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Part 1
Mutually enriching dialogue
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1 Doing theology in dialogue with psychology
Fraser Watts
My concern in this paper will be with the dialogue between theology and psychology, something that I have explored previously in various places (Watts, 2002; 2007a; 2010; 2017; Watts, Nye and Savage, 2002, part 5). The dialogue between theology and psychology is, of course, different from both the practical application of psychology to pastoral care and the work of the church, and also different from the psychological study of religion. The dialogue between theology and psychology can be seen as a strand within the overall dialogue between theology and science. However, I will suggest that it has features that differentiate it from the dialogue of theology with the natural sciences.
Two-way dialogue between theology and psychology
The dialogue between theology and science is notoriously one-sided. Theology is much more interested in science than science is in theology. (I am referring to science as such, not individual scientists.) I suggest that a two-way dialogue between theology and psychology is possible, even if it is not a fully mutual relationship. Psychology can learn important things from theology on topics of mutual interest.
Sometimes theology contributes a critical perspective on psychology, especially where psychology is tempted by strong reductionist (ânothing butâ) positions. Many theologians take a broader view of human nature. Christians, amongst others, want to argue, in response, that there is more to human nature than that. For example, neuropsychology is currently one of the most fruitful areas of psychology, and theology has no reason to be concerned about that. However, if it goes so far as to claim, with Francis Crick, that people are ânothing but a bundle of neuronesâ, Christians will want to object (Watts, 2002, ch. 3). Similarly, evolutionary psychology is a current area of interest. That is well and good, but if it goes so far as to claim that human beings are nothing but survival machines for their genes, Christians will want to object (Watts, 2002, ch. 2). To be fair, most psychologists are not strong reductionists.
There are also topics in psychology to which theology can make a constructive contribution. That is most likely to occur with topics that are a focus of interest for both disciplines. Forgiveness is clearly a central topic in Christian theology, but recently, there has been a significant development of psychological theory, research and practice concerned with forgiveness, so that forgiveness is now a topic that has migrated across from theology to psychology. That raises interesting issues about the different emphases of theological and psychological approaches to forgiveness. Some aspects of what theology has to say about forgiveness are more relevant to psychology than others, and I will focus largely on theological perspective on human forgiveness (Watts and Gulliford, 2004, ch. 4).
I suggest that theology has a better grasp of the fact that forgiveness is often costly. Psychology may sometimes be guilty of implying that it is more straight-forward than it really is, but there is no reason why that tendency should not be corrected. Second, psychology tends to imply that forgiveness is a human initiative, whereas theology has a broader sense that forgiveness is something that is received and passed on. It can make a great difference to how forgiveness proceeds psychologically to regard this as a gift rather than a human initiative. Third, psychology tends to focus on a particular act of forgiveness that needs to be undertaken at a particular time with a particular person. Theology, in contrast, tends to see forgiveness as a virtue that needs long-term cultivation, and which will then manifest itself in a variety of contexts. Finally, the psychological approach to forgiveness tends to be pragmatic, in that it proposes that people should be engaged in forgiveness because it will make them feel better. Theology does not deny that, but also has a sense of the moral imperative to forgive; it is an open question whether the practical benefits of forgiveness can be fully delivered if people approach it in a purely pragmatic spirit.
I do not suggest that psychology is necessarily limited in any of these ways; on the contrary I suggest that the psychology of forgiveness could be enriched by greater attention to the approach of theology. I have emphasised what psychology can learn from theology, because it would be very hard to find any comparable example of what natural science could learn from theology.
Yet here are also places where psychology can make a contribution to theology. For example, psychology has a role in the interpretation of scripture. In recent years, there has been much interest in the contribution of the social sciences to the interpretation of scripture, and there is a substantial literature on that subject. More recently, there has been a development of psychological interpretation of scripture. For example the book I edited on Jesus and psychology considers what contribution psychology can make to understanding the context and mind-set of Jesus himself, and how psychology can elucidate the psychological significance of Jesusâ teaching (Watts, 2007b). It also asks what psychology can contribute to the understanding of how different people read the gospels: for example how peopleâs psychological development or personality may influence their reading.
Perspectives on human nature
The dialogue between theology and natural science is almost entirely concerned with creation and providence. In contrast, the human sciences like psychology have a particularly important intersection with theological anthropology. It has to be admitted that theological anthropology is not currently the most vigorous area of theology. There is simply less work going on in theological anthropology than, say, Trinitarian theology. Also, there is a widespread feeling that theological anthropology has got into a rut and that fresh approaches are needed to revive it. To make it more explicitly inter-disciplinary seems a good way forward, and the dialogue between theological anthropology and psychology can make an important contribution to that.
