarily a biography of Brunner, nor an introduction to his theology. It is an exploration of the development of his thought, primarily in the 1920s and 1930s, set against the intellectual and cultural context of the age, leading into an assessment of his theological vision, and an attempt to make connections with our own context. In the course of the volume, I shall consider traditional questions of historical importance (such as Brunner's place in the development of dialectical theology, and the historical emergence of his theological vision) and theological interest (such as his complex – and generally misunderstood – views on natural theology). Yet Brunner's comprehensive vision of the tasks and possibilities of theology allowed apologetics, mission, ethics, social responsibility, pedagogy, practical theology, and preaching to be woven together as interconnected aspects of a coherent and greater whole, rather than forcing them to be seen as isolated and independent themes. It is a powerful, compelling account of the theological enterprise, which cries out to be engaged, assessed, and applied.

This book has taken a quarter of a century to write. Much of the research originally underlying it was undertaken at the University of Zurich in 1986 and 1989. My primary reason for visiting Zurich on both occasions was to make use of its research archives specializing in sixteenth-century intellectual history, especially in the University of Zurich's Institute for Swiss Reformation History. The university's Faculty of Theology was located in the same building, allowing me to begin a serious and extended engagement with Brunner's works, and the secondary literature concerning him.

It took a long time to reflect on my initial readings of Brunner, setting them against the context of the intellectual history of western Europe in the twentieth century, and my own reflections on the tasks of theology. The recent publication (2006) of Frank Jehle's reliable and thorough biography of Brunner12 prompted me to bring together some lines of thought that had been preoccupying me for more than two decades, leading to the present study. This extended process of reflection has allowed me to understand and appreciate Brunner more deeply, and suggests that the time has come to reconsider his significance for the challenges facing both the academic discipline of theology and the needs of the churches in the twenty-first century.

Alister E. McGrath

King's College London, 2013

Notes

1J. Robert Nelson, “Emil Brunner – The Final Encounter.” Christian Century 83, no. 16 (1966): 486.

2Robert MacSwain, “Above, Beside, Within: The Anglican Theology of Austin Farrer.” Journal of Anglican Studies 4 (2006): 33–57.

3Cited in Philip Curtis, A Hawk among Sparrows: A Biography of Austin Farrer. London: SPCK, 1985, 79.

4The Stiftung was founded and supported by the Evangelisch-Reformierte Landeskirche des Kantons Zürich. See Handelsregisteramt des Kantons Zürich, record CH-020.7.900.670-0.

5See, for example, John C. McDowell, “Karl Barth, Emil Brunner and the Subjectivity of the Object of Christian Hope.” International Journal of Systematic Theology 8 (2006): 25–41. A further point to be noted here is that Brunner often stands in the middle of complex theological debates, and thus tends to be excluded from consideration by those who find it easier to adopt or defend their extremes: see Mark G. McKim, “Brunner the Ecumenist: Emil Brunner as a Vox Media of Protestant Theology.” Calvin Theological Journal 32 (1997): 91–104.

6Claus Westermann, “Karl Barths Nein. Eine Kontroverse um die theologia naturalis. Emil Brunner–Karl Barth (1934) in perspektiven des Alten Testaments.” Evangelische Theologie 47 (1987): 386–95; Klaus-Peter Blaser, “Communiquer l'incommunicable révélation: Le conflit Barth-Brunner revisité à la lumière de leur correspondance.” Etudes Théologiques et Religieuses 78 (2003): 59–67; Gerhard Sauter, “Theologisch miteinander streiten: Karl Barths Auseinandersetzung mit Emil Brunner.” In Karl Barth in Deutschland (1921–1935): Aufbruch – Klärung – Widerstand, ed. Michael Beintker, Christian Link, and Michael Trowitzsch, 267–84. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2005.

7See, for example, Eduard Thurnseysen's letter to Barth on this point, written on 21 October 1930: Karl Barth–Eduard Thurneysen Briefwechsel. 3 vols. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1974, vol. 3, 56.

8Barth to Brunner, 30 October 1927: Karl Barth–Emil Brunner, Briefwechsel, 159–60. See further Eberhard Busch, Karl Barth: His Life from Letters and Autobiographical Texts. London: SCM Press, 1976, 175–6.

9Brunner to Barth, 1 November 1927; Karl Barth–Emil Brunner, Briefwechsel, 160–3.

10Frank Jehle, Emil Brunner: Theologe im 20. Jahrhundert. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2006, 295.

11See the comments of Cynthia Bennett Brown, “The Personal Imperative of Revelation: Emil Brunner, Dogmatics and Theological Existence.” Scottish Journal of Theology 65, no. 4 (2012): 421–34.

12See n. 10 above.

A Note on Translations and Editions

Brunner's works, listed in the bibliography at the end of this study, are referred to by their short titles, in English or German.1 Where a work has been translated into English, the English short title has been used within the text to refer to it. Thus Der Mensch im Widerspruch is referred to as Man in Revolt, despite the failure of this English title to reflect Brunner's key anthropological theme of “contradiction”, which is explicitly stated in the original German title. (Brunner occasionally expressed irritation and frustration over the English titles of his works.)

