Narrative Apologetics (Alister McGrath)

[RamistThomist]

McGrath, Alister E. Narrative Apologetics: Sharing the Relevance, Joy, and Wonder of the Christian Faith. Baker Books, 2019.

I sometimes suspect that a successful “narrative apologetic” is the holy grail for some theologians. We know deep down inside that Scripture is based on a narrative. Moreover, most (if not all) New Testament sermons are simply retellings of Israel’s own story. Very few are sermons in the sense we understand the word. Even when Paul does give doctrinal truths, he often does it in the larger context of–or at least echoing–some aspect of Israel’s narrative. The dogmatic and other non-narratival aspects of Scripture themselves depend on a deeper narrative substructure.

So far, so good. Applying this consistently is a different matter. If one simply adapts the above format, that is biblical theology. If one avoids it and heads straight for cultural engagement, then the biblical story becomes irrelevant. Oxford theologian Alister McGrath attempts, and largely succeeds, to merge the two strands of biblical narrative and cultural engagement. For him, the idea of “narrative” allows Christians to “connect” with unbelievers in a way that the traditional arguments do not.

But why stories? Stories allow us to see the truth of the whole. If the mind seeks patterns, then no one individual strand will give the whole of the message. Stories, however, allow the patterns to unfold.

There is a danger to avoid. The true narrative does not try to merely best explain the world or exist as the world’s explanation. If that is the goal of apologetics, then you do not need a narrative to do that. That is simply continuing Enlightenment rationalism by slightly more interesting means.

Theological Foundations

If earlier apologists attempted an ‘inference to the best explanation,’ McGrath suggests an “inference to the best narrative.” A good narrative must explain the world, but it must do more. Not only must it give the best account of the human condition, but it must do so in such a way that it invites the reader to enter into the story.

There is the old pattern of “Creation, Fall, and Redemption,” which should probably be reimagined as “Creation, Fall, Israel, and Redemption.” McGrath indirectly suggests that this structure, including subplots such as exile, forms the thrust of our narrative apologetic.

But that might be putting the cart before the horse. By championing narrative, McGrath in no way downplays the importance of rigorous argument. Even if, to echo C. S. Lewis, argument cannot bring one to faith, faith itself often dies in an atmosphere where there are no reasons for it.

Narrative works on the mind (and body) in much the same way suggested by Dorothy Sayers’ Mind of the Maker: the pattern of the created mind corresponds to the pattern of the created universe. Narrative apologetics capitalizes on the mind’s pattern-seeking ability.

Practical Applications

Narrative apologetics avoids the limitations involved with more abstract methods. Stories help us step inside another way of seeing our world (Melander). Indeed, men like C. S. “Lewis offer not abstract propositions for belief…but the feel of living in the world narrated by the biblical story.” They avoid “spectator evidence for God” (Paul Moser). Another and more real world “has entered into our world.”

Criteria of relevance for narrative apologetics

Here we run across a potential danger: does this mean we just sit and tell stories to one another? Even worse, if the criteria in narrative apologetics is “tell a better story,” what do we do with other faiths that have their own holy books? Some say he best story makes sense of all other stories. That is easier said than done. What is the criteria for “best?”

McGrath is aware of these problems. The best story will make inferences to the best explanation of the human condition. It will show that the Christian story connects with the deepest aspects of the human condition. It will offer a realistic account of our world, and allow the reader to step inside and connect with the narrative.

Evaluation

As the last few paragraphs indicate, there are some limitations with McGrath’s proposal. These problems are similar to the ones in George Lindbeck’s “cultural-linguistic model” for religious life, as seen in The Nature of Doctrine. For example, it is hard to imagine someone outside a faith community to be all that interested in the narrative of another faith community. On the other hand, though, this might work better with the so-called “Nones.”

These limitations notwithstanding, McGrath’s book is a success. Even if he does not give an air-tight defense of his position, he does make it quite clear and practical. Even with the temptation, admittedly present with many of us, to reduce narrative apologetics to “another round with C. S. Lewis,” it is wise and instructive to see how Lewis used narrative to become arguably the most influential fiction writer of the twentieth century.

“Connections between clues”

In conclusion, a good story will provide the best explanation while showing the best connection between clues. How do we know which narrative about reality is the true one? As Michael Polanyi and others have noted, the evidence will eventually cook the theory. The best story will emerge.

 

[Knight]

Having not read about "narrative apologetics" but being aware of the concept, I would be interested in how much my own reflections overlap with McGrath's. I'll take advantage of your review to unpack my own thoughts and use a past apologetic argument I've made against Molinism as a point of departure:

In contexts involving the problem of evil and the Reformed response, I tend to hear a lot about God as the "author of evil." But consider two publishers:

1) Publisher 1 publishes a book he wrote, and the book he wrote includes characters that choose moral evil.

