[W]ith theopanism the world is not a genuine other of the divine but in reality nothing but an emanation of the divine (a genitivus subjectivus!) or a moment in the self-development or self-interpretation of the divine—as in the case, mutatis mutandis, with Neo-Platonism, Hegelianism, and, in Przywara's view, the dialectical theology of the 1920s, inasmuch as the posited dialectic between God and world (faith and reason, grace and nature) ultimately and ironically collapses into the Lutheran-Reformed doctrine of God's exclusive agency or sole-causality (Alleinwirksamkeit). In short, as Przywara sees it, it is a radical theology of difference that ends in a fateful theology of identity. Over against the Lutheran-Reformed doctrine of Allwirksamkeit, i.e., the doctrine that God nevertheless—in and through the reality of created freedom—works all in all. To be sure, theopanism is often cloaked in a language of hyper-transcendence, as a part of a pious and well-intentioned attempt precisely not to confuse God with the world, but rather to give God the glory. At the end of the day, however, as Przywara sees it, Barth's dialectic (lacking an analogy of being) ironically collapses into an unwitting form of identity—the very thing he wishes to avoid—in that faith is a work of God alone and the believing creature is simply a site of divine self-interpretation.It's nice that Betz, speaking for Przywara, includes all this stuff about irony and cloaked language, because we should talk about these things.
In what was probably a simple editor's oversight, Betz/Przywara failed to mention the irony inherent in a theology that minimizes the fall and the destructive nature of sin, exalts human ability so that special revelation describing the utter worthlessness of pre-justification righteous acts (Is. 64:6) and the state of moral inability that we are all in (Eph. 2:1-10) is dismissed, and refuses to inquire what the difference is between those who believe and those who do not (i.e., why, if the Creator is in-and-beyond creation, some creatures accept Christ as their savior and some creatures do not) . . . and yet wants to avoid charges of Pelagianism (pp. 72-72).
What's that? You say that you've heard that all our righteousness is as filthy rags and that we are dead in trespasses and sins? You've heard that no one is born again by his own will (John 1:12-13)? You've heard that no one comes to Christ unless the Father draws him (John 6:44)? Balderdash! You're plenty capable, so give it your best shot!
To be sure, anti-Reformation theology is often cloaked in a language of hyper-immanence (God "in" creation [p. 72]), as part of a pious and well-intentioned attempt precisely not to confuse God with the world, but rather to account for the legitimacy of (fallen) human responsibility. At the end of the day, however, anti-Reformation theology ironically collapses into an unwitting form of identity—the very thing it wishes to avoid—in that God essentially becomes subject to creation as His hands are tied by human decision and as justification becomes a team effort.