Unusually for a German-speaking theologian of that period, Brunner was perfectly comfortable lecturing in English. As a result, several of his major books, which were based on lectures originally delivered in the United States and Great Britain, were published in English, and never appeared in German during his lifetime – most notably, his Gifford Lectures at St Andrew's University. Some of his works originally published in German were never translated into English, and are referred to only by their German short titles.

Although Brunner has been fortunate in having many English translators,2 this has led to a certain degree of inconsistency in rendering his often dense German prose, occasionally made worse by the decision to omit material deemed to lack interest to English-speaking readers. There are also points at which Brunner's theological intentions have been rendered opaquely, and occasionally inaccurately. Given these difficulties, I have made my own translations of his original German works throughout this study, and refer readers on to the appropriate place in existing English translations. Brunner's German, especially in his early writings, is not always easily rendered in English, forcing his translators to use paraphrases and circumlocutions more frequently than many would like. In translating, I have tried to be consistent wherever possible, while bringing out the theological sense of the original German.

The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge the kindness of TVZ Theologischer Verlag Zürich AG in permitting the reproduction of copyright material originally published in German.

Notes

1Unless otherwise indicated, Brunner's shorter publications are referred to in the collected edition Ein offenes Wort: Vorträge und Aufsätze 1917–1962. 2 vols. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1981.

2Most notably, the formidable Olive Wyon (1881–1966), but also including A. J. D. Farrer, John Holden, H. A. Kennedy, Harold Knight, Amandus W. Loos, John W. Rilling, and Bertram Lee Woolf.

1

Emil Brunner: The Origins of a Theological Mind, 1914–1924

Emil Brunner was born on 23 December 1889 in the Swiss city of Winterthur in the canton of Zurich.1 His father, Heinrich Emil Brunner (1859–1926), was the youngest of six children, born into a “totally unbelieving family” in Oberrieden, on the south shore of Lake Zurich. This was a period of considerable political and social tension in German-speaking Switzerland, with liberals pressing for the secularization of the region's educational system, and conservatives wishing to retain its religious orientation. To his family's dismay, Brunner's father decided to attend a Protestant teacher training school (Evangelisches Lehrerseminar) in Unterstrass, also in the canton of Zurich, which had been founded in 1869.

The Evangelisches Lehrerseminar at which Brunner's father studied during the period 1874–8 had gained a considerable reputation as a centre of pedagogical and spiritual excellence under Heinrich Bachofner (1828–97). After qualifying as a teacher, Brunner secured a position at a Protestant school in Winterthur. Bachofner's strongly Pietist spirituality had a profound influence on Brunner's father, which was further consolidated by his marriage in 1884 to Sophie Hanna Müller (1862–1934). Sophie's father was the pastor of the village of Dussnang, in the canton of Thurgau, noted for his emphasis upon biblically grounded theology and preaching. The couple had four children: Hanna Sophie (“Hanny”, 1886–1961), Maria Lydia (1887–1968), Emil (1889–1966), and Frieda Emma (1896–1964). In April 1893, the Brunner family left Winterthur to settle in the city of Zurich, where Brunner's father had been appointed as primary teacher at the Gabler School House in the suburb of Enge.

Theological Studies at Zurich

Brunner's childhood was deeply shaped by his parent's strong religious beliefs, and their growing involvement in the Religious Socialist movement. Like many in Zurich at this time, Brunner was influenced by the pastor and writer Hermann Kutter (1863–1931), who developed a vision for a religious socialism that was both politically engaged and religiously grounded. Although Kutter argued that the essentially secularist Social Democrats were far more alert to social issues than their Christian counterparts, he insisted that a strongly Christian foundation was essential for any viable programme of social reform. Brunner was instructed and confirmed by Kutter at Christmas 1905.2

Yet although Brunner would remain concerned with political and social questions for the remainder of his life, it became clear to him at an early stage that the questions that really interested and concerned him were theological in character. In October 1908, aged 18, Brunner began to study theology at the University of Zurich.3 His key concern was to find an “intellectually satisfying statement of his faith”.4 Initially, he appears to have been particularly attracted by Zurich's church historian, Walter Köhler (1870–1947), a specialist in the thought of the Reformation. Brunner's prize-winning early essay “The Religious Ideals of Erasmus of Rotterdam” (1910) clearly reflects Köhler's influence.

Yet even at this early stage, Brunner had become aware of the importance of the English-speaking world. He attended the eighth conference of the World's Student Christian Federation held at Oxford from 15 to 19 July 1909,5 at which he met leading figures in the international ecumenical movement – including the American Methodist layman John R. Mott (1865–1955). Brunner's Oxford visit reveals two of his most distinctive characteristics, which mark him off from many other Swiss theologians of his age – an ability to speak English, and a willingness to engage directly with the ideas and movements of the English-speaking world, crossing the barriers of language, nationality, and denominations.

The most significant early intellectual influence on Brunner came from Leonhard Ragaz (1868–1945), a close associate of Kutter, who was Professor of Systematic and Practical Theology at the University of Zurich.6 Critiquing capitalism for its commodification of humanity, Ragaz developed a theological foundation for a reaffirmation of the value of individuals in the sight of God.7 He reinforced Brunner's growing conviction that personal and social transformation was impossible without a foundation in the living reality of God. Like Brunner, Ragaz recognized the importance of English-speaking theology. During his 1907 visit to Boston, Ragaz became familiar with the writings of Walter Rauschenbusch (1861–1918), especially his Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907). Rauschenbusch's influence is evident in Ragaz's subsequent writings, particularly his sermons of 1909.8 In 1914, Brunner dedicated his first significant published writing, Das Symbolische in der religiösen Erkenntnis (“The Symbolic Element in Religious Knowledge”), to Ragaz.