2) Publisher 2 has drafts of books handed to him (by whom? who knows!), and he chooses to publish one in which characters choose moral evil over any drafts of books in which no one chooses moral evil.

Is there a significant moral difference between the two publishers? I fail to see one. One might argue that because publisher 1 was also the author of the book, he is morally "responsible" for causing the characters who choose moral evil in a way that publisher 2 was not.

Now, a publisher who is also the author has more direct, intentional impact on why characters act a certain way. But his reasons for writing them the way he does need not differ from the reasons a mere publisher perusing the same book might choose it involving the same characters. If it is morally acceptable for the second publisher to publish the same book as the first publisher (who also authored the book), the burden is on the one who argues that the first publisher acted in a morally unacceptable way to pinpoint why the first publisher's more direct and intentional connection is morally unacceptable. Simply stating that the first publisher was also the author is not an argument against the moral acceptability of his actions.

In fact and on the contrary, I would argue that an author who intentionally writes characters a certain way is, if anything, in a better position to know why the book is worth publishing in contrast to a publisher who has been handed several drafts ("dealt" a hand) and left to divine - pun intended - which one tells the best story!

In the last paragraph, note that I using the word "story" to refer to the realization of that which God has eternally decreed.

What is a "story"? What is a "narrative"? The simplest definition I can think of is that stories are narrations of real or imagined events with real or imagined characters.

Are all stories literally fictional, for example? Surely not. People tell stories about their childhoods, day-to-day experiences, lifetimes, or even generations. These stories are [auto]biographical, literally true.

Given my argument against Molinism, I think creation and the providential unfolding of God's eternal decree is archetypal artwork or "storytelling." We might call this the "divine Story." Any other stories told are, at most, "micro-stories," literal or metaphoric recapitulations of [sub-narratives within] the overarching divine Story. Even Scripture is a [divinely authenticated] micro-story (or series of micro-stories), as Scripture does not narrate all truths God has ordained, let alone exemplify or instantiate the realities to which said truths correspond.

Fictional stories in particular will only be persuasive insofar as they draw inspiration from and beckon one back to the archetypal divine Story which itself was not inspired by anyone other than the archetypal Storyteller. Lewis's fiction is all the more fascinating due to his biographical background. I think Narnian exploration is a sort of fictional recapitulation of Lewis's own life and discovery of the truth of Christianity.

Storytelling is inextricably bound to and presuppose storytellers. Thus, it would seem narrative apologetics presupposes some other apologetic. This is far from problematic - and even seems to be implied in "inference to the best explanation" - but it is worth mentioning. It is, of course, true that people can understand a quality story without knowing the storyteller. But there are billions of stories and storytellers - placing emphasis on the question of "Whose story is the best?" is one way of sifting for comparative purposes.

[As an aside, we also must be careful about what we mean by "best." There is no "best of all possible worlds" when that is taken to mean that God could not have decreed otherwise than He has. The divine Story is not a necessitated one.]

Now, McGrath and I would certainly agree that "stories" can resonate, persuade, and therefore serve an apologetic function. In fact, from God's ordination of all things, it does necessarily follow that the divine Story within which we were eternally conceived and now subsist must contain that which persuades us of its very truth.

Of course, we are only characters and actors within this divine Story. Perhaps, then, the archetypal divine Story is an allusion to a sort of transcendental apologetic, whereas McGrath's "narrative apologetics" is mainly interested in ectypal micro-stories. If so, that's fine. There must be a role for this too, for the only means by which we can come to know the archetypal divine Story is through micro-stories. After all, we can't comprehend the divine Story, for we are not omniscient. We only know something of its beginning, something of its rhythms, and something of its consummation. That story inspires our stories about it.

And true micro-stories can be quite interesting, especially when adapted to and recognize our "human condition" (as you note McGrath says). For example, the following is completely intelligible to me, yet each use of "word of God" has a distinct meaning:

A word of God will participate in the word of God, a visible sign of the word of God that corresponds to the word of God of the Word of God.

Green: believers are words of God (Revelation 19:9), conformed to the sound of their Savior.
Blue: the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, a participatory, visible sign of that which we proclaim (1 Corinthians 11:26).
Red: that which is written, that which we proclaim, the revealed Scriptures which testify of our Savior (Revelation 22:18, John 5).
Purple: propositional truths to which the inscripturated words correspond and by which we are sanctified (John 10:35, 17:17).
Orange: our Savior, Jesus Christ by Whom we are sanctified (John 1:1, 17:17).

Ectypal word, visible word, written word, invisible word, Archetypal Word. Revealed w/Words all. A resonating narrative, perhaps even chiastic.

