Pluralism and a Spirituality of the (Im)possible

Abstract

The relationship between pluralism and spirituality is explored in the context of a specific understanding of humanism, developed by the political philosopher William Connolly. He uses the term ‘entangled humanism’ to express his ecological view on how humans relate to other forms of being, stressing the need for an attitude of partnership and care in the face of ecological crisis. To realize this non-anthropocentric form of humanism, we need our creativity and imagination, and a spiritual affinity characterized by openness and a commitment to shared goals. According to Connolly, we need a deep pluralism in which people are ready to defend their creed in public while realizing a productive ethos of political engagement with others of different convictions. We need to find one another in imaginative ideas and creative actions with regard to problems that confront us all and that are so urgent as to force us to collective action. According to Connolly, in working together, a connecting spiritual affinity can emerge. This view is elaborated upon with the help of John Dewey’s notions of moral imagination and religious trust, understood here as key elements of an entangled humanism. The article closes by describing a spirituality of the (im)possible that can be a source of inspiration for an entangled humanism that really makes a difference in our complex but rich world.

1. Introduction

In this article1, I will address the question of pluralism and spirituality in the context of ‘entangled humanism.’ Entangled humanism is the term the political philosopher William Connolly uses to analyze urgent societal issues and the questions these raise with regard to contemporary humanism. According to Connolly, in our challenging times—especially with regard to ecological questions—we need new ways of thinking about how humans relate to other forms of being. He proposes a paradigm shift in which the dominant modern view of autonomous subjects that can control a passive object world is challenged. We need to interchange this view for the ecological view of humans in relations of interdependence with fellow beings that have an inherent value. Much is at stake here. According to Connolly, we live in a ‘bumpy universe’ in which not just human forces are at work. Yet, in the face of ecological crises, humans do have to acknowledge their qualities and responsibilities. The attitude of control and manipulation needs to make way for an attitude of partnership and care. For this, Connolly argues, we need our qualities of creativity, imagination and a spiritual affinity characterized by openness and commitment to shared goals.

In my article, I address two central questions. The first question relates to the need for collaboration to contribute to planetary health. We witness how polarization and (religious) conflict are counterproductive in coming to collective action. Thus, the question is what pluralism—understood in a normative sense—can mean in the context of an entangled humanism that takes responsibility for the fragile life conditions on earth. In plural societies, groups that differ from one another in the domains of worldview, ethnical identification, sexual affinity, etc., will have to work together to counterbalance antagonism (Alma 2021b). William Connolly argues that people who share a common goal, can find an ‘affinity of spirituality’ despite differences in convictions. Connolly is not very explicit about this notion, but his view is much in line with what John Dewey calls ‘a common faith’ and moral imagination. To gain insight into the relationship between cooperation and spirituality, I describe Dewey’s view on moral imagination in relation to pluralism and spirituality. This brings me to my second question: how can spirituality be conceived of in the context of entangled humanism? In societies that know a diversity of both secular and religious worldviews, it cannot be taken for granted that people find the shared spiritual affinity needed for the ecological approach Connolly argues for. I describe a ‘spirituality of the (im)possible’ that may inspire people personally and invite them to sustainable modes of living. Basically, my article is about our ways of perceiving, and the ways we look at one another and at the world around us. I make a plea for an attentive, imaginative way of looking that allows us to overcome self-centredness and build strong connections with human and nonhuman beings.

2. Entangled Humanism

William Connolly stresses that we are part of a ‘world of becoming’ (Connolly 2011). We cannot know and predict our world with absolute certainty: it is a place of radical contingency. The world changes continuously in ways we can control to a certain extent, but for the largest part, these changes exceed our powers. At all levels of existence—from the micro-level of bacteria to the macro-level of climate patterns—complex processes are at work so that something really new can emerge. New in the sense that we could not have predicted it with a mechanical view on causality. How do we cope with the creative forces that are operating at different levels in our world, and how can we deal with the constructive and destructive potentials of these forces? Connolly argues that we should leave dangerous illusions and acts of control and dominance behind us as they reduce our chances of survival. We need an ecological approach that is based on the fundamental interdependence between humans and their fellow beings. When we open ourselves to these relationships, we can feel invited to participate in processes that strengthen sustainable ways of living. In times of ecological crisis, much depends on how we answer to that invitation. Often, we seem indifferent as to how we treat our environment, and we can be dismissive of a world we experience as threatening. We may choose, however, to contribute to constructive potentials in our world, thus answering in an affirmative way. Affirmation can be witnessed where people invest in working together with regard to shared concerns, whether it is the greening of their neighborhood or global activism to fight climate change.