So what does Das Symbolische tell us about Brunner's ideas at this time? Theologically, it positions Brunner neatly within the mainstream of Swiss liberal Protestantism in the period before the Great War. Brunner regarded Immanuel Kant and F. D. E. Schleiermacher as having inaugurated the modern discussion of central theological themes, particularly in shifting the emphasis from allegedly “objective” conceptions of religious knowledge to subjective religious experience.9 Religious knowledge is essentially experiential; “revelation” is essentially enlightenment.

The work echoes the anti-metaphysical approach to theology – especially Christology – characteristic of the liberal Protestantism of A. B. Ritschl and Adolf von Harnack.10 Jesus of Nazareth was to be regarded as a religious exemplar or prototype, embodying the ethical values of the kingdom of God.11 “Brunner regarded Jesus as a man possessing special religious knowledge, not a God-man who is identical with God as an object of religious knowledge.”12 There is an obvious and significant soteriological deficit in Brunner's understanding of Jesus of Nazareth at this point, partly reflecting any sense of ontological distinction between humanity and Jesus.13 Jesus may clarify our understanding of God; he does not fundamentally alter our relationship with God. It is interesting to note that Brunner's Christology seems to rest on his epistemological presuppositions, suggesting that his understanding of the role of Jesus of Nazareth was shaped by an essentially philosophical framework.14

There are aspects of Das Symbolische which merit further discussion, perhaps most notably the manner in which its ideas – especially the ethical role of Jesus of Nazareth – echo the views of Ragaz, and the manner in which Brunner draws on Henri Bergson to develop his notion of “intuition”.15 Yet for our purposes, the importance of the work lies in its illumination of Brunner's theological starting point. In his “pre-dialectical” phase,16 Brunner is clearly deeply embedded within the liberal Protestant consensus, even if his ideas are tinged with the hues of the prevailing forms of liberal Protestantism at Zurich, rather than at Berlin. Yet this initial statement of Brunner's theological perspectives reveals someone who is at home with the ideas of Schleiermacher, Ritschl, and Harnack.17 At this point, Brunner does not stand out from his cultural and theological background.

Pastoral Ministry and Contacts in England

Brunner – like his Swiss colleagues Karl Barth (1886–1968) and Eduard Thurneysen (1888–1974) – had little sympathy at this stage for the purely academic study of theology, or any notion of theology as an ecclesially disengaged activity. All three saw theology as linked to ministry, and above all to preaching. Brunner was studying theology in order to begin public ministry within the Swiss Reformed church. His initial pastoral responsibilities were in Leutwil, a small town in the canton of Aargau, some fifteen kilometres from the neighbouring village of Safenwil.

Brunner moved to Leutwil in September 1912 to deputize for pastor August Müller, who had become seriously ill. Following Müller's death in office on 3 October, Brunner was ordained on 27 October 1912 at the Fraumünster in Zurich, and served as interim pastor (Vikar) at Leutwil until April 1913, when he returned to Zurich to complete his academic studies and examinations. Although Karl Barth was pastor of the nearby village of Safenwil throughout Brunner's Leutwil period, there are no indications of any direct contact between them. On 31 July 1913, Brunner was examined on his thesis “Das Symbolische in der religiösen Erkenntnis” – published the following year under the same title – and graduated summa cum laude.

Brunner's sermons of this period clearly echo the themes of the religious socialism articulated by Ragaz. In a sermon of 12 January 1913, Brunner played down any thought of Christianity offering hope in the face of death; its primary role was to transform the situation of the living.

When [Jesus] speaks about the “Kingdom of God”, he is talking first of all about this side of things. He does not want to bring a trusting hope for those who are dying, but speaks about a great future for the living. To put it briefly, the “Kingdom of God” will come on this earth – not as a rapture [Entrückung] into a better world through the entry door of death, but as a transfiguration [Umgestaltung] of our earthly life.18

Brunner was succeeded at Leutwil by Eduard Thurneysen (1888–1974), who served as pastor in the community from 1913 to 1920.19 Brunner's close friendship with Thurneysen began around this time. A significant correspondence developed, indicating a growing restlessness with some of the conventional theological wisdom of their age, catalysed to no small extent by the outbreak of the Great War in the late summer of 1914. It was during his period as pastor of Leutwil that Thurneysen developed a relationship with Barth, which would prove to be so theologically significant.

By the summer of 1913, Brunner was fully equipped to begin professional ministry in the Swiss Reformed church. Yet he chose not to do this, believing that his vocation as a theologian and churchman – the two were closely interlinked in his mind – demanded that he become proficient in the English language, not least in order to sustain and develop the contacts that he had made at the Oxford conference of 1909. In an unusual move, without any real parallel amongst his Swiss theological contemporaries, Brunner spent the academic year 1913–14 teaching French and Latin at high schools in England.

