Ep 07 | For King and Country!: The Mythic and Moral Imaginations
Education is not primarily a cognitive adventure, because born persons are not brains-on-sticks. Your children are primarily worshippers. So, the main influence within your child is their heart, which includes their cares, motivations, and desires. And how do you speak to a child’s heart? Through their imagination.
Episode Notes
Continuing Education Picks
‘Mythic Imagination, the Moral Imagination, and the Beauty of Scripture,’ Heidi White
Tending the Heart of Virtue: How Classic Stories Awaken a Child’s Moral Imagination, Vigen Guroian
‘The Integrated Imagination: Fantasy in the Real World,’ Andrew Peterson
Ep 60: Why Read Pagan Myths, The Literary Life Podcast
‘Myth Became Fact,’ C. S. Lewis
Classical Heavyweights
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READ THE TRANSCRIPT
I never thought I’d talk about dragons so much in motherhood. Sure, I figured I’d read a few stories that included dragons and, if a particular fancy to battle something struck a child, then yes, I’d have a proper reason to talk dragons.
But dragons kept popping up because I felt it my duty to help my kids see and understand the world as it truly is. I wanted them to know that we are pilgrims, far from our King and our Country, in the land of a terrible dragon who crouches outside of my door...and your door.
And, of course, it’s not only that a dragon crouches outside of our door, but we can all be rather dragon-y ourselves: we’re hot-tempered and selfish. We can set forests ablaze with our mouths. We’re prickly and sneaky and greedy. There’s a dragon inside too.
But my kids knew better than to think the story is only ever about the dragon. A dragon may break and twist and scare, but every heart knows that a dragon can’t win. That’s just not how the story goes. If there’s a dragon, there must be a hero.
And if there’s a hero, well, then there must be a love story.
So yes, dragon talk became a real thing around here. It seeped into our stories, our play, our discipline, our instruction, our imaginations—all of it. I really couldn’t think of a better way to show my kids God’s story at work around them and in them than to talk about it in the most reasonable of ways.
Just like God himself has done.
Because what did God say is his big plan?
To kill the dragon and get the girl.
_____
Have you ever noticed how little kids play? When left to their own, I’ve noticed my kids’ play typically falls into the same storyline: there’s a bad guy to fight, a home to protect, and the need for a princess dress.
I have boys and a girl in my home, so I see the masculine and feminine inclinations play out over and over in their games. Both parties respond to the danger of the enemy, plotting how best to end the dark and devious deeds of the bad guy. I know battle has begun when I hear stomping feet and “For Narnia!” shouted through my house one hundred times, and then I wait for news. They’re always victorious, and while my son is satisfied with the victory, my daughter will immediately begin planning the celebration ball with her prince.
Like I said at the top, if there’s a hero, then there must be a love story.
But this isn’t just something my kids do, this is the storyline for kids everywhere. It’s almost like it’s written on their hearts and etched into their imaginations.
Because this storyline is, after all, the story.
Have you ever paused to think about how much scripture calls to one’s imagination? Of course, scripture is theological and instructive and lays out doctrine, but it’s also...imaginative. Flip through God’s word to his people and you find prose and poetry, imagery and metaphor, parable and story. Scripture is shockingly imaginative by design, so one must wonder why God would talk to his people in this way. What does his use of the imagination tell us about being made in his image?
Well, that we, as born persons, have imaginations that ought to be formed by goodness for goodness. The imagination is a gift from God and is integral in how we make sense of the world and the story we live in. So, as home educators, it’s vital we understand the imagination...and how many we have.
Did you know we have two? Yep. The mythic and moral imaginations. Let’s dig in.
The mythic imagination is the part of the mind that interprets stories. It absorbs characters, images, and themes; and it connects them to stories we already know. It’s the part of the mind that tells you Frodo and Sam are heroes, not crazy people, for braving Mordor. You don’t have to analyze the pros and cons of their situation, you just know it to be true. Like your kids playing in the backyard, the idea of a true hero is etched inside of you because it echoes the True Story of Christ’s sacrifice. God’s story is the foundation of the mythic imagination, so we know, deep down, that a hero lays down his life for others.
The moral imagination is the part of the mind that sees goodness in the world. It comes alive and cheers when the hero slays a dragon or the prince saves the princess. It’s angered and recoils when a character cheats, lies, or harms another. The moral imagination is the part of you that hangs on through an entire story, through every trial and failing, waiting for the hero to finally destroy the enemy through sacrifice, courage, and love. It’s the part of you that keeps hoping for the light to overwhelm the dark, for good to triumph over evil.
What’s interesting about both the mythic and the moral imagination is that most of what our minds do when they encounter stories is done subconsciously. This isn’t a cognitive assessment of plot, theme, and archetypes. It’s far subtler, which means, for our kids, they’re learning to make sense of the world around them based on the stories nestled in their imaginations. So naturally, the more that their minds are steeped in scripture, the more anchored their imaginations become, and the more easily they can understand God’s world as their souls are being formed to the Great Storyteller.
Now, I titled this show “For King and Country” because that is the basic foundation for imagination: we have a king and a home, which require our allegiance and our love. Charlotte Mason said, ‘The essence of Christianity is loyalty to a person—Christ, our King.’ It’s a kingdom we’re learning of, looking to, and hoping for; but there is more than one kingdom vying for our children’s imaginations.
And if you had to guess: do you think a kingdom’s battle plan is facts and figures? Or might it run more affections and loyalties?
I know this is a classical education podcast, but education is not primarily a cognitive adventure. Your children are not brains on sticks; they’re not made to run on facts and figures. Your children are primarily worshippers. The main influence within your child is their heart, or their affective, noncognitive part, which includes their cares, motivations, and desires.