The way we answer to being invited by what we relate to in life, makes a difference in an ethical sense. Connolly’s plea for an entangled humanism that relies on human capacities and creativity without falling into feelings of superiority, is rooted in a concern for societal problems such as racism, social injustice and climate change. Only by collaborating—inspired by shared concerns and by what connects us to one another—can we face the enormous challenges we are confronted with. As human beings, we have our specific qualities and responsibilities in taking up efforts for transformation.

However, denial, indifference and dismissiveness may take dangerous forms. In the current situation of existential stress, as people become aware of the vulnerable place of human life in the cosmos, they may look for strong leaders and other repressive patterns of power (Connolly 2017). For this reason, democrats, pluralists, egalitarians, eco-movements and other criticists of totalitarian claims to power must find new sources of inspiration in ‘countertraditions’ as they can be found in, for example, Judaism and Christianity. Connolly refers to minor traditions that offer new perspectives on power and sovereignty and mentions the work of Spinoza and process theology as examples. Building on these countertraditions, new forms of engagement can be explored that give people a new sense of attachment to the world while remaining open to diversity and change.

3. Pluralism in the Context of Entangled Humanism

In our late modern societies, the religious landscape is super-diverse (Vertovec 2007). According to Connolly, to live peacefully together under these circumstances, we need a pluralism that is characterized by both attachment and openness. On the one hand, we need the clarity of a worldview position we can be attached to because we feel at home with it. On the other hand, we must be able to open ourselves to other traditions that we may experience as unknown or even strange. Connolly makes it clear how difficult it is to realize this openness because we have lost a safe feeling of being at home in our world. Our need for existential attachment is at stake.

Historically, it has never been easy to satisfy this need and the late modern era brings its specific challenges. One of these challenges is the situation that each of us, seen as an autonomous individual, is expected to choose between very different worldviews and religious positions. This diversity clothes worldview convictions in a sense of relativity and makes it difficult to attach oneself to any of them. Each perspective on what is good and meaningful has become one option amongst many. The global dynamics of migration and the power of social media make it inevitable that ‘repertoires of belief’ meet, challenge and confront one another. This situation can lead to feelings of estrangement and saps our belief in the world. Against this backdrop, Connolly stresses the importance of an explicit search for and dialogues about our existential sources of meaning and value. The quality of our democracies depends on these endeavors. Democracy is based on the force of dialogues about what constitutes the ‘good’, characterized by agonistic respect and by people with different backgrounds collaborating in tackling urgent societal and ecological problems (See also Dewey [1927] 1954; Mouffe 2013; Sandel 2006; Tröhler 2000).

Secular societies have their own problems in dealing constructively with worldview diversity. ‘Neutrality’ of the secular state guarantees individual freedom and equal rights for all religious organizations. This is of huge importance for living together peacefully. Yet, every society is built on assumptions and normative notions regarding what is desirable and worth pursuing. In western societies, economic considerations and the belief in market forces are the main decisive factors, even in such value-driven domains as healthcare and education. In this situation, ‘neutrality’ often means that basic economic impulses that determine the design of our societies are not thought through critically. Economic considerations that are decisive for political choices are taken for granted. People recognize insufficiently that these considerations and choices are rooted in a dominant neoliberal worldview. Because economic arguments are presented as scientifically based and worldview neutral, there is no reflection on their ethical and existential implications. The discomfort that characterizes secular societies when it comes to fundamental discussions about life and living together, easily results in people withdrawing in minority groups with their own truths (see Sandel 2006; Heijne 2017). A good example are the ‘social media bubbles’, with algorithms taking care of being confirmed in one’s own opinions. Instead of conversations with dissenters, this leads to course expressions of incomprehension.

