Following Socratesfor one is rewarded with a rich resource for contemplating the
indissoluble, endlessly perplexing issues that lie behind the
big questions which fi re the human and, I would argue, philo-
sophical imagination – those that revolve around the ‘why’ of
existence.
Plato’s response to Socrates was to set up a philosophy school.
It turned principles into practices, to cultivate a way of life that
looked beyond what could be simply settled. Some of those
exercises are perfectly doable today. There is no reason why aca-
demic philosophy should not be a way to experience thought as
well has have it. The right course could even provide space for
the contemplation of death. Similarly, silence is to be found in
some churches and retreats – where I suspect it is actually not
that rare to fi nd yourself sitting next to a wondering scientist.
It is the religious imagination that most successfully brings
together the elements necessary for an agnostic ethos: ratio-
nal rigour – exemplifi ed by Aquinas and the mystical theolo-
gians; intellectual commonsense – for the wisdom that alerts
one to the wilder fantasies of scientism; heart and mind – for
a philosophy that can become a way of life. For me, now, the
importance of the religious imagination is that it broadens
out what could otherwise be a purely sceptical intellectualism.
It adds fl esh to the bones, and suggests far more than just an
argument. It is manifest in the attitude that sees new discover-
ies and theories as expressions of what is still not known, rather
than as some kind of human triumph. It shows up in the atti-
tude that sees the goal of the quest as a falling into silence – a
contemplation full of texture and colour that is born of the
struggle to appreciate the extent of the unknown, which may
be called God.