Brunner's first such appointment was at Winchester House School in Great Yarmouth, a port in the East Anglian county of Norfolk. This beautiful Victorian building was set in extensive grounds on a cliff top on England's east coast, with impressive views of the sandy bays around. Yet Brunner's experience at Great Yarmouth was not a success in terms of its academic outcomes. Winchester House seemed more concerned about the reputation of its sports teams that its examination performances in either French or Latin.20 In December 1913, Brunner wrote to Thurneysen, admitting that his time in Great Yarmouth had been something of a “fiasco”.21 He resigned, and moved to London to consider his next move. Undeterred by his earlier unhappy experience, Brunner managed to find another teaching position – this time, as a teacher of French at West Leeds High School in Yorkshire. This proved much more satisfactory.

Brunner found his time in England to be politically stimulating, bringing him into contact with leading British socialists such as the future British prime minister Ramsay MacDonald (1866–1937) and the future chancellor of the exchequer Philip Snowden (1864–1937). At the more intellectual level, Brunner was “particularly impressed” by the “Guild Socialism” then being articulated by the leading young Fabian theorist George Douglas Howard Cole (1889–1959).22 He also became acquainted with the future archbishop of Canterbury, William Temple (1881–1944),23 whom he met through the “Brotherhood Movement”, a British form of Christian socialism which flourished in the years before the Great War.24

However, the outbreak of the Great War in August 1914 forced Brunner to return to Switzerland as quickly as possible. Having already undertaken military training in the infantry at Zurich in the late summer of 1909, he was placed on active service until early 1915. He was posted to the 69th Fusilier Battalion (Füsilierbataillon), which was stationed close to the French border.25

The Swiss Crisis of Identity, 1914–1919

It is impossible to make sense of the emerging theology of the three great Swiss Protestant theologians of the twentieth century – Brunner, Barth, and Thurneysen – without understanding the nature of the national crisis through which Switzerland passed during the years 1914–19. Switzerland had expanded its territory after the resolution of the chaos resulting from the Napoleonic wars by the Congress of Vienna (1815), adding the canton of Geneva; it also reaffirmed its commitment to political and military neutrality within the new European order then in the process of emerging.26 It had no desire to become entangled in future European wars.

This doctrine was reaffirmed with the outbreak of war between the European Great Powers in August 1914.27 Switzerland may have affirmed its neutrality; this did not, however, safeguard its territorial integrity. Pre-war strategic analysis had made it clear that the small nation was vulnerable to opportunistic territorial annexation by France, Germany, or Italy. Its neutrality had to be enforced through military mobilization.

Although Switzerland remained neutral during the Great War, it was profoundly affected by the conflict. In the east, the peoples of the Suisse Romande felt a natural affinity with France; the sympathies of western Switzerland lay firmly with Germany.28 The fault lines reflected deep convictions about cultural identity between France and Germany.29 Tensions soared. There was an open recognition of a massive gulf between the German- and French-speaking communities, which might easily have led to permanent fissure and national disintegration. At times, it seemed as if the nation would split, with the German-speaking cantons siding with Germany, and their French-speaking counterparts with France.

This tension expressed itself within the Swiss Christian socialist movement. Two of its leading lights – Hermann Kutter and Leonhard Ragaz – took very different positions on the “German question”. Kutter openly supported the German cause; Ragaz argued that Swiss Christians ought to oppose the war without taking sides, developing an anti-militarist theme that would recur in his later writings.30

The impact of the war on Swiss industry and commerce was devastating,31 paving the way for industrial unrest. Food rationing had to be introduced in 1917. The national debt spiralled out of control. A national strike was called in November 1918, raising serious fears of a Bolshevik-type revolution in Switzerland, and causing a crisis within Swiss socialism.32 Serious economic difficulties were exacerbated by political tensions. For Brunner, as for many others, the imperial German war policy called into question the basis and legitimacy of culturally assimilated forms of Protestantism.33 Karl Barth and Brunner alike regarded ethics as grounded in theology,34 and interpreted the ethical failure of the German churches in encouraging war through a Kriegstheologie (which often seemed to reflect pagan rather than Christian themes) as ultimately a theological failure,35 demanding a radical theological correction.36 So what could be done to recover from this theological crisis? How could theology recover its vision? This sense of unease is evident in the preaching of Barth, Brunner, and Thurnseysen during this period, reflecting anxiety about the present situation and uncertainty about what lay ahead.37

During the Great War, Brunner served in various temporary positions, including assisting Hermann Kutter at the Neumünster in Zurich during the summer of 1915. Finally, Brunner was given his own pastoral responsibility. He was installed as pastor of the mountain village of Obstalten in the canton of Glarus, in eastern Switzerland, on 13 February 1916. One of most significant developments for Brunner around this time was his engagement to Kutter's niece Margrit Lauterburg (1895–1979) in May 1917, followed by their church marriage in October of the same year at Bremgarten, a small town near Berne.38

Barth served as pastor in the village of Safenwil from 1911 to 1921, and was a close neighbour of Thurneysen. Although it is impossible to establish either the date or the location of Brunner's first meeting with Barth, circumstantial evidence suggests that this probably took place at Thurneysen's home in Leutwil in the middle of February 1916. Thurneysen and Barth had studied theology together at the University of Marburg during the period 1908–9, and had developed a close friendship.39 The two remained in close contact throughout the 1910s, and regularly met up. Brunner's first letter to Barth is dated 1 April 1916, praising a sermon of Barth's, yet registering hesitation over some of its theological gambits. It was a pattern of affirmation mingled with reservation that would continue over the coming years.

