Collegiate Times

John Lennon’s piano graced Blacksburg with its presence last week. The instrument, on which Lennon composed the song “Imagine”, has become a symbolic ambassador of peace visiting sites of tragedy with its message of hope and unity. The song’s haunting melody and lyrics flow out of a time when 1960’s revolution met the hard realities of Vietnam and the Cold War. In it, Lennon imagined a world without our traditional flashpoints for violence—a world without heaven, hell, religion, countries, and possessions. His popular refrain echoes with idealism: “You may say that I’m a dreamer / But I’m not the only one / I hope that someday you’ll join us / And the world will live as one”.     

To those whose historical knowledge is limited to the exploits of Forest Gump, you may remember Lennon discussing these ideas in response to Gump’s ping-pong trip to China. Lennon appears to be fleshing out the lyrics to the song and Gump inadvertently influences yet another historically significant event.

This song is indeed significant. The Beatles, as founding members of the rock revolution, speak an international musical language that has shaped our global mentality in a profound way. It would do us well to continue on this journey of imagination with John.
Imagine a world with no heaven, no hell, “just people living for today”. It would be a world without fanatics like Jim Jones, David Koresh, and the Heaven’s Gate Hale-Bopp Comet Cult whose intense focus on the next world rationalized their dangerous behavior and mass suicides. It is the assurance of heavenly reward that motivates the Jihadist to include so many unwilling participants in his attack. It is the fear of hell that keeps millions enslaved to abuse.

Imagine a world with no countries. In an age of global Internet and cell phone connectivity it’s even easier to imagine than when John tried. We’ve seen how patriotism can drive people to extreme acts of violence merely to support their flag and tear down someone else’s. Like Capulets and Montagues, Hatfields and McCoys, Sharks and Jets we’ve perpetuated long-standing feuds with unknown origins. The time for identifying ourselves as world citizens is at hand.

Imagine a world with no religion, a world where extremists do not wage war with one another over their beliefs. Imagine Jerusalem as a relaxing tourist destination.

And finally, imagine a world without possessions. That’s nine tenths of the law that we could immediately strike from the books. No more obsessions with material wealth and status, cars and houses, phones and mp3 players. No more copyright infringement or digital rights management on music and software!

There are many benefits to such an imaginary world, but unfortunately, the costs would be far greater. The song’s approach to pain is to separate us from both the problem and the solution. To the heartbroken, it comforts, “Your world has been hell, just imagine there’s no such thing.” To the one spared through the fire it reminds, “You survived by chance, thanking a god might cause conflict.” To the community assembling in the aftermath it warns, “Put down your colors and your anthem and your distinctiveness as a nation, Hokie or otherwise, and just get on with your business.” Without heaven, hell, religion, country, or possession, it’s not clear just what business we’d have left to do.

In a university setting, we live between the rims of a mixing bowl and a melting pot. We come to Virginia Tech from a diverse number of countries, colors, creeds, ethnicities, religions, ages, handicaps, socio-economic strata, genders, sexual orientations, dietary restrictions, body dimensions, body odors, body art compositions, and every other nuance of humanity. In the pursuit of unity, would it be better to leave all of it at the door? Should we simply pretend as if none of the above distinctions exist? Will Tech’s application someday have a single checkbox for human being?

Until that unlikely day comes, I imagine a world and campus where people passionately believe in heaven and hell in a way that motivates profound concern for the present life, where religion flows not just from heritage but from deep conviction and is peacefully discussed in theory and tried in practice, where nationality is an extension of family not an excuse for exclusion, and where possessions are not status symbols but tools wielded by those who have them for helping those who don’t. You may say that I’m a dreamer and I may be the only one, but I’m OK with that.