What If

Antoine de Saint-Exupe´, the French aviator and writer best known for the The Little Prince, wrote, “The theoretician believes in logic[,] and believes that he despises dream, intuition, and poetry. He does not recognize that these three fairies have only disguised themselves in order to dazzle him….He does not know that he owes his greatest discoveries to them.”

The supposed unimaginative dryness of pure logic and theory aside, we value imagination highly in our society. About the worst thing we can say about a piece of music, a movie, a painting or sculpture, even a meal, is that it is unimaginative or uninspired. We love to quote the late Senator Ted Kennedy quoting his slain brother Bobby: “There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why…I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?” And whether or not we ourselves would choose to live in a tiny cabin in the woods, we can admire Henry’s imaginative approach to expanding his space beyond the walls.

Oh, we scoff sometimes. We lament kids or spouses or students who have more imagination than common sense. Or give ourselves a little mental shake and scold sternly, “what’s needed around here is a little less imagination and a little more reality.” But more often, and, in fact, with astonishing frequency, we marvel. “Whoever imagined…

the Pyramids

horseless carriages

jazz

human organ transplants

the Panama Canal

manned space flight

the internet

a city block inhabited by furry monsters and human beings of every hue and nationality and ability, one where kids learn numbers and letters and sharing,

satellite communication

a mixed race president of the United States

microchips

professional wrestling

nuclear weapons…”

Well, actually we do know exactly who imagined some of those. In the case of nuclear weapons it was Becquerel, Chadwich, Curie, Einstein, Fermi, Fuchs, Hall, Lawrense, Meitner, Oppenheimer, Seaborg, and Szilard.

And some of the more poignant things we know about them are their thoughts at having imagined such a thing–and brought it into being. “In some crude sense, which no vulgarity, no humor, no overstatement can quite extinguish, the physicists have known sin; and this is a knowledge which they cannot lose,” said Robert Oppenheimer.

We could argue about whether science is to be judged according to moral standards, or if it is neutral in and of itself with morality only attaching to the use to which scientific discovery and knowledge are put. Indeed, Oppenheimer also said, “When you see something that is technically sweet, you go ahead and do it and you argue about what to do about it only after you have had your technical success. That is the way it was with the atomic bomb.”

What stands without argument is the second part of Oppenheimer’s first statement “...this [sin] is a knowledge which they cannot lose.”

In her review of 2009’s Star Trek, the 11th film in the franchise, Natalia Antonova declared: “imagination has consequences, but … this doesn’t make it any less beautiful in the grand scheme of things.”

It’s an idea that has been explored by theologians, philosophers, scientists and science fiction and fantasy writers. In my mind it is closely related to, though not quite the same as, the understanding that once thought an idea cannot be unthought. Once obtained knowledge cannot be unobtained.

We praise, and rightly so, imagination, but we cannot deny that it has consequences, mostly unforeseen.

Sesame Street, televised State of the Union addresses, and ESPN are all consequences of television. So was Pong, and PS5 and XBox series S/X are consequences of Pong. Commonplace transatlantic travel and 9/11 are consequences of Kitty Hawk. The International Space Station, our indelible mental image of the earth as a swirled blue and white marble, and the tragedies of the Space Shuttles Columbia and Challenger are all consequences of manned space flight. Worship services streaming on YouTube Live, telemedicine, and electronic banking are all consequences of Charles Babbage’s Analytic Engine and Ada Lovelace’s programming for it.

Those who are fearful or distrustful of the unknown and the new and the different might view the mixed bag of consequences, some positive, some negative, some hard to classify, as reason enough to avoid or stifle imagination. Imagination has consequences and once thought an idea cannot be unthought, so best to avoid the shebang, the reasoning might go.

That head in the sand approach to the existence and possibility of imagination may seem safe but is ultimately, ironically, unrealistic. Because imagination and ideas and their consequences pop up everywhere, in everyone, all the time. Individual no less diverse than Ursula K. Le Guin, Paul Gaugin, Lewis Carrol and Francis Bacon knew this truth about the human experience, writing, respectively:

“I doubt that the imagination can be suppressed. If you truly eradicated it in a child, he would grow up to be an eggplant” (Ursula K. Le Guin).

“It is the eye of ignorance that assigns a fixed and unchangeable color to every object; beware of this stumbling block” (Paul Gaugin).

“Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast” (Lewis Carrol).

“They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea” (Francis Bacon).

We know the pervasive, unavoidable nature of imagination, too. When our mind wanders during a boring sermon, when we daydream in our cubicle or on a long familiar drive, when a rough poem or phrase of music haunts us until we write it down, even when we select our clothes or furnish our homes or plant our gardens–countless times through our days and years, our imagination comes to our service. Amusing us to stave off mind-numbing routine. Stretching our thought processes lest they grow stiff or calcified. Opening new gateways to joy and delight, serenity and justice. Imagination isn’t a choice; it happens.