Brunner and Dialectical Theology: The Origins of an Ambivalent Relationship

It would not be until 1920 that Brunner began what could legitimately be termed a “dialectical” phase in his theological development.40 Before then, he is best seen as remaining within the pre-war theological liberal Protestant consensus, despite his growing misgivings about some of its assumptions, and his increasing willingness to explore alternatives – including the ideas beginning to be developed by Barth and Thurneysen.41 Although a cooling of the friendship between Brunner and Thurneysen in early 1916 is suggested by a somewhat belated invitation to Brunner to attend Thurneysen's wedding,42 it seems that by late 1918 Barth and Thurneysen had come to see Brunner as a useful dialogue partner in their theological discussions. He was someone who needed to be kept on side, even if there were questions about his commitment to their vision of “dialectical theology”.43 Setting the Barth–Brunner correspondence alongside the Barth–Thurneysen correspondence for the period 1916–20, it becomes clear that Barth and Thurneysen saw themselves as sharing common themes, which they increasingly considered Brunner to fail to grasp.

Yet despite this incomplete harmony the three young theologians agreed to set out what amounted to a common public theological programme at a series of lectures, given at Leutwil from 4 to 6 February 1917. Thurneysen intended these lectures for his congregation to be delivered by colleagues who were sympathetic to a “new way” of doing theology. This “Bible Week amongst the People”, hosted by Thurneysen, was addressed by Brunner, Barth, and Gottlob Wieser (1888–1973) – all younger theologians, representing an emerging school of thought (at present, without any agreed name).

On Sunday 4 February, Brunner delivered the opening lecture, on “Awakening the Bible”. Wieser's lecture, delivered the following day, dealt with the theme of “Hope in the Bible”. On 6 February, Barth spoke on “The New World in the Bible”. Barth's lecture, now widely seen as a manifesto for his reforming theological agenda, seems to have generated the most interest on the part of the audience.

In a letter of 17 January, Thurneysen had hinted that he would prefer Brunner's talk to be entitled “The Word of God in the Bible”.44 In the event, Brunner's address was somewhat critical of any such idea, prefer­ring to speak of the “Spirit of the Bible” rather than the “Word of God”. Echoing the pre-war approach of Ragaz, Brunner called on his audience to allow the Bible to inspire and empower them, leading to the transformation of society:

What we need now is the Spirit of the Bible [Bibelgeist], not the sayings of the Bible [Bibelsprüche]; God, not statements of faith; power, not doctrines. This living word and living power are asleep in the Bible. But we must try to wake them up, to draw them out . . . If the Spirit of the Bible awakes within us, there would be an earthquake, compared with which all revolutions are but a children's game. And the end result would be the kingdom of God on earth, the rule of righteousness, truth, and love.45

Brunner's lecture helps us locate him on a theological map at this stage in his development, not least in relation to his explicit distancing of himself from excessively cognitive approaches to doctrine or the interpretation of the Bible. Yet his approach was not what Thurneysen hoped for, either pedagogically or theologically.46 As he later remarked to Barth, not only had the audience found Brunner difficult to understand; his proposals stood at some distance from their own.

The truth of the matter is that Brunner did not see himself as part of any theological alliance or axis at this time. There never was any close relationship, personal or intellectual, with Barth. There was a friendship, certainly, reflected in Barth allowing Brunner to read his landmark Romans commentary in proof in November 1918. As a result, Brunner's review of the work was the first to be published, attracting considerable attention for that reason.47 Brunner rightly declared that Barth's approach opened the way for a “theology focused on the Word of God”.48 Yet it is not entirely clear whether, and to what extent, Brunner himself wished to be aligned with the specifics of Barth's approach. In reviewing Barth's Romans commentary, Brunner – much to Barth's irritation – presented himself as a neutral assessor of its approach, not as one who himself espoused and advocated such a position.

The simple truth is that at this stage Brunner was finding his own way, trying to reconstruct his vision of theology in the light of the trauma of the Great War, and the deep and fundamental questions about theological method that this had raised in his mind.49 Given that the cultural ideology of an earlier generation could not be sustained after the distress of the Great War, what was to replace it? How would this affect his reading of the Bible? Of the Reformed tradition? Of his theological mentors at Zurich? He welcomed the stimulus of others – such as the little volume of sermons by Barth and Thurneysen (1917)50 – while declining to identify himself with them.

Brunner's writings of 1918–19 indicate two main concerns with the approach of Barth and Thurneysen. First, although there are clear signs that Brunner was beginning to appreciate the problems associated with subjectivist theological approaches by the beginning of 1918, he had no time for a simple inversion of such an approach, focusing on the alleged objectivity of divine revelation. In a letter to Thurneysen of January 1918 thanking him for the gift of a copy of Suchet Gott, Brunner expressed concerns about its “almost dangerously one-sided” approach, which seemed to him to rupture any links between God and human morality.51 For Brunner, there was a “little spark” of divine truth in the world, “a seed of believing objectivity”. Hints of his later notion of the Anknüpfungspunkt are found here, in an emergent form.

