#1 Karl Barth

There’s no doubt that Princeton seminarians love Karl Barth. I’m not sure at what point he replaced John Calvin as the most respected theological figure at the seminary, but without question he did. It’s hard not to hear his name peppered throughout casual conversations at the lunch tables and interspersed in precept discourse, when seemingly appropriate. If you’re lucky you might even see a few aspiring Ph.D. students wearing Barth t-shirts, in hopes that the professors will assume because they own “Barth gear,” that they’ve digested his work.

Juniors often start their theological education mispronouncing his surname with a soft “thhh,” that is, until they quickly learn that it’s more akin to Bart Simpson’s Christian name. Middlers (2nd year Princeton seminarians) are usually the first to jump at the opportunity to correct these misguided neophytes in hopes of being perceived as budding Barth scholars themselves.The truth is, however, most seminarians don’t really know much about Barth. In reality, Princeton seminarians like the idea of Barth more than the actual figure. Most seminarians couldn’t tell you much about him, other than he wrote the Church Dogmatics. Even the doctoral students who claim to know Barth are usually regurgitating second-hand McCormack Barth.Although, by the time Princeton seminarians are graduating, they’ve heard enough about Barth to sufficiently fake their knowledge of Barthian concepts. Two of the most popular take-aways are: “Barth corrected Calvin’s doctrine of predestination” and “Barth forms the basis for the missional conversation,” (the latter also being something they like to pretend to know). For those seminarians who can’t quite grasp even these basic assertions, usually say they don’t like Barth.If you don’t know much about Karl Barth, but you find yourself talking with a Princeton seminarian who is trying to sound intelligent, just respond to whatever he says with: “but surely you know what Barth says about that in the Church Dogmatics?” (Then add a haughty little chuckle). Even though you won’t know what you’re talking about, chances are he won’t either and then he’ll think you know more about Barth than he does. You see, Princeton seminarians like to talk to people who know less about Barth than they do. (Which is why at Princeton seminary parties, everyone wants to talk to little kids.) Moreover, this should squelch the imposing conversation rather quickly and you can find someone more interesting to converse with.