Pluralism is understood by Connolly in a normative sense—he uses the notion deep pluralism to make this clear:

By deep pluralism, I mean the readiness to defend your creed in public while acknowledging that it so far lacks the power to confirm itself so authoritatively that all reasonable people should embrace it. By multidimensional pluralism, I mean a political culture in which differences of creed, ethnicity, age, first language, gender practice, and sensual affiliation find expression in a productive ethos of political engagement between participants (Connolly 2011, p. 83).

Deep pluralism implies an acknowledgement of diversity and stimulates a public debate in which different visions on the good life are expressed (Suransky and Alma 2018). This presupposes that people are able to articulate their visions. Basic requirements for pluralism are that we can articulate what matters most to us, that we can defend it in dialogue with others and that we are always open to the possibility that we can learn from other visions (see Taylor 2016). Meeting these requirements is far from easy. Articulation of our image of the good life means giving expression to what we usually take for granted. Images of the good are very influential with regard to our choices, but they usually work in implicit ways. Of course, we have explicit and written rules, regulations and laws, but social life is highly influenced by implicit images, anticipations, aspirations and ideals. The philosopher Charles Taylor uses the term ‘social imaginaries’ for these implicit incentives directing our societies (Taylor 2004). However, Taylor stresses the importance of explicit articulation that allows us to critically reflect on our imaginaries, possibly resulting in social change.

We find a similar plea in the work of Connolly. The ways in which we act and relate to others are strongly influenced by our convictions concerning the good life—whether these are religious or not. We can only deepen our relationships with others when we articulate our convictions, thus allowing for empathy from both sides. Only by articulating what we believe in, can we explore what deserves to be cultivated, or what needs to be adjusted or even rejected. Worldview pluralism does not mean giving up our own imaginaries of the good life. Both recognition of what we believe in and openness to change are of crucial importance in a world in which connections are easily lost and resentment with regard to the ways of living of others is easily evoked.

We face the challenge to reconcile ourselves with our late modern existence—characterized by individual choices and existential uncertainty—to develop a positive attachment to life. Simply put: how can we say ‘yes’ to a world in which we do not feel at ease? Existential confirmation cannot be taken for granted. For many people, institutional worldviews no longer have the power to give them a feeling of security. Resulting feelings of insecurity can lead to resentment. Even in these conditions, however, Connolly sees possibilities to fight negativity with the help of imaginative ideas and creative actions. Worldview traditions cannot provide us with definite answers, but this does not mean that we are without cultural sources. Films, novels and other forms of art, and also theological and philosophical texts, are sources that can help us cope with experiences of dissonance and uncertainty. With the help of such sources, we can learn to accept that our convictions are open to discussion and that others hold different views. We may even discover that dialogue between separate worldview traditions can open new perspectives and can enrich our lives with new ways to perceive the world. In my opinion, this should be an important goal in the education of both young people and adults.

(Entangled) humanism, with its strong Renaissance tradition of tolerance, respect and dialogue, and its strong Enlightenment tradition of critical enquiry, can play an important role in strengthening interworldview exchange and in rethinking the role of worldviews in secular societies. Without neglecting its own social imaginaries of the good life, humanism can facilitate new, pluralistic political and social alliances that revitalize our democracies. With its positive view on human capabilities, humanism can help fight negativity and resentment with the help of imaginative ideas and creative actions. Entangled humanism needs to make use of the power of imagination to stimulate social changes that give voice to people (and other lifeforms) that are marginalized in our modern democracies. Apart from the need to fight injustice, the question arises what humanism can offer to break through stuck patterns. No matter the importance of rational arguments and scientific evidence to support this struggle, they do not suffice to invigorate people to take up transformative action. Only imaginaries that move people at a deeper level and show in a convincing way that alternatives can be realized, have transformative potential. Humanism has little tradition of rituals and symbolic language that can be put to work. Historically, however, it does acknowledge the strength of literature and art in stimulating the moral imagination. The way this might work is explained in the next section with the help of a model based on John Dewey’s philosophy (Dewey [1934] 1980). I present it using a work of art as an example.