Second, Brunner was puzzled by the elusive theological substance of slogans such as “let God be God”. Such an emphasis on the absolute priority of God seemed to him to be unhelpfully abstract, lacking content. Could such an approach be anything other than a criticaltool, countering what could now be recognized as an excessively culturally determined vision of theology? Its iconoclasm might help identify and eradicate false starts; but could it function as a positive and constructive foundation for a theological programme? Could it bear theological weight? Brunner indicated that he had experienced such problems with such theological slogans back in 1916, when trying to absorb the theological significance of Hermann Kutter's slogan Gott machen lassen (“letting God matter”).52

Brunner in America, 1919–1920

Although Brunner continued to socialize with Barth, Thurneysen, and Wieser, his own horizons were being extended following the end of the Great War, when international travel became possible once more. The ecumenical pioneer Adolf Keller (1872–1963), pastor of St Peter's, Zurich, recognized the importance of developing international connections between Switzerland and the United States as a means of encouraging theological reconstruction and ecclesial reconciliation. As a result of Keller's initiatives, in July 1919 Union Theological Seminary, New York, announced that a one-year fellowship to the value of $1,200 would be offered to an outstanding Swiss Protestant theologian. Leonhard Ragaz had no doubt that Brunner was the ideal candidate, not least on account of his fluency in English, and approached him. Would he accept the award if it was offered to him?

Union Theological Seminary was then one of the most prestigious Protestant institutes of theological education in the United States, with an international reputation. Although it had been founded as a Presbyterian seminary in 1836, a series of controversies in the late nineteenth century led to the school divesting itself of its denominational links, and becom­ing a non-denominational seminary.53 Its move to Morningside Heights in 1908, next to Columbia University, gave it a new academic status. By 1921 many regarded Union as one of the premier institutions of theological education in the United States – a “theological university”, as some of its distinguished faculty put it.

Brunner realized that exposure to American theology and church life would enhance his own intellectual development.54 Yet despite the attractiveness of the possibility, he was hesitant. It would mean being absent from Switzerland for eight months. How would his congregation cope without him? His first son, Hans Heinrich, was only a year old, and his wife Margrit was expecting their second child around Christmas 1919. And in any case, what would he gain from studying at an American seminary? Yet all these objections were overcome. Margrit insisted he should go to America. An extraordinary meeting of the Obstalten congregation granted him leave of absence, and arranged for his pastoral responsibilities to be covered initially by Ernst Stähelin of Basle, and then by Max Vatter of Lucerne.

Brunner accepted the invitation. He sailed from Calais, and disembarked in New York on 14 September 1919. He later recalled that this visit to New York established important contacts that he would maintain for the remainder of his life.55 Yet his experience of American culture and church life seem also to have brought home to him that the European experience could not be absolutized as a theological norm. America offered Brunner a critical perspective from which he could see the European situation. There was no “crisis” in America, paralleling that which had overwhelmed Europe in the immediate aftermath of the Great War.

By the early 1920s, American philosophers and theologians had come to take an optimistic attitude towards industrial progress, scientific advancement, the efficiency of large-scale organizations, and the increased benefits of technology. There was no sense of an economic or political “crisis” arising from the Great War. The conflict had had surprisingly little impact on American culture and thought in comparison with western Europe.56 There were religious tensions within the American context; yet these were quite distinct from their counterparts in Germany and Switzerland, and would express themselves in the emergence of “Fundamentalism” in the 1920s. If there was a cultural crisis in America, this did not arise directly from the Great War, but from the Wall Street crash of October 1929.

Brunner, Barth, and Thurneysen: Continuing Debate

Brunner returned to Obstalten in the summer of 1920, and resumed his pastoral ministry on 6 June. On 29 August, Barth and Thurneysen, who were vacationing at the Bergli, paid Brunner a visit at Obstalten, and arrived in time to hear him preach at the morning service. They pronounced themselves unimpressed by his sermon, declaring his preaching to be “cheap, psychological, boring, and churchy”.57 Brunner was taken aback by both the substance and tone of his visitors' comments. Although he was careful to frame his subsequent extended letter of response in terms of grateful appreciation of doubtless merited and helpful criticism,58 Brunner seems to have been wounded rather than enriched by their reactions.

By late 1920, Brunner seems to have come to the conclusion that Barth's approach to theology was becoming increasingly radical, accentuating rather than alleviating his misgivings concerning what he regarded as its excessively negative and critical tone. On this return from America, Thurneysen drew Brunner's attention to two important lectures given by Barth during Brunner's absence, in which he had begun to speak of God as “wholly other”.59

These theological trends were given definitive formulation in the second edition of Barth's Romans commentary (1922). In this radical revision of his 1919 work, Barth argued for an “infinite qualitative distinction” between time and eternity, and God and humanity. This notion of “distance” is expressed both ontologically and epistemologically: God is in heaven, and humanity on earth; God can only be known through a sovereign and free act of self-disclosure.60

Brunner was profoundly uneasy about these developments, particularly when he got round to reading Barth's review of Franz Overbeck. Although scholars sympathetic to Barth tend to present Brunner's response to Barth at this time as muddled and compromised, lacking the critical brilliance and insight they hold to be characteristic of Barth, there is another way of understanding things. Brunner believed that the emerging “dialectical theology” was iconoclastic, not constructive, and that it failed to recognize the moral and theological complexity of culture and religion. How could such a theology be lived out in the world? Surely theology could be both critical and constructive? Surely the Christian gospel had something positive to say, rather than offering aggressive intellectual and cultural negations?

