Imitation in the Moral Life

Men are creatures not only of habit but also of imitation. The universal appeal of the fine arts—arts which are at heart arts of imitation—is proof of this. The joy of gazing on a good painting comes from our love of imitation and not simply from the beauty of the scene presented. Were this not […]

Imitation in the Moral Life

Men are creatures not only of habit but also of imitation. The universal appeal of the fine arts—arts which are at heart arts of imitation—is proof of this.

The joy of gazing on a good painting comes from our love of imitation and not simply from the beauty of the scene presented. Were this not the case, we could never enjoy a painting of a battle or a tragic play. Yet we revel in the recreation of a tragic death by the painter’s brush or the writer’s words because we are imitative creatures, and they are imitations.

The artist himself revels in the act of imitation, in his own ability to bring forth from mere paint or piano keys realities which the banality of everyday life obscures. Imitation is a divine thing, the closest we can come to God’s own act of creation. The very act of creating an imitation is itself imitating God. He creates things both true and beautiful, and He has blessed us with the power of doing a similar thing, of drawing forth the truth and beauty from places where it is unclear to us.

Art, however, is not the only place in our lives where imitation is of great importance. Imitation is an invaluable part of any practical learning. Children first begin to write by tracing over pictures of letters. A wrestler learns new techniques by seeing them performed. A writer will only become great by reading great literature and great essays. Most importantly, a man becomes virtuous not only by being told what virtue is, but also by seeing it practiced (and practicing it himself).

In this last example lies the importance of imitation in the moral life. Virtue, like any other craft, can be divided in two, into learning and doing. Since the latter of these is difficult enough for any of us, even the best (and sadly most of us are not the best) ought to make the former as easy as possible. There is little sense in relying too much on abstract principles as guides when another far simpler means is readily available in a history book or a laptop and an internet connection.

Which is more effective, to say “be charitable” or to say “be like Christ when He healed the leper?” Using only abstractions allows for excuses and rationalizations to pass through more frequently. Abstractions allow for misunderstandings and easy dismissal. Bringing the lesson into the concrete through examples worthy of imitation, however, call attention to the specific virtue through action—an action which can and ought to be imitates in one’s own life to develop that virtue (in some comparable way). And yet, this specificity brings conviction. Sometimes we’d prefer not to hold up the standards of virtue, since they may make our failings all too clear.

But the sight of a good man need not make us fear. It can be an aid not only to the understanding, but also to the will. If at first glance the site of a good man terrifies, it may at second glance comfort, for if he could act well then so can we! The saints were men like us. Here then is the second use of imitation: as an inspiration. If ever we feel discouraged on our long journey, we need but look to those who went before us, walking on the same difficult path upon which we now stumble, to take heart. Do not cast aside this help which the pages of both Scripture and history offer.

There is yet another use to reading the lives of great men. They not only make clear what was obscure and give us heart when we wonder whether our goals may really be achieved, but they can also ignite in our hearts the fires of motivation which so often burn low. While discipline is crucial to any endeavor, since there will always be times when we don’t feel like doing what we must, I value greatly the occasions when I really want to do what I ought, and therefore also value anything which can grant me that desire. No need to make harder an already difficult task by ignoring examples which spur us on to greater zeal and fervor.

In short, role models make understandable, achievable, and desirable virtues which were previously obscure, difficult, and unpleasant. I, for one, do not intend to cast aside such a useful tool, especially a tool whose usefulness is the most important of all human endeavors. Imitation in the moral life is integral to learning and action, with its role as teacher and inspiration.

One last word—returning to where we began, to the joys of art, we ought to note that it is not only biographies and history which give us role models. The heroes of our fictional stories also serve as models for us, inspiring and teaching just as the heroes of real life. It is not only foolish to ignore such a wealth of material from which to draw, but also dangerous. When we read and watch movies, the heroes we see will and do serve as models whether we realize it or not. If a film is good, we cannot help but feel admiration and respect for the people it portrays as good, and what we admire and respect we desire to be ourselves, in some small and perhaps subconscious way. Given this, we ought to ask ourselves whether it is wise to put ourselves in the hands of modern filmmakers and writers and exercise caution in the stories we consume. Let us take care then to choose for ourselves models of the highest caliber, from both life and art, and avoid drowning ourselves in a deluge of those unworthy of imitation.


Photo by Diane Picchiottino on Unsplash