4. Imagination

The Australian artist Guido van Helten paints portraits of people on the walls of public buildings, thus giving a ‘face’ to, for example, a house or overpass. One of his paintings shows the face of an elderly person on the wall of a demolition building in Ireland. In teaching master’s courses on spiritual care at the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, I often use a photograph of this building with the painted wall in a ragged environment to make my students aware of how they perceive the world. When they look at the image attentively, there is a lot to be seen: the face of the man or woman on the wall, the grey color of the image as a whole or the blue patches in the air, the gloomy appearance of the scene or the green vegetation that emerges in unexpected places. It is worthwhile taking time to perceive a photograph, painting or other piece of art and to explore it with others, who look at things in different ways. We may become aware of our associations based on earlier experiences, on the knowledge we possess, or on our cultural or religious frameworks. When we look at something, the meaning we attach to it is rooted in what we have learned about the world during our entire life.

During training on interfaith spiritual care in which I worked with this photograph of the painting of Guido van Helten, a viewer associated the face of the person on the wall with that of Christ. Immediately, this association was taken over by another participant who saw a cross in the woodwork on the wall, and blood in the red patches of paint on the wall. Other participants had totally different associations, depending on what demolition, the face of an old person and the total atmosphere of the scene meant for them in the context of their own biography and worldview.

Such singular associations can reduce our openness for other ways of looking; they can hold us captive in limiting patterns. This need not be the case, however, when we dare experiment with perspectives and the associative ideas our perceptions evoke. Especially when we enter into dialogue with others who have different backgrounds, traditions and worldviews, we can come to understand our situation from various perspectives. In this case, when looking at the painting of Guido van Helten, different meanings can be evoked. In a way, the painting not only gives a face but also a voice to the weathered wall. Perhaps we feel invited to ask questions and react ourselves to the painted person with whom we can now connect. Working with art in this way—attentive, open to associations and experiment—can be a powerful way to explore our own ways of perceiving and the influence of our convictions and values on giving meaning. This exploration of conviction and values in dialogue with others can lead to a clearer view on what we hold to be ‘good’. This helps us to make an image of how to realize something we value.

New ways of looking opens vistas for other ways of acting because we can visualize where we want to go and what we must do to reach this purpose. This is a form of anticipation: the image of a goal as possible and as realizable. Imagination allows us to articulate an anticipation in language or in a concrete action. Such an expression enables us to share our anticipations with others and to evaluate them critically, again from different perspectives. Do these expressions follow from our anticipation and from the richness of the situation we perceived attentively? What are the consequences of our actions for other people involved? In this way, we come full circle in a ‘cycle of imagination’ that started with attention, followed by the steps of association, experiment, anticipation and expression to end in reflection. In fact, reflection asks for attentive perception, thus starting a new cycle of imagination. Imagination has no end point: in every situation something new can be discovered. The cycle of imagination can be used in teaching or training situations as a tool to practice our imagination. It allows us to perceive more intensely than we usually do in the routines of everyday life and helps us to break through patterns and habits we have come to take for granted. It enables us to explore ways of transformation together (Alma 2020). However, the cycle can also be used to come to transformative action in situations that urgently ask for change; for example, to create awareness about sustainability in our local community. It allows for attentive listening to everything that is at stake in the situation, for the exchange of what really matters to the people involved, for an exploration of the diverse perspectives that can be brought to the issue, for an anticipation of what is needed in this case and for deciding on a thoughtful course of action.

According to John Dewey, the imagination is at work when new possibilities are discovered in the world against the backdrop of earlier experiences and traditions. These new possibilities may seem strange at first, but actually they belong to the potentials of the situation. What was old and trusted is experienced as new, and what was far and strange becomes more familiar. This helps us to imagine the impact of changes in our own life or on the level of society (Dewey [1934] 1980). Only when we have an image of what a new situation will look like, are we prepared to change our behavior. From this perspective, revolutions never come out of the blue. They are preceded by a process in which people anticipate a changed reality, and only when this image has become credible and achievable, will they come in motion. For every social change, for example, the socio-ecological transitions that have become urgent, such a process is necessary (Taylor 1989).

Furthermore, the imagination makes it possible to mentally practice new behavior instead of having to rely on trial-and-error. Through theater, film and stories of other people, we are given the chance to experiment mentally with possibilities of action in a ‘dramatic rehearsal’ (Dewey [1925] 1981). Although such an imaginative process is characterized by an element of play, it is not without consequences: playful exploration has moral power as well. It influences our way of handling our environment, by making us familiar with what was strange formerly. Due to the imagination, we can take the perspective of others and understand their wishes and purposes, and their needs and modes of reaction. The imagination helps us to connect to one another. According to Dewey, this may lead to a commitment and engagement with religious quality.