Brunner is often accused at this point of wanting to have it both ways – to say both “Yes” and “No”. Yet his position is completely consistent and principled. For Brunner, theology is “critical” in that it offers a basis for judging all things, affirming some and rejecting others. By its very nature, it must say “Yes” in some cases, and “No” in others. This is not about inconsistency, nor does it betray a muddled or subjective eclecticism. Brunner's approach is similar to the strategy of “critical appropriation” advocated by writers such as Augustine of Hippo, as the early church wrestled with its relationship with Roman imperial culture. Brunner's strategy of critical appropriation came to be placed on an increasingly rigorous conceptual foundation in the mid-1930s – as, for example, in the “law of the closeness of relation” (Gesetz der Beziehungsnähe), which we will consider later (pp. 137–40).

In his critical letter of 2 September 1920 to Barth and Thurneysen, Brunner uses the analogy of a watchdog (Hofhund) to make the point that his own approach, based on Kant's critical philosophy, allows him to discriminate between friend and foe; in marked contrast, the “dialectical” approach sees everything as a threat.

For Kant, the “No” is critical, i.e., like a watchdog which barks at everyone except its owners, who belong in the house. The dialectical watchdog barks at everyone as a matter of principle. But Kant gets results.61

More fundamentally, Brunner queried whether the notion of God as the “totally other” compromised the crucial theological insights of the biblical theme “the Word became Flesh”.62

An interesting and important divergence can be seen at this point between Barth and Brunner over the manner in which the Danish existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard is to be interpreted and theologically appropriated. At this point, Barth tended to emphasize the critical side of Kierkegaard's thought, as in the famous preface to the second edition of his Romans commentary (1922):

If I have any “system”, it is restricted to bearing in mind, as much as possible, what Kierkegaard called the “infinite qualitative distinction” between time and eternity, in its negative and positive aspects. “God is in heaven, and you are on earth.” For me, the relation of this God and this person, the relation of this person and this God, is, in a nutshell, the theme of the Bible and the totality of philosophy.63

Brunner, in contrast, highlighted Kierkegaard's emphasis on the “subjective” aspects of truth, seeing this as an important corrective to purely objective understandings of the nature of theology.64 Brunner's “dialogical” approach to theology, which attempted to provide a theological defence and contextualization for affirming both objectivity and subjectivity, can be seen as being partly rooted in his reading of Kierkegaard.65

Yet despite these clear points of divergence, both in theological substance and their reading of Kierkegaard, Brunner continued to engage in dialogue with Barth and his circle – including Friedrich Gogarten (1887–1967) – even though he was conscious of being seen, at least in some respects, as an outsider. His relationship with Thurneysen became formal and cool; at one point, the two did not correspond for over four months.66 Yet Barth seems to have respected Brunner enough to allow him to see drafts of the revised version of his Romans commentary as early as May 1921,67 which clearly stimulated Brunner in his attempt to forge his own approach. Barth, however, does not appear to have found Brunner stimulating; indeed, he eventually came to the view that he was simply wasting time in engaging him. With the benefit of hindsight, Barth later realized that he ought probably to have engaged more thoroughly and critically with Gogarten at this formative stage in his development.68

The Quest for Recognition: Erlebnis, Erkenntnis und Glaube (1921–2)

The published version of Brunner's Erlebnis, Erkenntnis und Glaube (“Experience, Knowledge and Faith”) was completed in September 1921. An earlier version of this work, with the same title, was submitted to the Zurich Cantonal Directorate of Higher Education on 3 February 1921 as the basis of Brunner's second attempt at Habilitation – being allowed to teach or supervise research for the University of Zurich Faculty of Theology. This normally required the submission of a Habilitationsschrift – an independently produced piece of research, which would be defended before a panel of academic judges. The Habilitation, which has no direct equivalent in the British or North American university systems, can be thought of as a second academic dissertation, establishing a scholar's professional credentials for university teaching and research. Brunner's hopes of a future academic career depended on this work being well received.

Brunner's first (and unsuccessful) attempt to secure Habilitation took place in July 1915. Encouraged by Leonhard Ragaz, Brunner reworked his Symbolische in der religiösen Erkenntnis to serve as a Habilitationsschrift on the theme of “The Significance of Henri Bergson for the Philosophy of Religion”.69 Brunner seems to have assumed that his application to the Zurich Faculty of Theology provenia legendi (a Latin phrase probably best rendered as “for permission to lecture”) would be unproblematic. Yet Ragaz soon discovered that his colleagues at Zurich regarded any such move on Brunner's part as premature. There was clear resistance to allowing Brunner to teach on behalf of the Faculty. Some of Ragaz's colleagues had concerns about what they regarded as a superficial approach to theological issues. On 28 September 1915, Ragaz wrote a somewhat awkward letter to his protégé, suggesting that the time might not be quite right for Brunner to proceed with his case. Might it not benefit from further reflection and preparation?

