If chaplains are those who see the world from a different perspective, who bring to bear a theological frame of reference to their understanding of what is before them, then chaplains need to be people of imagination.
Let us define the faculty of the imagination as the ability to bring to mind that which is not directly and currently present to the senses. As Jean-Paul Sartre suggested in The Imaginary it is the ability to make present that which is currently absent. It is, in Roger Scruton’s helpful phrase, ‘a going beyond what is given’ (1974, p.98f). This is not to suggest that the imaginative faculty is an independent power of mind; rather it makes its distinctive contribution in concert with perception and reason (McIntyre, 1987, p.89). This becomes clear if one considers experimental science. The formulation of a hypothesis to be tested by experiment demands an inspired, imaginative leap; but this leap will be grounded in previous observation and rooted in rational sense. Or take a less rarefied example, and one close to my heart, using a bicycle as transport. The negotiation of traffic from the vulnerable position of two unpowered (or very limited powered) wheels demands an acute sense of anticipation. It requires the mental entertainment of what might happen in order to provide the protection of a degree of preparedness. Here the imagination makes present to the mind what has not yet occurred. But this is not a process of wild imaginings; its usefulness demands that it be constrained by what might reasonably be expected to happen, assisted by accumulated previous experience.
Imagination, I suggest, always operates with a combination of constraint and construction in varying proportions. The interpolation of missing data within a known field of variation mainly concerns constraint. But even the most reckless imaginings of the human mind, in say a ludicrous science fiction fantasy, will not wholly escape being shaped, constrained, by what is already known, even if such imaginings proceed by a method of negation of the known.
Imagination is indispensible for a great variety of tasks, but it is especially needed in the task of interpretation. If it is the case, and I am convinced that it is, that there is no meaning without interpretation, then the mere observation of ‘facts’ is insufficient to produce a coherent account of the world. Rather, such observations require to be placed within a ‘horizon of interpretation’ (Gadamer), that is, within a cluster of presuppositions about meaning. Only so can they gain significance. Consider trying to guess the identity and purpose of an unknown object. One tries out various ‘horizons of interpretation’ to see which makes most sense: Is it a tool, or a work of art, or a piece of dirt? This ‘trying out process’ requires imagination, a ‘going beyond what is given’.
Going beyond what is given is required when a person of artistic ability picks up a piece of driftwood and sees in it the carving yet to be. And a similar going beyond what is given is required if one is to see through the economic reduction of education to mere products, marketing strategies, demand curves and customer satisfaction to an activity capable of breaking upon the shores of the eternal and transcendent. In both activities, one is called upon to re-value what is before one.
It is precisely this ability of the imagination can conceive of alternatives to what is presently real, that makes it an essential component of eschatological thinking, that is thinking which views things from the perspective of their promised end. To view the meaning of the present in the light of God’s promised Kingdom means risking an alternative interpretation by drawing upon one’s theological imagination. It means being prepared to be constrained by what we know of God’s gracious action in Christ, yet reach out constructively to imaginatively envisage what the saving difference Christ brings might mean for a particular set of circumstances. For Walter Bruggemann (2011), this is one of the defining activities of the prophet who offers a critical and energising vision of an alternative account of things rooted in what is believed about God’s intentions.
What does this mean for chaplains in practice? Well consider a deeply challenging example offered by Stephen Shakespeare:
“Can we re-imagine every table [at which we are invited to sit with others] as connected to the [Eucharistic] one to which Christ invites us to receive him as the weakness and foolishness of God, made flesh in an imperfect world?” (2007, p.138)
Suddenly the bureaucratic and dryly procedural world of the committee meeting is confronted with the presence of Christ who invites us to ‘Do this in remembrance of me’. The all too easily assumed university language of efficient pragmatics is called in question by an example of sacrifice that will not fit any straight-forward cost-benefit analysis. The primacy of grace replaces the calculating manipulation of alliances and, unexpectedly, another world seems possible. Such playful use of the imagination will not tell you exactly what to say or what to do next, but it cannot but lead to new insight and new questions, perhaps even to new vision.
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