Imagination and Religion

A sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation (Blacksburg, VA), August 20, 2006, by the Reverend Christine Brownlie.

I could tell that the little girl was flying, even as gravity’s grip prevented her from soaring into the clouds. She was leaping up, again and again, flapping her thin arms against her side and smiling. Sweat brought a shine to her brow and her nose. Her braids bounced back and forth, and her eyes and her mouth were open wide. This was very hard work on a sultry August day, but she was enraptured. “I’m flying Grandma! I’m flying like an angel!” “You are!” said the woman trudging wearily behind her. “What do you see?” “Heaven!” shouted the child, still bobbing along and flapping her arms. Grandma smiled and shook her head. Kids she muttered to me.

I smiled back. Oh yes, kids and their wild imaginations. What else could you say? We were clearly on earth, walking on a concrete sidewalk, and it was a steamy August day. This wasn’t hell, to be sure. But it wasn’t heaven either.

For many of us, this charming scene would be a metaphor of the relationship between imagination and religion. Our Unitarian roots are firmly planted in the soil of reason, and to this day we hold fast to our faith that reason is our most reliable tool when we read the scriptures, stories, and doctrines of the world’s religions. If we can’t accept something on the basis of reason, then it just can’t be true. We can’t use reason to prove that there is a place called heaven, populated with angels and the souls of our departed loved ones, and so we think of this image as a creation of the imagination and not an actual place.

Our reliance — some would say our over-reliance — on reason comes with a price: we are reluctant, even unwilling to use imagination as a tool for insight and understanding when we deal with religious matters.

The word imagination is loaded with meaning and assumptions that I’d like to examine. For me, and probably for many of you, the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear this word is “fantasy,” something made-up and not real. I think of the imaginary friends of childhood, of goblins and Never-Never Land. But we know that imagination is also a gateway to an understanding of life and human experience. Think of the works of poets and artists and writers who use imagination to bring us to a deeper awareness of our humanity, our relationships, and our failings. A fertile imagination is essential to the work of engineers, designers, scientists, teachers, urban planners, and those who plan for the future of our towns and cities. Most people consider creativity to be a special gift and an admirable trait. But when it comes to the use of imagination in matters of religion and religious experience, we scoff. We read in scriptures about visions of angels and other unworldly creatures, stories of miraculous healings and other strange deeds, and we ask ourselves, “How could I possibly believe this?” It seems to me that many modern people — including many UUs — reject the foundational stories of their childhood faith because they are not literally true. As modern people we expect that if the account of an event is “true,” it speaks about real people and things that actually happened in real time.

This understanding of truth is an important aspect of our heritage as Unitarians. Our great forebears — William Ellery Channing, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Theodore Parker — wrote eloquent and courageous sermons that attacked the theological foundation of the Christian faith. They argued that the claim that Jesus was divine was false since it was based on accounts of miraculous events beyond human experience and human reason. We still applaud their words and follow their lead to the point that in the majority of our congregations, readings or stories from the Christian or Jewish scriptures are rarely heard.

We are much more comfortable with texts from the writings of other faiths, forgetting that these faiths too refer to stories and scriptures that are not “true” in a literal sense. Maybe we’re more comfortable with these texts because they are not a part of our personal religious heritage. Very few of us heard stories from the Hindu or Buddhist, or Islamic traditions that involve exotic beings or supernatural deeds that were “true” and worthy of our faith. As adults, we take such accounts as metaphors or myths that express something of the values and teachings of a faith. But some of us who were raised in the Jewish or Christian faiths experienced a painful time when we came to the conclusion that the ancient stories we heard from trusted adults were not really true, and because of that we turned away from our cradle faith.

I must say that I’ve never heard a UU say that they rejected the teachings of Buddhism because the story of Prince Siddhartha’s birth (another virgin birth accompanied by celestial signs and miracles) can’t possible be “true,” or that they’d never allow their children to learn about Hinduism because some of the gods are very strange — indeed, with blue skin, elephant heads, and dozens of arms. But we have a very different take on Christianity and Judaism. Maybe our reason blinds us. Maybe we need to use a little imagination

Thomas Trotter, the author of an essay on imagination and religion, points out that imagination has the ability to bring us to the “power of reality that lies at the heart of things.” Imagination helps us to cut through habit and dullness and to connect to the essence or the truth of human existence. Imagination brings vitality to human life. It is essential to community; when we can imagine a better future, we bind ourselves to one another and to our shared ideals. Why else, he asks, would dictators and those who would oppress the mind and spirit be so fearful of artists, writers, poets, and others who use their well-honed powers of imagination to point out the distortions and corruptions that are inherent in overweening power?

Trotter also claims that imagination saves religion from becoming overly rigid and doctrinal, or simply a confused and messy stew of experiences that have no centering sense of truth or reality.