Having waited more than five years, Brunner believed it was time to try again. Once more, Ragaz attempted to smooth the way for his protégé – this time, with greater (but not total) success. On 12 May 1921 Brunner wrote to Barth to inform him that his Habilitationsschrift had been accepted. “Yesterday I finally had notification that the Faculty at Zurich have accepted my Habilitation, although in the face of strong opposition from a minority.”70

Yet the Habilitationsschrift was a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for being allowed to lecture or supervise students at Zurich. The Faculty of Theology had to be satisfied on other grounds. And there was a problem. Brunner had made himself a controversial figure at Zurich, partly on account of an article he had published in 1920, calling into question the methods of academic theology and its relevance for clergy.

Although Brunner had originally suggested the somewhat pedestrian title “The Theological Preparation of Clergy and the Question of the Reform of the Theological Curriculum” for this three-page article, the editor of the journal to which he submitted it changed it to the somewhat more provocative “The Poverty of Theology”.71 In this paper, Brunner made some fundamental criticisms of academic theology in relation to the needs of pastors, focusing especially on epistemological questions, such as the dangers of a false objectification of knowledge. Yet it seems to have been the title as much as the substance of the article that rankled some at Zurich – especially the New Testament scholar Paul Wilhelm Schmiedel (1851–1935) and the church historian Walther Köhler (1870–1946), both of whom were widely regarded as representing the classic liberal theology that had hitherto dominated Zurich's faculty of theology.72

Schmiedel and Köhler produced a highly critical minority report, alleging Brunner's work to be full of “misjudgements”, to lack familiarity with recent developments in the philosophy of method, and to be disproportionately biased towards American scholarship.73 Yet five of the seven faculty members appointed to reach a decision on the matter supported Brunner, even if they did so with qualifications, including concerns about the clarity of his writing. In the end, the decision was taken: Brunner would be granted venia legendi at the Zurich Faculty of Theology with effect from the academic year 1921–2.

We must linger over that criticism that Brunner made too much use of American scholarship in his Habilitationsschrift. The real issue seems to have concerned Brunner's interest in the “psychology of religion”, a discipline which is widely conceded to have its origins in the United States in the final decades of the nineteenth century.74 What seems to have irritated some of the Faculty of Theology at Zurich was that Brunner's criticisms of Schleiermacher were not primarily based on a detailed analysis of German-language theology and philosophy but on some empirical findings, derived from American psychology of religion, which called into question the reliability of Schleiermacher's approach. The problem was not that Schleiermacher was being criticized, but that he was being criticized on the basis of work that was, in the first place, American, and in the second, empirical.

Given the importance of this point, we must give further thought to Brunner's encounter with the psychology of religion during his time at Union Theological Seminary in the academic year 1919–20.

Brunner and American Psychology of Religion

It is clear that Brunner conceived at least some of the themes of Erlebnis, Erkenntnis und Glaube during his time at Union Theological Seminary. Brunner's critique of Schleiermacher's “psychologism” is partly based on the views of American psychologists of religion,75 especially George Albert Coe (1862–1951), whom Brunner encountered at Union Theological Seminary.76 In a letter of 8 October 1919, Brunner declared that the psychology of religion was the “most original” contribution that America had to offer modern theology.77 He actively sought to pursue further studies under Coe's direction.

In early February 1920, he wrote to his wife telling her that, under Coe's direction, he had now acquired the resources he needed to begin his project.78 It was not so much that Brunner believed that Coe could help him develop psychological resources to criticize the (somewhat tenuous) empirical foundations of Schleiermacher's notion of “feeling”;79 it was more that the sources that Coe encouraged him to read and study – such as William James (1842–1910) – seemed to Brunner to indicate the inevitable outcome of any psychological approach to religion: the elimination of distinctively Christian ideas about “God” in favour of loose talk about a generic notion of “the divine”.

By this time, William James had a commanding reputation in Europe.80 His works had been translated into German, and discussed at the Inter­national Congress of Philosophy at Heidelberg in September 1908.81 While European scholarly interest focused mainly on James's pragmatic conception of truth, at least some of the wider implications of his psychological approach appear to have been appreciated.

Yet many would argue that G. Stanley Hall (1844–1924) did far more to establish the professional academic credentials of the discipline in the United States.82 Hall's student James H. Leuba (1867–1946) published numerous articles and four books on the psychology of religion, and used his editorship of the Psychological Bulletin to ensure that articles concerning this field were published regularly. By the end of the Great War the psychology of religion was well established in American academic life, and was having a growing influence in mainline denominational seminaries. By the end of the 1920s, the movement was in decline, partly due to the growing influence of behaviorism.83 Brunner studied in America when the movement was at its peak.

In the 1920s, Union Theological Seminary represented something of a theological laboratory, fusing together some traditional – and also some highly redacted – themes of Protestant theology with the pragmatism of William James and John Dewey. Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–45), who spent the academic year 1930–1 as a Sloan Fellow at Union, was puzzled, and even a little disturbed, by the dominance of pragmatic conceptions of truth, and their somewhat uncritical theological appropriation in the seminary.

The destruction of philosophy as the question of truth, and its recasting as a positive individual discipline with practical goals – as most radically carried through by Dewey – alters the heart of the concept of scholarship, and truth as the absolute norm of all thinking is restricted by what proves to be “useful in the long run.” Thinking is essentially teleological, aimed at serving life.84