R.Ruard Ganzevoort
In: B. Miller-McLemore (ed.) The Wiley-Blackwell Companion to Practical
Theology. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 214-223.
Although in some sense narrative approaches in practical theology have been developed only recently, one could claim that there is a long and
intrinsic history of their relationship. Religious practices that form the core material for theological reflection in practical theology are often
directly related to narratives. In one way or another human stories are connected with stories of and about God. Liturgy and rituals embody and
re-enact narratives from the spiritual tradition, allowing contemporary congregants to join in with their own life stories. Pastoral counseling and
spiritual care focus on those individual stories as they connect with traditions. Religious education shares the stories of a tradition to help new
generations build a repertoire of potentially meaningful narratives. And even when practical theologians focus on popular cultural, they look for
the stories of meaning in and beneath the cultural practices. Sometimes of course the connections are far from harmonious. Critical contributions
from subaltern voices challenge the narrative hegemony of dominant groups and their interpretation of the religious tradition by offering the
stories of personal experiences of women (Neuger 2001), people of different colors (Andrews 2002), or gay and lesbian believers (Kundtz and
Schlager 2007). In a sense, theological reflection on religious practices has therefore always been reflection on the convergences, confluences, and
conflicts between the myriads of stories.
As this chapter shows, there are at least three dimensions in narrative approaches. The first uses narrative forms in practical ministry and
religious communication (like preaching and pastoral care). The second involves empirical analysis and deconstruction of religious subjectivity
that is inherent to narrative. The third empowers marginalized voices by creating an audience for their stories. These three dimensions blend
together and make it impossible to render a simple description of narrative approaches. To sort through the complexity, this chapter will
first describe the narrative turn, showing philosopher Paul Ricoeur’s influence and tracing narrative developments both outside and within
practical theology. Then I address key issues in narrative research, offer a formal model for using narrative analysis, and conclude with analysis of
strengths and critiques.
The Narrative Turn
Of course, awareness of the narrative dimension of tradition and practice is not new but can indeed be found throughout the ages, for example, in
the Breviloquium of thirteenth-century theologian Bonaventure: Because the mind is more moved by examples than by argumentation, by
promises more than by reasoning, by piety more than by definitions: therefore the Scriptures should not apply the defining, analyzing and
concluding form, to prove certain qualities of a certain something, as is done in other sciences. It had to have its own forms, which, according to
the different emotions, would affect the inner in different ways; so that if someone is not moved by commandments and prohibitions, he would be
touched by narrated examples, and if this person is not moved by them, he would be touched by the mercies shown to him; and if someone would not
be moved even by this, at least he would be touched by wise admonitions, by true promises, by terrible threats, so that he would at least be
encouraged to piety and praise of God.
Even though Bonaventure lists narrative as just one shape in which scripture reaches the heart of people, his fundamental distinction parallels
the two modes of reasoning outlined by US cognitive psychologist and educational theorist Jerome Bruner (1986), an early champion of the socalled
narrative turn. One is the logical or paradigmatic mode which seeks to convince by arguments and truth; the other is the narrative mode which
seeks to convince by lifelikeness. The first (argument) transcends the local and particular by identifying the absolutes or the general, the second
(narrative) locates experience in time and place and focuses on the particular. This narrative mode, as Bonaventure understood, is the mode
of scripture. It is also the central mode in studying religious practice. Scholarly practical theological attention to narrative thus has to account
for alternative ways of knowing besides rationalist positivism. Practical theologians often do not aim for general, objective, and absolute
knowledge, but develop local, particular, and in a certain sense subjective understandings.
Notwithstanding narrative’s long history, the systematic development of narrative approaches in general and of narrative approaches to religious
practices in particular is much more recent, like practical theology itself. The narrative turn is evident in many disciplines in the social and human
sciences since the second half of the twentieth century; it has also become a central perspective across the field of theology and religious studies (Ganzevoort et al., in press). Arguably the most important influence in this turn is Ricoeur’s hermeneutical philosophy. For practical theology, two related ideas have been central in developing narrative approaches. The first regards the narrative structure of how we understand and live our lives; the second is that meaningful action and identity can be interpreted as “text.”
The idea of a narrative structure of our understanding and experience implies that we organize our experiences in storylike forms, as
philosophical theologian Stephen Crites (1971) wrote in his seminal paper “The Narrative Quality of Experience.” We live our lives from day to day,
but we understand our life as if it were a story. Our collective identity, history, and religious tradition are likewise structured as stories. This is a
matter of “mimesis” or representation of the external reality in our mind and knowing. Building on a range of philosophers from Aristotle to
Gadamer, Ricoeur (1984–1988) identifies three dimensions of this mimetic representation. First, there is a “world behind the text,” consisting
of the context, events, and background of the narrator (be it a biblical writer, contemporary individual, group, and so on). Second, there is a
“world of the text,” the texture of carefully interwoven elements that together create a sense of meaning. Third, there is a “world in front of the
text,” the proposal of a possible world for the reader to live in, inviting her or him to respond. This triple mimesis describes how we come to
understand our life and world and also how we relate to the texts from a spiritual tradition.
The idea that meaningful action can be understood as a text has facilitated the application of hermeneutical theories and methods to the realm of the
social sciences and human practices. A narrative approach then can be used not only to analyze and interpret narrative, verbal forms (like life
stories, sermons, or biblical texts), but also human actions, including rituals, congregational exchanges, and so on. Actions can be considered as
texts in that they consist of an “author’s” meaningful communication to an “audience.” Like the text, the action becomes relatively independent from
the author and the original setting, and becomes open to reinterpretation by the audience. Similarly, identity can be understood as a narrative
structure, that is, the person’s reflective interpretation of himself/herself.
Identity thus is not some essential quality that needs to be uncovered, but the story one tells about oneself for a particular audience.
If narrative approaches are not limited to common textual forms, we need an open-ended working definition of narrative like the following: narrative
includes all forms of representation of real or fictional situations in a time sequence. This sequence connects events into patterns of causality,
desirability, development, and meaning.
These Ricoeurian notions contributed to the narrative turn, moving away from a modernist view of knowledge as the direct representation of an
objective external reality. Instead, knowledge, discourse, and action are seen as social constructions, interpretations of the world and ourselves
that try to make sense of that reality while engaging with others who form the “audience” for our stories. When we tell our life story, or when we
retell and re-enact the stories of our religious tradition in liturgy, we are actively negotiating what to include and how to frame it in such a way that
it will communicate with our audience. The central dimensions of a narrative approach therefore regard the relation with that which is given
(reality, the facts in one’s life course, tradition) and the relation with those for whom one tells this story (significant others, the wider world, God).
This implies a strong and positive attention to the narrator’s subjectivity.
Instead of taking stories as mere “windows” that enable us to “see” the reality about which they speak, we expect stories to be part of an ongoing
dialogue in which the narrator engages with her or his audience. Every story functions to establish, maintain, change, or end the relationship with
the intended audience (Day 1993). The first question to ask for any given story therefore is not “What does this story tell me about the external
reality?” Nor is it: “What does this story tell me about the speaker’s mind?”
Instead, the first question is “What does this story tell me about the relation this speaker has or wants to have with the audience, human and
divine? What does he or she try to accomplish with this story?” A narrative approach then sees practices and stories more as performative than as representative.