There are general models about human nature (a kind of metaphysics of the human person) in both theological anthropology and theoretical psychology, issues such as unity/multiplicity of the self, body/mind relations or freedom and determinism. Philosophical anthropology provides mediation between theology and psychology. It can look in one direction to theological anthropology, and in the other direction to theoretical psychology. This way of relating theology and psychology is quite tight and focussed. At least in the first place, it brackets out other areas of doctrine apart from theological anthropology and brackets out empirical psychology, focussing on the metaphysics of the human person with which empirical psychology is intertwined.
A good example of such work is that of Leon Turner (2008). At risk of simplifying his research, theology and psychology have contrasting approaches to how to reconcile the fact that people are in some ways integrated, and in other ways complex, diverse, even fragmented. Theology consistently emphasises the natural unity of the person, believing fragmentation to be evidence of stress (or sin), and therefore pathology. Modern psychologists, by contrast, tend to be more comfortable with fragmentation and complexity, believing people adapt in different ways to the multiple contexts in which they have to operate. Personality integration is often seen more as an individual achievement than a personâs natural state.
There is a similar set of issues about how to hold together the fact that humans are individual, social and physical beings, and the different ways in which theology and psychology conceptualise how that is done. Both theology and psychology in their different ways need to hold together that people are both corporeal and relational. It is one of the interesting features of psychology that it is both a social and a biological science, though it struggles to hold that together. Psychology is currently tended to over-emphasise the biological, while theology is currently tending to over-emphasise the relational. Both, I submit, need to maintain a balance on this, and both need to give up notions of what is primary or foundational.
Lastly, in this section on human nature, I want to draw attention to something odd about the claims about human beings made in theological anthropology often seem to be highly determined by other areas of doctrine. Claims about human nature in theological anthropology tend to be too much driven by other areas of doctrine such as soteriology and ecclesiology, and not brought into relation with empirical psychology. Theological anthropology should look both ways: to other areas of doctrine and to empirical psychology.
For example, if someone has a theology of the cross that focusses on removing guilt, then it is tempting for them to assume that human beings feel guilty and to make that a central claim in their theological anthropology. If they believe on the theological grounds in the church as a salvific community, it is tempting for them to make rather idealised claims about what church does for people. If they believe religion provides people with meaning, it is tempting to claim that people are afflicted by a sense of meaninglessness.
The real problem is that the claims are often made in theological anthropology without any attempt to check empirically whether there is any justification for those claims. All too often people simply make claims about human nature that fit their overall theological position. Moreover, there is a tendency to make exaggerated claims, whether that is denigration or idealisation of human nature and community. The tendency is to run down natural humanity and to exalt the salvific state. There is also too much generalisation about human nature and neglect of differences between people. If theological anthropology was more inter-disciplinary and conducted in dialogue with an empirical discipline like psychology, the result would be much more satisfactory.
This raises issues about the nature of the claims that theology makes about human beings. They often appear to be empirical, but may not actually be so. Suggesting that those claims should be checked out empirically may elicit from the theologian the response âOh no, I didnât mean it like thatâ, but then it is reasonable to press the question of what exactly the theologian did mean by those claims. I suspect that theological anthropology has got into a bad habit of making pseudo-empirical claims, and there is a need for greater conceptual clarity about what is going on.
Perspectives on religion
The psychological study of religion gives rise to an interesting reflexivity in its dialogue with theology. If we make the distinction between theology (the rational reflection of the faith traditions) and religious studies (the study of religion from the standpoint of disciplines such as history, sociology and psychology), psychology is involved with both. Psychology has a dialogue with theology; but it also studies religion. Religious practices are particularly likely to attract theological interpretation, which raises interesting issues about the relationship between the perspectives of theology and psychology on religion itself.
For example, can conversion be both the work of the Holy Spirit and a search for personal identity? Can religious experience be both an experience of God and a social construction or the result of a neural aberration? It is widely assumed that the two perspectives are incompatible and that a choice has to be made between them. However, I submit that there is no justification for that assumption. There is no theological reason to assume that God does not work through psychosocial processes. Equally, there is no reason for the human sciences to claim that they represent the sole explanation of religious phenomena. I would want to take here the âcomplementary perspectivesâ approach that I have advocated with theology and science generally (Watts, 1998).
In theology and science there has been much discussion about how to co-ordinate assumptions about divine action with a scientific world-view. However, that dialogue has been very limited. It has made no distinction between Godâs action in relation to people and to the rest of the natural world. It has largely ignored the human sciences such as psychology, and taken no account of the role of religious activity such as prayer in divine action. There is an urgent need to raise the level of discussion to address these deficiencies.
