Thinking imagistically

Icon of the Last Judgement by Fr. Luke Dingman

Most of the time, we do not think using 'scientific', 'empirical' or 'rational' modes of thought: we do not think axiomatically or with pure logic. The reason is that such modes of approaching reality are extremely expensive: they require a lot of time, thought, rigor, training etc and most people do not have the leisure to learn to think in such ways. Instead, we mostly interact with reality in non-rational ways (not irrational): we attribute and assume cause and effect without 'scientific/empirical evidence'. That is to say, we use the language of story, symbol and imagination to approach reality most of the time. More than that, we make many decisions without fully thinking them through, that is, we make them according to habit or ritual or intuition. The reason, again, is that to think things through completely and in a fully rational way takes time, often more than a lifetime, because reality is complex, rife with unintended consequences that are usually opaque to us, and all of reality is, or potentially is, connected and thus inherently unpredictable (since to be completely certain you have to account for everything). Habit, ritual and tradition represent the product of years and centuries of reflection (and revelation), presenting in highly condensed form the wisest or best course of action that we have been able to see until now. The condensed or concentrated aspect of ritualised or traditional forms of knowledge allow it to be paradoxically simple in form but multivalent in application.

The primary forms of traditional knowledge included ritualised story, or liturgy, religious stories or myth, and in more 'degraded' form, legend and fairy stories. All these modes rely on images, particularly archetypal images and stories, and present reality in such terms: they speak the language of imagination.

Materialistic modernism focuses on the sensible world, that which is available through our senses, and through technological extensions of our senses. Such a focus is not a problem of itself, as physical reality is a very important aspect of reality: it is a problem when it presents itself as an entire solution. This is what has happened today: we see the world as that presented by materialistic naturalism, only accepting as real that which is perceptible through our sense of physical reality (the reasons for this change in perception are complex, but essentially depend on the apparent triumph of technology over pre-modern conceptions of causal relationships).

As moderns, we thus do not see stories as being real in any way. They function primarily as entertainment, although they are perhaps seen as necessary illusions, as per postmodernism. Because of this cultural atmosphere, we have erased archetypal thinking from conscious thought. Conscious thought relates to what we know we know, unconscious to what we know, but aren't necessarily aware of. Both these modes of knowledge are necessary, because we need to know more than what we can consciously know.

Imagine, therefore, traditional human thought in the following way: a top level populated with imagistic and archetypal thought which bears directly on 'ethical' thinking, that is, deciding what course of action is best to take, and a lower level of the sensible world, which is knowable through 'geometric' and measurative means. Logical thinking does apply at both levels, but with one important caveat: the top level deals with qualities in the context of story, which introduces the possibility of logical loops and paradoxes. These are not possible in the sensible world (except maybe with things like quantum mechanics). Thus, thought often becomes super-rational: dealing with a reality that surpasses logic. Prime examples in Christianity are God becoming man, the Trinity or the real Presence in the Eucharist.

Moderns, however, do not accept such paradoxical or imagistic thinking as 'real' and have, in the centuries following the Enlightenment, progressively erased imagistic thinking from our consciousness of what we perceive to be actually and ultimately real. All that remains of the higher modes of thought are those related to rational, logical thought, and only content derived by geometric and measurative means from the sensible world is permitted as real. However, this has not changed the way we *act*. We still act and think in ways that are only coherent if you assume imagistic or narrative thought. This can only mean one thing: the archetypes that govern our 'ethical' decisions, our 'values' (that horrible word) and our proximate and ultimate goals *are still present in our thought* but we are unconscious of them.

This way of thinking is often assumed in the Church. In particular, the traditional imagery of theology has been erased from sermons, stripped from church furniture, layout and architecture and actively derided and trivialised as an exercise for those of infantile or escapist minds. Instead, theology has been reduced to or replaced with that which is only coherent under a rationalistic schema. Logic is always preferred over paradox or mystery, with the exception of very few examples, (generally the three mentioned above, because they are absolutely non-negotiable).

This creates a problem, however, because people do not think in the way that theology is commonly laid out today: they think imagistically. Therefore, preachers are in a quandary: they have been taught the structure of reality according to a rationalistic framework, so that reality is apparently mainly rationalist, but are faced by congregations that think imagistically. The 'solution': using metaphor or stories drawn from the everyday experience of the parishioners to illustrate theological realities. I am groaning as I write the following, because it really is a terrible situation we have landed ourselves in.

The problem with using metaphor to illustrate something is simply that images have a certain telos (goal or purpose) and coherence, as well as 'objective' associations. Therefore, if you use a metaphor that is not designed to fit the truth you are seeking to communicate, your message will 1) not last 2) appear corny (think evangelical Christian movies) and/or 3) be difficult to retain in the imagination of your audience. In addition, the truth is never improved and a listener's awareness is never raised to a higher level by using an inappropriate metaphor: it is always lowered.

Think of it this way: you are trying to communicate the value of a precious stone. But you only have available coarse, cheap or common materials in which to set it. The value of the stone is thus not raised by the contrast with coarse material. You do not say to your engaged "I bought you a ring made of tin, but it has a great diamond!" No: it must be set in gold or silver, because it is fitting and right that a beautiful stone receives a beautiful setting: its glory is revealed and enhanced by the precious metals. Or of a king: to dress in an ill-fitting farmer's costume is inappropriate and does not accurately convey the image of 'king' to a person's imagination. The traditional language of the Church correctly dresses or presents the principles or truths she wishes to teach in appropriate imagery, so that they appear naturally to the minds of the listeners. They are able to persist over time, and like a good work of art, grow richer with age, and are multivalent in application. Using sports or workplace metaphors are generally inappropriate to convey the truths of Christianity.

This is the plague of relevance in the Church: abandoning traditional imagery, not because it does not fit the truth to be conveyed, but because the leaders of the Church (and the general populace) no longer believe images are part of reality, and so approach them in a utilitarian spirit. The greatest problem with using images drawn from the surrounding culture that are inappropriate to the truths being conveyed is that it gives people no way of thinking imaginatively. Instead, all their images of thought are shaped and derived by secular culture, *not* the Church. Marvel superheroes populate more minds than do the heroes of the faith in the Church.

When you consider that thinking imaginatively is the dominant or meta-language of humanity that contains and surpasses all rational thought, this is a very serious lapse. It is even more serious when the following point is made explicitly: the images which populate our thought and art, determine our choices and decisions, and direct the course of our lives primarily through story are actually real. They are principles that appear independent of culture and history in a coherent fashion. They are beings, or forms of being, that are above humanity. The traditional story of Christianity allows for their existence, as in fact they are appointed by God to govern particular aspects of reality. In Christ, they are harmonised and tell true stories; outside Christ, they are diabolical and tell falsehoods. To dress them in the imagery of sports games (for example) thus misrepresents them, Christ and God. The only solution is to return to the true images of the Church and fill the hearts and lives of the parishioners with the true stories. In doing so, the Church correctly presents reality and enables the parishioners to correctly engage with reality.