 

[MW]

Thankyou for the review, Jacob. It gave me a desire to read the book. The problem is, it will have to go to the back of the line, and it's a long line.

Having seen this kind of apologetic at work in a few post-modern contexts, my main criticism is, there is no guarantee that the best narrative must necessarily exist. One would need to have recourse to the ontological argument for these kinds of apologetical strategies to work.

Another criticism -- it presupposes a lot in terms of what is best; and in some sense it justifies human autonomy since the narrative can only be constructed in terms of what is best for man. We also have the utilitarian problem of quantifying "good," which is a necessary part of arriving at the best. And finally, what happens with all those parts of the narrative where what is personally best for the individual is not fulfilled -- e.g., hell. We can only think in terms of a collective best at that point. And if we strain it towards a personal best we will mangle the story in terms of justice and grace.

My commendation of the method -- it rings true. There is a part of me that says yes. I will just never know if it is the better or the worse part of me.

 

[RamistThomist]

Thankyou for the review, Jacob. It gave me a desire to read the book. The problem is, it will have to go to the back of the line, and it's a long line.

Having seen this kind of apologetic at work in a few post-modern contexts, my main criticism is, there is no guarantee that the best narrative must necessarily exist. One would need to have recourse to the ontological argument for these kinds of apologetical strategies to work.

Another criticism -- it presupposes a lot in terms of what is best; and in some sense it justifies human autonomy since the narrative can only be constructed in terms of what is best for man. We also have the utilitarian problem of quantifying "good," which is a necessary part of arriving at the best. And finally, what happens with all those parts of the narrative where what is personally best for the individual is not fulfilled -- e.g., hell. We can only think in terms of a collective best at that point. And if we strain it towards a personal best we will mangle the story in terms of justice and grace.

My commendation of the method -- it rings true. There is a part of me that says yes. I will just never know if it is the better or the worse part of me.

I agree. He left the term "best" relatively undefined and unjustified. I probably agree with where he is going but his project needs more work.

 

[No Other Name]

@Knight if I could engage your publisher analogy a bit further?

If Publisher 1 (the one who is also the author) has a cast of characters who all have flaws ("post-Fall" if you will) then one has a cast of characters that have moral failings inherent within themselves. A lot of creative writing teachers insist on no "perfect characters" incidentally - although that is not a hard and fast rule so much as if a character is "perfect" at least within the bounds of the story then that character invariably is static and has no arc.

Now imagine if one would introduce a stand-in character for the reader to write a scene to augment the flaws inherent within the antagonist.

Like if there is a scene where someone asks Macbeth what he really wants more than anything. Is there going to be an answer other than the crown? And would that desire not override anything else around him?

Maybe there was a time when Saruman would have - in his fledgling despair - desired Sauron to be less powerful than he perceived him to be. Yet in his thirst for more power, he kept using the palantir and eventually the despair turned into a desire to serve evil unreservedly.

And that is the Saruman we meet as readers at the moment when Gandalf came to Isengard to report on the One Ring. Here, Tolkien "gives to Saruman" what Saruman desires anyway and is as morally corrupted as he chose to be. The moral purity of Gandalf stands out in contrast - even to the point of suffering to reveal at least 3 things:

1) the moral steadfastness of Gandalf
2) the full corruption of Saruman
3) Tolkien's *subtle approval* of one over the other by how he is telling the story

EXAMPLE of *subtle or unspoken approval*: an "anti-Tolkien" author (they do exist) could write the same scenes between these two with all the details identical to the details within Tolkien's work yet justify Saruman and his view by use of a) inner monologue, b) different emphasizing on the same dialogue he used in Tolkien's, c) a slight twist in dialogue trying to elicit sympathy or even empathy from "anti-Tolkien"'s external reader.

This technique was employed by many anti-Tolkiens I know of including Michael Moorcock and George R R Martin whose goal is to communicate moral complexity and to always muddy the lines between good and evil so much so that they would object to the lack of quotes around these terms as I just wrote them.

But of course this makes sense given their worldview. The only way for conflict to end is if good is so perfect that there would never be any conflict. They do not believe in perfect good in the world (a part of their view that is actually true) so they must muddy what is good by more flaws and remove any happy endings.

Does that eventually end up with "better stories" though?

The definition must be cautious of external factors to the story like nostalgia (for both LOTR and ASOIAF etc) and which film and TV version was able to capture the story better and which books had more printings etc.

These factors are irrelevant to what is truly "best".

This is ultimately why I loved John Gerstner's simple reply to the so-called problem of pain. He growled that if one understands the story, the problem of pain goes away entirely. ("enti-ir-rely" waving his hands emphatically).

"The problem becomes a problem of pleasure. In the face of an infinitely holy God how can we not be in hell right no-ow?