Site Navigation
Divine Revelation and Human Learning: A Christian Theory of Knowledge
Faculty of Theology and Philosophy
School of Theology
David Heywood, Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2004.
Reviewed by Aaron Ghiloni, a doctoral student in practical theology at the University of Queensland, runs a blog devoted to theological topics: http://aaronghiloni.blogspot.com/
Pedagogically, what does it mean for a divine voice to be heard by human ears? Inasmuch as God is a teacher, what are the theological implications of learning theory? If the educational commonplaces are true – we learn from experience, paradigms shape perceptions, knowledge is socially formed – what does it mean to learn from God? Here, in a book written over the course of two decades, David Heywood asks these questions and, in answering them, proposes that revelation be understood in pedagogical terms.
For God to "speak" needn't imply the suspension of the psychological and sociological ways humans "hear". So, rather than start with a pedagogical conversation-stopper in the form of deposited doctrine, Heywood wants to inquire into "the way revelation might be received" (11). The reception of revelation means that God's words are not directly given as bits of data, but are embedded in intuitions, senses, and practices. While revelation carries a certain normativeness, Heywood suggests it is a normativeness demonstrated in personal formation not propositional content. That is, revelation is "the transforming gift of a new identity" not a storehouse of timeless truth (142). However, though it is a form of tacit knowing, revelation does not imply a kind of pedagogical experiential-expressivism. In fact, Heywood claims his book is "an apologetic for a traditional Christianity" (172) and, indeed, its doctrinal substance is fairly conservative. This is just the sort of pedagogical theory that conservative religious education needs – one that takes anthropology seriously.
Heywood's proposal is not dissimilar to the one made by Gabriel Moran in his 2002 book Both Sides: The Story of Revelation. Moran suggests that revelation is like education: "teach-learn offers a comprehensive metaphor for what Christians and Jews came to call revelation" and "[r]evelation is divine teaching that exists only with a human response". Though not demonstrating an awareness of Moran's proposal, what Heywood has done is offer an extended commentary on Moran's notion of the "teach-learn" relationship.
Situated somewhere between the religious education theories of R.C. Miller (Christian education should be theologically-shaped) and Michael Lee (Christian education should be pedagogically-shaped), Divine Revelation and Human Learning attempts to utilize both perspectives. It argues for a "'Christian' theory of knowledge incorporating a theory of learning that draws on empirical research recognized as significant by the experts in the relevant fields and a theology of revelation capable of winning the acceptance of theological specialists" (10). This correlation between a theory of learning and a theology of revelation leads Heywood on a path winding through a range of academic fields: first psychology and philosophy, followed by some sociology, more psychology, and finally to issues of theological method and Christology.
This sort of interdisciplinary work in theology is exciting but also fraught with difficulty. Not only does an adequate correlation between disciplines present a methodological test; form is also a challenge. The artistry demanded of interdisciplinary theology is rare. It isn't sufficient to simply place sundry arguments side-by-side and then note a few parallels; the author must surprise and captivate readers by bringing diverse areas together in productive and provocative ways.
In this regard the text is only mildly successful. While methodological issues are skillfully handled, the text's aesthetic leaves something to be desired. I will note two reasons. First, the text's prose is quite bland. This was disappointing as I found Heywood's initial ideas fascinating and was anticipating a provocative read. However, like a nutritious yet lackluster lunch, the meal offered here is well-rounded yet lacking in zest. I suspect this result comes, not from the quality of Heywood's proposal or his writing capability, but from the risk of converting a doctoral thesis into book. Perhaps the editor shares some culpability.
Second, Divine Revelation and Human Learning should have been two-thirds shorter or two-thirds longer. On the one hand, its most noteworthy proposals are confined to the introduction, the conclusion, and a chapter on "theology among the sciences". In this regard its essence could have been confined to a provocative journal article. On the other hand, Heywood's ample review of literature in psychology, philosophy, sociology, and anthropology bolster the argument significantly. In this regard, the meat of the book functions as a prolegomena for a prolonged study on religious learning. Though I read from cover-to-cover, I would advise readers to first visit the introduction, chapter 5, and conclusion, and only then return to the remaining sections as it suits their tastes.
However, even given these criticisms, Divine Revelation and Human Learning is worth chewing on. Theologians who understand revelation as a doctrinal category will find a helpful corrective in Heywood's suggestion that revelation is a learning event. Religious educators will find validation for what they know intuitively— spiritual formation is far more than lectures and documents. Conservative religious educators will especially benefit from the argument that orthodoxy need not ignore a turn to the subject. Accolades to David Heywood for notably advancing the questions asked by practical theologians as they seek to learn from a divine Teacher. We can hope that this prolegomena will be followed by another volume that advances the thesis into a full-blown theory of religious education.