5. Religious Experience

Dewey uses the term ‘religious’ in a specific way. He discusses this term most elaborately in his book A common faith (Dewey 1934; Alma 2009; Rockefeller 1991). In his view, religious means an attitude that can be taken with regard to every object, ideal or goal. The term denotes a quality that can be found in an aesthetic experience, or in an experience of, e.g., friendship. An experience has a religious quality or power when it leads to a richer, fuller or more integrated way of living. What is important is what the experience does, not what it is caused by. Dewey follows the empirical criterion William James uses with respect to religion: ‘By their fruits ye shall know them, not by their roots’ (James [1902] 1961, p. 34). These kinds of experiences are not as rare as is often thought. They occur at significant moments in life and manifest themselves as an engagement with someone’s social and physical environment. An awareness of deep values is evoked that can help the person to cope with periods of darkness and despair. A sense of harmony within the person and in relation to his environment may be experienced when the person can be receptive to the sense of wholeness the experience evokes.

This sense of wholeness is not a measurable fact but an imaginative reality. Analytical perception and reflection can never lead to such an experience. Wholeness is an ideal, an imaginative projection. It depends on trust or belief: religious trust is an important concept in Dewey’s thinking and it comes close to the attachment and spiritual affinity William Connolly holds to be of crucial importance for engagement with a world of becoming. In Dewey’s view, religious trust opens perspective and durability in the fragmentary, volatile moments of our existence. Religious belief denotes the unification of the self by committing oneself to encompassing ideals, conveyed by the imagination and acknowledged as being worthy of guiding one’s choices. In this respect, Dewey clarifies his use of the concept imagination: the imagination brings us into contact with that which is not yet realized but that touches and activates us all the same. Ideals are no illusions but are powerfully at work in our actions. An experience acquires religious quality when it evokes an ideal that guides a person in relating to himself and to the world, thus bringing unity in the fragmentary elements of daily life.

Religious quality as understood by Dewey is independent of religion in a traditional or institutional sense. According to him, institutional religion hinders the transformative power of religious experience. It withdraws energy from realizing ideal values by focusing this energy on the worship of a supernatural power. He criticizes traditional religions for presenting the unity people long for as something that already exists in another reality, to be reached by those that believe in doctrines and act according to the rules of their creed. In this way, they withdraw energy from committing ourselves to ideals with unifying power when people work together to realize them. People can have intense experiences of unity and wholeness—Dewey articulates his own mystical experiences in his poetry—but these do not refer to a supernatural reality and must not result in the passive feeling that unity already exists somewhere. These experiences refer to unification and can strengthen our endeavors to realize ideals in our daily actions. They are manifestations of an imagination that influences the world thoroughly. In the midst of the evil and suffering people are confronted with, they can imagine possibilities that are not yet realized but that can be understood as the hidden potentials of our reality.

The experience of connectedness and a deep awareness of destination can only occur in interaction with our environment. This interaction is also important to critically reflect on our experiences and resulting convictions. We have no guarantee that our ideals are worthwhile unless we bring them up for discussion. Religious trust is closely related to our striving for the good, but according to Dewey, there are no absolute values that determine what is ‘good’. No matter how important unification and healing are in Dewey’s notion of the religious, his work anticipates Connolly’s judgment that nothing is absolutely given. However, Dewey is positive—possibly more positive than Connolly—about human capacities for critical reflection and intelligent adjustment. With our imagination and intelligence as moral guidance, disorder, cruelty and oppression that are the realities of our world, can be reduced (Dewey 1934, p. 47).

Dewey’s view on religious trust holds a promise in the super-diverse religious landscape I mentioned earlier. We saw that Connolly stressed the need for existential attachment to be able to live peacefully together with our fellow (human) beings. Yet he relates worldview diversity to the loss of a safe feeling of being at home in our world, and sees the need for a spiritual affinity that connects people in their endeavors. To address the concern he raises, I explore how spirituality can be conceived of in the context of an entangled humanism that can inspire both secular and religious people.

