"An active moral imagination..."

"Imagine no possessions.
I wonder if you can?
No need for greed or hunger.
A brotherhood of man.
Imagine all the people sharing all the world...

You may say that I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one.
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will live as one..."
- John Lennon

I've spent 40 years thinking about the lyrics to John Lennon's 1972 peace anthem, Imagine. I love the hope for humanity it offers. But sitting in the parking lot, just before church one Sunday, it finally all came alive for me.

Thank you Krista Tippett -- thank you, thank you, thank you. Talk about redemption. I am deeply grateful. So, here's the story:

As a child I was credited with having  a vivid imagination.  When it was referred to, it was in a tone of voice that made it clear that this was something of a character flaw.  It was implied that it was something I should file away as a secret fault.  Something I should feel badly about identifying myself with. And so, it became a pocket of shame, filled with dark concerns about my relationship to reality.

I early learned that having an imagination was not the same as "knowing the Truth." And since "knowing the Truth" was good - and brought spiritual freedom, it was implied that having a vivid imagination was a waste of time. An active imagination was something flaky, silly, and the selfish indulgence of a mind less scientifically inclined or fact-based. Hence, it was a quality I shouldn't celebrate or honor -- in myself or others.

But that Sunday, Krista gave me back my dignity as an imaginative being. And for that -- I am so deeply grateful.

That Sunday morning, she interviewed John Paul Lederach. Lederach is the author of The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace -- during her NPR program, On Being. As a Mennonite, Lederach continues in the footsteps of a rich community of Protestant reformers.  Men and women who took on the Christian demand to be peacemakers, with a special passion. Wherever there is war in the world, Mennonites can be found as mediators and medics, fire fighters, and mental healthcare givers.

That Sunday morning, it was simply the title of the book that lifted my soul. For over a decade now, I have deeply pondered Mary Baker Eddy's definition of the word "moral," from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures.   I have considered its implications with great spiritual purpose. It has come to inform my sense of moral courage -- my own standard for moral behavior.  And it has given me clear guidelines for moral reasoning. Eddy offers as her definition:

Moral. Humanity, honesty, affection,
compassion, hope, faith, meekness, temperance.

Well, during Krista's interview, Lederach explored the worth and value of having a "moral imagination." He offered that those who exercise an active moral imagination are able to imagine solutions that go above and beyond the systems, paradigms, techniques, and processes which have become normative for socio-political behavior.

For example, peace builders that have a vivid moral imagination can imagine their enemies as friends. They can imagine a solution to conflict which refuses to choose a side.  They can look beyond a dualistic "right or wrong" battle of wills -- and instead seek to discover new, uncharted ground for forging relationships of understanding and compassion.

I love having an active and vivid moral imagination. I love imagining a world where former spouses partner lovingly in parenting their children. Where neighbors can find joy in one another's company without the need for compromised values. Where fathers can embrace their sons, without the need for either's consent to specific "healing" outcomes on issues of gender, politics, or religion. I love imagining a hospital filled with fearless spiritual healers, and churches filled with physicians seeking a path towards more compassion-based modalities of treatment.

It's been pure joy, letting my moral imagination run rampant. I can imagine radical humanity in the face of inhumane disinterest. I have given myself permission to dream freely about a fearless honesty that dances nakedly in the dark alleyways of self-doubt. I can indulge in visions of rich affection walking boldly, where disquiet tiptoes along the edges of judgment and rejection. I can cherish images of revolutionary compassion inhabiting the courtrooms of shame.

I relish my right to celebrate the totalitarian rule of a divinely-defined faith within each man, woman and child. A holy, uplifting faith asserting itself where apathy would lull our world into resignation and pessimism. I lean into the the distant strains of a meekness so sweet, and deep, that it sings its song of peace unchallenged by the spectres of anger and resentment. And I can sense the presence of a breath-taking temperance, so clearly informed by the reign and rule of God -- the one Sovereign of "the kingdom within" each of us -- that it is undeterred and unshaken by the opinions of others or the extremism of culture.

I love having a rich moral imagination.  And, as Ian McEwan once wrote:

“Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself
is at the core of our humanity.


It is the essence of compassion and the beginning of morality.”

Forty years ago, John Lennon offered us a window on moral imagination -- looking through its lens fills the heart with "new views of divine goodness and love."

What can you imagine?

with Love,


Kate


postscript: Someone just sent me this Percy Bysshe Shelly quote. It speaks so beautifully to what is at the heart of this message:

“A man, to be greatly good, 
must imagine intensely and comprehensively; 
he must put himself in the place of another 
and many others; 
the pains and pleasures of his species 
must become his own. 

The great instrument of moral good 
is the imagination.”