Imagination and Empathy

Ralph Waldo Emerson would have celebrated this morning's worship, which explored three overlapping pathways to the imagination: reason, movement and artistic inspiration. He insists that 'imagination is not a talent of some people, but is the health of every person.' Indeed, each of the three lay leaders testified to the importance of imagination in maintaining the health of their spiritual lives. Whether tempered by reason's pull towards practicality, harnessed during yogic meditation or emancipated from the shackles of the mundane through artistic expression, imagination seems to open a door to the not-yet - the world of maybes and oughts that lures us towards our better selves.


In a recent New York Times article, legal ethicist Martha Nussbaum argues that "we need the imaginative ability to put ourselves in the positions of people different from ourselves." Imagination, we might say, breeds empathy, literally 'in-feeling.' Through the use of our imagination, we learn to conjugate our possible-selves (i.e. the people we could become) with the fluency that we conjugate verbs. This ability to see ourselves in different circumstances and behaving in different ways in turn helps us come to see another person's situation as less distant or incomprehensible. 


A slightly odd, but timely, example: The other night I went to the cinema to watch Vision, the German-language film chronicling the life of medieval saint and seer Hildegard von Bingen. While the plot dragged at times, the visual depiction of, and musical landscape associated with, monastic life was striking. By the end, I found myself daydreaming, my imagination spinning ascetic incarnations of myself. What would it be like to dedicate the rest of my life to prayer and monastic work (ora et labora)? What would my meals taste like? How would my body feel as I lumped myself into bed? Considering these questions, I began to paint an emotional picture of a new way-of-being. I filled in, or 'feeling-ed in,' a different life position. I can't say I have since located a monk perusing Harvard Square with whom to evaluate my newfound level of empathy! But I can say, with some confidence, that I grew in my appreciation for the quiet life - for a simpler, but by no means easier, type of existence. 


This afternoon, while facilitating the Coming of Age scavenger hunt in downtown Boston, an adult parishioner spoke about his preference for frequent reprieve from the urban bustle. "Maybe I'm just a country boy," he exclaimed. And somehow, I felt a deeper connection, a stronger resonance, with his longing for quiet and simplicity.  


Take a moment to imagine: who could you be? Who might you become? 


What fantasies has your imagination planted in your mind?


And might these possible-you's enable a healthier relationship - with yourself and with others in your life?

Thought for the Week: We imagine ourselves into empathy.