When we say, like Plato and St. Augustine, that the goal of education is to love what’s worth loving--namely truth, goodness, and beauty--this is why. You are formed by what you love most and what holds your loyalty.
And what you love most, you worship. And what you worship points to a kingdom.
So, education really boils down to showing your children Who is worthy of worship and to give them a clear picture of his kingdom. It’s about King and Country.
This is where the imagination comes into play. James K. A. Smith explains the imagination as more of a noncognitive understanding than cognitive knowledge. It’s not formed through explicit doctrine or theoretical terms but through images, stories, myths, and narratives. The imagination is something that grips us, and pulls us in the direction of what we understand as a ‘flourishing or good life.’ It is the central force in how we attend to the world and what we pursue in our worship or affections.
Because stories are all around us, your children’s imaginations are constantly filled with narrative---some true, some false. It’s the stories they repeatedly encounter that form the foundations of their imaginations and their picture of the good life.
Let’s get some examples going here.
If your child spends the majority of their time interacting with stories about being their deepest, truest self by abandoning their duties and responsibilities, dishonoring their parents, and chasing whatever sparks their joy in this moment, their picture of the good life is as small as their momentary happiness.
If your child is repeatedly told that having the newest technology, the hippest clothes, and the coolest friends is the vision of the good life, then they will chase it.
If your child is full of stories of courage and sacrifice, of denying oneself out of love for others, of the human condition and the grace of God, and the immeasurable joy in the pursuit of godliness, then their picture of the good life is a kingdom worth loving.
But, it needs to be said, that all children will encounter all of these stories at some point. That’s just how things go. But if their imaginations have been well-formed by true stories, they should be able to encounter any of those three stories and know which is a real picture of the good life and the good kingdom.
Is it starting to make sense then why God’s word is so imaginative? Why it draws out and shows the picture of the good life? Why we have a dragon and a hero and a love story?
These are the clues to how one forms an imagination. If you’ve listened to this podcast before, there’s a good chance you’ve heard me steal Sarah Clarkson’s phrase ‘storyformed.’ Her basic idea is that words make worlds, and we, as image bearers, are formed by stories—both the ones we read and the ones we tell ourselves about our lives. So it should be no surprise that in a classical education the literature chosen for your kids is of the utmost importance.
If an imagination sifts through the stories around us based on what stories anchor it, we need to offer our children the very best as the anchor.
Cue the fairytales, the myths, and the legends of old.
You see, stories are almost like magic. They can capture the fullness of morality through their descriptions of good and evil. They’re not didactic or explicitly instructive. Instead, they give the imagination meaning which shapes our understanding of how to love and act in our world. They speak directly to the affections and allow our growing vision of the good life to instruct our minds instead of the other way around.
When Charlotte Mason gets into the nitty gritty of instruction, whether that be for habit training or formal school, she insists that a child must first be given an inspiring idea. What we moderns have gotten wrong in education is that it’s not usually our minds that instruct our hearts but the other way around.
I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago and she mentioned that her son was ignoring most of what she said each day. Was it a lack of attention? Obedience? Awareness? Who knew! But when she was just about at her wit’s end, he walked past her reciting, from memory, a good portion of The Magician’s Nephew. She said she was shocked. I laughed and said Narnia is far more inspiring than a mother telling you what to do.
Because it is.
No one likes a rule. Everyone loves a story.
And Miss Mason understood this. She said that the only way a child is capable of large-hearted action on behalf of a person or cause is because that person or cause has filled the whole stage of the mind, even to where we forget ourselves. Give a child a compelling picture of the good life, of the kingdom to come, of the King and his country, and you gain a child’s imagination.
If you were over here for coffee, we could dive into the ails of modern education: the abandonment of virtue, the acceptance of values, the exultation of freedom above duty, the belief that children are brains on sticks.
But you’re not here, so let it suffice to say: there’s a reason why our countrymen are as they are these days. We say we want old world order virtue but we’ve made it impossible
There’s a reason we classicists read old books. It’s not that they’re perfect, but that they allow virtue to sparkle, for vice to be grotesque. Fairytales and myths and classic reads unmask those of us who read them and force us to consider who we want to be. They help us better understand our own world, integrating our love of the hero with our ordinary actions. They impress themselves upon our imagination and continue to reflect goodness in our minds long after we’ve read them. They both challenge our vision of the good life and satisfy our imaginations.
They echo the storyline we’ve always known and loved.
We need imagination in our education. We need to take it seriously and to cultivate it faithfully. The mythic and moral imaginations are gifts to our children that we can help grow.
To educate a whole child is to cultivate an imagination of wonder and beauty and goodness. When you snuggle up with your kids on the couch with a favorite book, you’re already shaping what they’ll know as the good life. Every stone you add to the foundation of their imaginations will become the story they chase, defend, and love. Give them stories of heroes who pursue goodness despite the difficulty and danger, of pilgrims who’ve plodded with joy across the dragon’s land and arrived at the celestial city with eyes bright and clear.
I think Miss Mason offers the best advice on how to bring children into allegiance to Christ, the King, by telling us how parents brought their children up in passionate loyalty and reverence for not too worthy princes in England:
She said, their own hearts were full of it; their lips spake it; their acts proclaimed it; the style of their clothes, the rings of their voices, the carriage of their heads---all was one proclamation of boundless devotion to their king and his cause.
Let’s be mothers who not only offer our children the stories to anchor their imaginations in goodness, but let’s be ones who live in such a way that our own imaginations spill over into a battle cry for truth, goodness, and beauty.
Or, to put it another way: Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.
For King and Country!
I’ll see you guys in two weeks.
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