6. Spirituality of the (Im)possible

The religious trust Dewey grants such importance in the realization of societal reform seems to be similar to the shared spiritual affinity that, according to Connolly, can inspire people with different creeds to collaborate in transformative action. One of the similarities is that neither religious trust in the sense of Dewey, nor spirituality in the sense of Connolly are related to a supernatural reality. Religious trust and spirituality are about the quality of our experiences that can be so intense as to help us transcend self-centredness and complacency (see Freeman 2014). According to Connolly, this is the core of transcendence: the intensification of daily experience. Transcendence does not refer to extraordinary experiences but to the experience of, e.g., friendship or cooperation in ways that lift us out of routine and rut.

Religious traditions have developed ways to stimulate such an intensification of experience, e.g., by performing rituals. In what way can we make the insights and practices that are developed in these traditions relevant for late modern people that feel no longer connected to them? Intensification of our daily experience opens a new perspective on our shared reality and can encourage us to bridge polarizing differences. Exactly by functioning in this bridging way, spirituality can contribute to a pluralism that enlarges the democratic qualities of our societies.

Adding to the views of Dewey and Connolly, I want to give substance to what I refer to as a spirituality of the (im)possible. My choice to connect spirituality to the term (im)possible needs to be clarified. In the life of every person, smaller or bigger events occur that relate to the impossible: not being able to finish your studies, not having the money to buy your dream house, the unreachable loved one, the unfulfilled wish for children, the inevitability of death in the terminal phase of an illness. A spirituality of the (im)possible accepts these impossibilities of our existence, and assumes nevertheless that something can light up that makes them bearable. It gives space to hope for what has value and gives consolation even in this situation—even if only for a moment on which one can fall back later on. It is a spirituality of ‘and yet’, of finding wholeness in the midst of brokenness, of seeing value in what is far from perfect. However, ‘impossible’ involves more than the inexorable boundaries we are confronted with in life. It also involves what lies beyond those boundaries, that which we cannot know and understand, and that we can all the same presume. A spirituality of the (im)possible is colored by the ‘what if’ that opens us to the possibility of what we cannot imagine but is, all the same, evoked by the look of another person, the beauty in nature or art, or the shock of a disruptive experience.

In what I refer to as spirituality of the (im)possible, I put the ‘im’ between brackets. This form of spirituality enters the hidden domain where the possible and the impossible meet one another, where we can open up to what hits us unpredictably and unexpectedly as a possibility of existence. The ‘possible’ does not so much refer to the concrete possibilities from which we can choose in a given situation. It refers to the possible as such, to the acknowledgement of the fundamental openness of our existence, and to what Connolly refers to as radical contingency. The possible symbolizes the idea that the world is in the end unpredictable and changeable. A spirituality of the (im)possible does not give us definite answers with regard to an absolute truth and concomitant ways of life. However, it allows us to experience meaning and value in the midst of uncertainty.

Fundamental openness can overwhelm and discourage us; it can lead to existential despair. However, we are equipped with a specific capacity to find inspiring perspectives that give us a hold in coping with openness and indeterminacy. Our imagination enables us to make images of the good with relevance for our personal existence. We can compare this to the way an artist sees the potential of an empty space and creates forms to realize one of these possibilities. In a similar way, we can ‘translate’ our experience of the possible as such to a concrete form or action that can be realized in the specific situation in which we find ourselves.

To put this into practice in situations of, for example, communities that fight against environmental injustice, they can make use of the cycle of imagination discussed before. It allows for a personal or collective spiritual practice in the face of urgent concerns and worldview diversity. Taking the steps of attention, association, experiment and anticipation can lead to an intensification of experience that is healing and transcends individual convictions. Despite differences in creed, in going through the cycle together, we can experience a wholeness that has religious quality. The steps of expression and reflection capacitate us to connect this experience with daily life, by taking action and deepening our insight in what is at stake. The cycle of imagination can help us to come to a realistic anticipation of what is possible, e.g., a new opening in a relation that seemed to be stuck. Through this anticipation of something that can be realized and understood within the context of our personal existence, the imagination translates the fundamental dimension of the possible as such into an image that is meaningful in our daily lives. This is not restricted to a mental image of a moral and spiritual ideal. Spirituality is closely related to transformative action that builds on the deepened understanding of reality.