An interesting phenomenon from this point of view is spiritual healing (Watts, 2011). If we grant, at least for the sake of discussion, that spiritual healing can be efficacious, the question arises of how such healing comes about. I would argue that psychology and theology can both contribute complementary answers to that question. Psychology, for example, can examine the dynamics of the relationship between the healer and the healee, and look at physiological processes that may be involved such as those studied by psychoneuroimmunology (PNI). None of that excludes a religious perspective or makes it inappropriate to propose that there is something genuinely âspiritualâ about spiritual healing. However, there are various distinct ways in which healing can be deemed to be spiritual. For example, it can be healing to which spiritual practices contribute, healing that involves the spiritual aspect of the personâs nature or healing that draws on transcendent spiritual resources.
There are also issues that arise about the psychological perspective on religious belief and doctrine. There has been a growing recognition that it is a mistake to take Christian doctrine entirely propositionally. There are alternative ways of approaching doctrine in terms of its functional significance. George Lindbeck (1984) provided one of the classic expositions of that view. I donât want to take doctrine entirely propositionally, but neither do I want to abandon the propositional aspect of doctrine completely; I rather want to hold together propositional and non-propositional understandings of doctrine in balance.
Harry Williams, former Dean of Trinity College in Cambridge, and one of the pioneers of the interface between theology and psychology, put it like this:
In my view, strict academic scholarship has already given to theological thinking all that for the time being it has to give⊠Our present task is of a different kindâŠ.We must discover and try to tell how Godâs redemption of us has made itself known to the most secret places of our being.
The dialogue between theology and psychology can help with that important task of examining the human impact/significance of different aspects of Christian doctrine.
Paul Pruyserâs (1991) work on the psychological significance of different theories of the atonement and how they map onto different psychological types is an example of this way of relating psychology and doctrine. It seems likely to be the case that what kind of theology people are drawn to may reflect their personal issues and biases. Guilty people tend to see God in judgemental terms, but that is perhaps not the theology that will be most helpful to them. Guilty people need to understand that God is forgiving; complacent people need to understand the judgement of God. The general issue that arises here is that what people most need to understand theologically is actually what they are least drawn to. That poses a real challenge for a religious community. At the very least psychology can set out the nature of the problem and elucidate how and why it arises.
Methodological and philosophical issues
Finally I turn to methodological and philosophical issues. The methodology of the human sciences is closer to that of theology than to that of the natural sciences, giving rise to a richer and more fruitful interface with theology.
It is often claimed that there are different methodologies in the natural and human sciences. It has long been claimed that the distinctive methodology of the human sciences is that they recognise that human beings are agents and take a first-person approach rather than using the objectifying third-person approach of the natural sciences; they look for reasons, not for causes (HarrĂ© and Secord, 1972). It is probably correct that the human sciences are sometimes concerned with the reasons that human beings, as agents, have for their actions. However, the human sciences are also concerned with causes, and can be as âobjectifyingâ about that as the natural sciences. Psychology uses both methodologies; it is a methodological hybrid.
Methodologically, theology is also a hybrid. In its study of scriptural texts, in church history or in the psychology of religion, it uses an objectifying methodology similar to that of the natural sciences. However, in theological thinking, in which the created order is interpreted in terms of the purposes of God, it becomes more like a human science and understands things in terms of an agent, albeit a supreme and unique agent.
One of the potential disjunctions that can occur when relating theology to natural science is that theology uses agency concepts, whereas natural science does not. For example, the natural sciences may use objectifying concepts such as law and probability, whereas theological thinking would be more comfortable with agency concepts such as purpose and freedom (Watts, 2008). There is less risk of such a clash of perspectives when theology is in conversation with the human sciences. Rather, the hybrid methodology of the human sciences is one with which it is already familiar.
There are also issues about objectivity and subjectivity to the tackled here. One of the enduring issues with which theology has had to grapple is the relationship between the objective and the subjective, and the dialogue between theology and psychology nearly always raises issues about this. The initial suspicion is often that if theology gets into dialogue with psychology, it will lead to the subjectivisation of doctrine. I will argue that that is not necessarily the case.
It is helpful to put this general issue in context (Bowker, 1988). The nineteenth century saw a growing distinction between two uses of language: literal and symbolic. Literal uses of language were associated with objective truth, whereas symbolic uses of language were associated with subjective experience. In addition, there was a sea-change in the relationship between science and religion.
Religion got caught up in this bifurcation and found itself largely cast on the symbolic side, along with art and poetry. Much subsequent theology has been a protest against that assignment and an attempt to re-assert the objectivity of Christian belief against programmes of demythologisation and subjectivisation. Forced to choose between these alternatives, I would certainly want to defend the objectivity of Christian belief, or at least to say that there is more to it than subjective experience. However, I would really prefer not to start from that distinction at all. There are many good reasons for refusing to accept the distinction between literal and symbolic uses of language, and between objectivism and subjectivism.
My own path to realising the importance of overcoming this distinction was much helped by Owen Barfield. In a beautiful paper on âLanguage and Discoveryâ (1977) he says that the objectivity claimed for s...
