A tone-deaf tribute to a man of faith

The political message of “Imagine” may sound like honey in the ears of those who have enjoyed the fruits of private property, free(ish) markets, and countries with borders—who stream Lennon songs and post their socialist sentiments in relative safety on material devices they purchased and own in a free market. Perhaps they are imitating something of the cognitive dissonance of Lennon, who recorded his ode to a possession-free, boundaryless utopia from the comforts of his lavish home studio within his gated mansion at his expansive Tittenhurst Park estate. Elvis Costello famously lampooned the hypocrisy with a powerful question: “Was it a millionaire who said ‘Imagine no possessions’?”

More than a hundred million people over the last century cannot imagine a world with no possessions and no religion. Why not? Precisely because they lost their lives to “dreamers” who imagined and enforced a world without possessions or religion. Such ironies are all too often lost on the cultural elites, those who have made “Imagine” the official New York City New Year’s Eve countdown song every year at 11:55 p.m. since 2005.

Writing for Billboard, Stereo Williams describes “Imagine” as “an anthem for the clueless,” citing a YouTube cover recorded by A-list actors as a tone-deaf, kitschy, cringeworthy rally cry of hope to a world under COVID lockdowns. “It has become,” Williams observes, “a song all too often used to condescend in times of struggle, especially when it’s being used by major corporations or Hollywood celebrities whose very careers are predicated on so many things the song supposedly asks us to consider a world without.”

For many, “Imagine” has become what its co-producer, Phil Spector, always thought of as, namely, a “national anthem,” but surely not the kind of anthem embraced by most of the country. Timothy and Elizabeth Bracy of Stereogum see it as “a tune that everyone can sing along with, even as many can’t believe the trite silliness of the lyrics in question.” It was sociologist Peter Berger who famously quipped that America is a nation of Indians (referring to India as the world’s most religious country) ruled by Swedes (with Sweden being the least religious). Indeed, the “Swedes” who produce Olympic spectacles, awards shows, national celebrations—and, now, state funerals for departed presidents—can happily sing with Lennon, “Imagine there’s no heaven. … Above us only sky,” and think that they have sung something profound and inspirational.

Carter did know a far more realistic hope than that offered by John and Yoko. Upon learning that doctors had found four kinds of cancer in his brain, the former president shared his personal “attitude toward death” with his Sunday school class:

“I found that I was absolutely and completely at ease with death. It didn’t really matter to me whether I lived or died. … I have since that time been absolutely confident that my Christian faith includes complete confidence in life after death. So, I’m going to live again. … I have confidence that there is a God, that He’s all-powerful, that He keeps his promises, that He’s promised us life after death. And also, I’m a Christian, and I believe that Jesus Christ, having been raised from the dead … and told us that we could also be raised from the dead.”

Carter closed his comments with an extremely interesting word choice: “So, that’s what I’ve gone through in my imagining life after death.” The late president voiced a far better imagining than the kind platformed at his funeral. Rather than the honey-coated, political imagining that lulls us with soothing chords to believe, contrary to the hellish evidence, that a godless heaven on earth is within our collective reach, Carter had something far better. He had, in his own words, “complete confidence” because Jesus was “raised from the dead.”

Since Jesus rose bodily, not in a wishful dream but in real-time space and history, we do not merely have to imagine a better world. That’s a belief Jimmy Carter shared with a majority of Americans.