Yes, imagination has consequences. And yes, at times–often–they reach far beyond what we could, well… imagine. Yet, as Natalia Antonova continued: “ … this doesn’t make [imagination] any less beautiful in the grand scheme of things.” Beautiful and, I argue, necessary. Because if imagination has consequences, so too does lack of imagination–or more accurately, lack of a robust, rigorous, and faith-oriented imagination.

Right now, in May of 2025, it is terribly easy for us to go down endless alleys and rabbit holes and twisted paths of what ifs. Dystopian what ifs. Fearful what ifs. Apocalyptic what ifs. They’re terribly easy–the complete economic collapse what ifs, the registries of trans youth and pregnant persons what ifs, the deportation and concentration camps what ifs, the collection and misuse of personal, financial and medical data what ifs, the imposition of martial law what ifs, the end of American democracy what ifs. Easy because we’ve already been pulled onto those pathways, into those alleys and rabbit holes against our will; we only have to imagine the horrific deadends and rock bottoms, the implosions and explosions. What our faith and our future call us to imagine, however, are a whole different set of what ifs.

Not, what if increasing numbers of federal judges continue to hold the current administration to the rule of law. Not, what if more governors and universities stand up to demands, bullying and threats. Not, what if the Supreme Court decides to uphold the Constitution. Not, what if Republicans in Congress suddenly decide to retake the power that properly lies in their hands. Despite our desperate longing for these what ifs to come to fruition, they are not the ones our faith and our future call us to imagine because they are largely beyond our control.

The what ifs our faith and our future call us to imagine are the ones that we can imagine ourselves into as active participants. And the what ifs that challenge us to imagine now, what comes after the deadends, the rock bottoms, the implosions and the explosions.

What if we take a lesson from the anti-MAGA sweep of local elections across Texas early last week, and start (or continue) to put our effort and our dollars into school board elections and county commission elections, and state elections?

What if we emulate the cities of Boise, Idaho and Salt Lake City, Utah, each of which responded to state laws banning Pride flags and other “unofficial” flags from public property by adopting new city flags. In Salt Lake City that meant imposing the city’s traditional sego lily design, respectively over a pride flag, a trans flag and a Juneteenth commemoration flag. In Boise it meant adopting the Pride flag itself as a city flag. What if we, as individuals and communities and a congregation, found ways to fly flags signaling our commitment to pluralism, interdependence, justice and transformation, boldly and defiantly? Literal, physical, beautiful flags, yes–on our homes and other buildings, on our lapels and car bumpers–but mostly beautiful, transformational, metaphorical flags. Speaking up when an acquaintance, friend or family member speaks words of hate. Showing up when community members are targeted. Spending our dollars at businesses owned and run by members of the LGBTQIA, BIPOC, and immigrant communities.

What if, instead of rebuilding the safety nets and systems for delivering services that are currently being destroyed, in the same old footprints and according to the same old blueprints, we create stronger, more resilient and responsive, more humane and creative safety nets and service delivery systems? What if we imagine how health care and education and emergency relief and care for the vulnerable might take shape in a society that values all its members, that centers generosity, that recognizes the potential that is released to transform the world when no one is burdened unto death simply to survive? And what if we start building all that now, instead of waiting for the current systems to lie in rumble? Working today to elect public servants who are both visionary and pragmatic, and who are committed to working in partnerships and alliances across all lines of division? Finding our own places in public and private enterprises already working in creative ways to address society's most pressing needs?

If the current administration is determined to destroy the baseball, basketball and football of US democracy–the rules, laws, and established procedures, the traditions and institutions–and it is doing just that, if the majority of the lawmakers currently serving in Congress are willing to allow the administration to carry on without check, and they are doing just that, then what if we imagine the pig racing of US democracy rising up to take their place? Unexpected, exciting, free wheeling. Alliances between seeming adversaries. Quick and nimble responses to threats and crises.

I’m captivated by Vanessa Southern’s pondering that perhaps she came into being as a figment of Ella Fitzgerald’s imagination, by her wondering how then is she called best to live into that genesis. What if we, as individuals and as a congregation, came into being as the figments of some vast being’s imagination. What then? What are the consequences of our being imagined into being? How will we, to the best of our abilities, make them life-giving, rather than destructive?

What if some mysterious power or process that seeks to preserve the wholeness of all that is, called us into being to meet this very moment when so very much is being destroyed? What then? What are the consequences of our being called into existence to preserve and repair the brokenness of our world? How will we, to the best of our abilities, make them life-giving, rather than destructive?

And if we are neither the product of a vast being nor a mysterious power or process, but merely and magnificently that accident and result of evolution, what then? Where then will our imagination lead us in this moment poised between annihilation and regeneration?

What if we get to decide what tips the balance? What then? What now? Amen