Spirituality of the (im)possible indicates a creativity that reaches further than we think possible. For deep down, this is what spirituality is about: every appearance in our daily lives is a potential entrance to what is more than and different from what we can grasp with our concepts and theories. Spirituality, however, has nothing to do with vagueness or magnificence. Spirituality of the (im)possible means a transformation to life affirmation or existential confirmation. Due to this transformation we perceive differently, we can see meaning and value in what surrounds us, even if we treated it unconcernedly formerly. To explain what this can mean for personal spirituality, I like to use the example of the blossom tree by the side of the road I take to the railway station. I often pass it without taking notice as I hurry to my train. However, once, I was grasped by its beauty and came to a halt both literally and figuratively. It was an experience of stillness and life affirmation. Yet, saying ’yes’ to life may also mean: acceptance of what is inevitable or resistance to what threatens life and appears as evil. Spirituality of the (im)possible means learning to expose ourselves to all those manifestations of reality and to answer in an appropriate way, distinguishing critically whether something is beneficial or subversive, constructive or destructive, loving or loveless (Duintjer 2002, p. 37).

I agree with Connolly that ‘entangled humanism’ has need of such a spirituality in its endeavors to offer meaningful answers to societal questions that are often related to the ecological crisis. Only when we humans come to understand ourselves fundamentally different in relation to other forms of being—as ‘earthlings’ instead of the measure of things—and when we discover a new spirituality that meets our longing for meaning and healing, will we be willing and able to act transformatively. Messages of doom may depress us or lead to indifference. We need to be touched and encouraged at the level of trust and belief to come to action. Without the energy of religious trust that has empowered generations of people, we will not be able to face the challenges of our time. Of course, we need science and technology, but these must be connected to the vital force of a moral and spiritual ideal that invites people to work closely together despite differences.

7. Concluding Remarks

I started this article with the question how humanism and pluralism are connected. More specifically, I was interested in the question whether people can engage with humanism as a worldview without taking human superiority for granted. In terms of Connolly, this presupposes both attachment and openness. For me, these are the characteristics of a worldview pluralism that is based on articulation of our social imaginaries of the good. Articulation allows us to enter into dialogue with others in an atmosphere of agonistic respect. We need to find one another in imaginative ideas and creative actions with regard to problems that confront us all and that are so urgent as to force us to collective action. According to Connolly, in working together, a connecting spiritual affinity can emerge. This insight gave rise to the question whether spirituality is relevant for an entangled humanism. I studied this with the help of the philosophy of religion of the humanist John Dewey, for whom religious trust is connected to the moral and spiritual power of societal ideals. Transformative social action asks for an awareness of human beings working as partners in the larger whole of earthly life. Feeling part of this greater whole results in an attitude of awe and respect for the good we strive for. Such an attitude is in fact a way of confirming existence, in full consciousness of what threatens that existence. This is the core of what I refer to as entangled humanism.

We live in a world of becoming that can be inviting but also repulsive or even hostile. It takes courage to say ‘yes’ to a capricious world. This courage can be derived from our imaginative capacity to make images of the good (social) life. With the help of this capacity, entangled humanism stimulates dialogues about our imaginaries of the good and explores how these can be realized. The cycle of imagination I presented in this article, shows how this can be achieved. It can help us to find a shared spiritual affinity because the imagination allows us to come to terms with the indeterminate possible as such. The steps of attention, association, experiment, anticipation, expression and reflection offer a way of practicing personal or collective spirituality in which social imaginaries of the good are articulated and explored for their transformative potential. This gives rise to religious trust that energizes and empowers people to social action. I have described a spirituality of the (im)possible that can be a source of inspiration for an entangled humanism that really makes a difference in our complex but rich world. It can motivate us in our practical endeavors to realize social changes through inclusive cooperation. Thus, it is an effective counterforce against the polarization of thinking in terms of us–them. Furthermore, it offers us intense experiences of being part of a larger whole, of being ‘earthlings’ who are entangled in mutual relationships of dependence with other forms of being. Such experiences give ground to attachment and life affirmation, and to our lasting longing for the good.