How do we bring imagination to our own religious beliefs? To our own religious experiences? First we recognize that the tradition of using imagination to interpret and derive layers of meaning is as old as the scriptures themselves. Jewish scriptures used metaphors to describe the nature of the divine. In these writings God is depicted as an artistic and powerful creator, a great king, an angry judge, a merciful lord.

Centuries later the apostle Paul told his followers that the story of Abraham Sarah, and Hagar could be read as an analogy. Even today, pious Jews understand this important story to be literally true, but Paul said to use your imagination: there is more there than meets the eye. In the second century, the Christian theologian Origin said that scripture could be read on at least three different levels, and that each level — including analogy and metaphor — was valid, as well as valuable.

Let’s go back to the images of God I mentioned earlier. These metaphors are strictly masculine, and in many ways not very appealing to our modern sensibilities. Some of us are turned off by images of kingly power, a harsh condemning judge, or a force of terror and destruction. There are other images that we can find in the scriptures: a shepherd, a protective mothering hen, and images in later writings that are more expansive and relational. One of my favorites is from Meister Eckhart who understood God as a “loving mystery.” Process Theology envisions God as a relational co-creator. If these images seem far from those you were taught as a child, I remind you that as UUs we believe that revelation is ongoing. The Bible and any other sacred writing are important links in a chain of thought and understanding.

I would like to offer you an image of the feminine aspect of the divine that is found in the book of Sirach. This is a non-canonical book in the Jewish tradition, which means that it was not officially part of the approved scriptures. Some of it not to my point of view, but I like this description of God as the feminine persona of Wisdom “

My dwelling place was in the high heaven.
My throne was in a pillar of cloud.
Alone I made a circuit of the sky and traversed the depth of the abyss.
Over the waves of the sea, and over the whole earth and, over every people and nation I have held sway.
From eternity, in the beginning he created me, and for eternity I shall remain.
Approach me you who desire me, and take your fill of my fruits.

(excerpts from Sirach 24s)

Here is later image of the Divine, one that you may find troubling — even shocking. This time the author is engaged in a conversation with the author of the image, theologian and Saint, Thomas Aquinas:

I said to God, “Let me love you,” and He replied, “Which part?”
“All of you, All of you.” I said.
“Dear,” God spoke, “You are as a mouse wanting to impregnate a tiger who is not even in heat. It is a feat way beyond your courage and strength. You would run from me if I removed my mask.”
I said to God again, “Beloved, I need to love you — every aspect, every pore.”
And this time God said, “There is a hideous blemish on my body, though it is such an infinitesimal part of my Being — could you kiss that if it were revealed?”
“I will try Lord, I will try.”
And then God said, “That blemish is all the hatred and cruelty in this world.”

Here the great saint seems to be telling us to give up one imagined image of the divine, that of perfection, and to consider another one that might be more fruitful and trustworthy. No, the Church does not approve of it, but it might work better than that old doctrinal God.

I want to offer you one more example of the use of imagination as we consider again the well-known story from the Gospel of Matthew. Let’s take it as a metaphor that illuminates the differences between Jesus and his followers. Here is Jesus doing the impossible: living out his devotion to his call through his teaching and acts of compassion. Peter admires Jesus and wants to be like him, but his humanity keeps him from it. He’s worried and afraid. Jesus says, "Come on Peter, you can do it!" but his own doubts get the best of him, and he begins to sink. Aren’t we like Peter? Aspiring to something better that is so close, but what holds us back is our self-doubt, our fear of not being good enough, and our concern of what other people will say.

Imagination asks us to feel — not think. Biblical scholar Walter Wink says that we need to recover the ability to use both sides of the brain when we approach religious texts. Clearly, the authors of these texts wanted to affect the emotions as much as — or even more than — our rational side.

Feminist theologian Sally McFague writes that when we approach sacred texts, we bring all of who we are to that reading, and so do other people. This means that there is relativity, a plurality of interpretations and understandings. Both Wink and McFague warn that it is idolatry to say that there is only one way to understand the images and stories in the Bible. And I would say that the way of literal truth is probably the least helpful. It is too simplistic and too limiting.

I’d encourage you to turn to your imagination to help you grow your spiritual life. What can you discover through this wonderful faculty that will enhance and support your personal search for truths by you can live? I am thinking of truths that give you hope and a sense of purpose to your life. You don’t have to accept what the Sunday school teacher or the rabbi or the nuns told you. Your imagination and your own experiences of life can inform you and shed light on your path.

Before we end, let’s go back to our little girl, skipping along in the hot sunshine, flying along as she looked at the wonders of Heaven. Her joy reminded me of Jesus’ words that the Kingdom of God is here now. He said it’s within you, among you, and all around you. You just don’t see it. Maybe that’s because we are people of reason who don’t trust imagination. Let’s re-acquaint ourselves with this forgotten and often scorned tool, and let’s treasure it for the gift that it is as we continue to grow in heart, mind and spirit.

May it be so?

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