The Problem of Self-Identity: Atheism Part Two

In one of my posts a while back I quoted a great story told by Isaac Asimov in his autobiography In Joy Still Felt. Asimov, a famous writer of science fiction, was at a s-f convention with Avram Davidson, a very orthodox Jew. Asimov said that during a conversation in which Davidson was “stressing his orthodoxy just a bit too hard” for Asimov’s comfort, Davidson asked Asimov’s stand on religion.

“I’m an atheist.”

“Yes,” said Avram, without batting an eye, “but what kind of atheist? A Baptist atheist, a Hindu atheist? A Seventh-day Adventist atheist?”

I got the idea. “A Jewish atheist,” I said “which means I have to fight the irrational elements in Judaism particularly.” (In Joy Still Felt, pp. 174-175.)

I certainly related to this when I self-identified as an atheist, but I might go a bit farther. The Sagan quote I talked about yesterday got me thinking (in high school) about the issue of what it means to define yourself by what you don't believe. Sagan's point was that the definition of God is very different for different people and that to say you don't believe you must define which God you are saying you don't believe in. I agreed with Sagan that I didn't know of any strong evidence for anything like the God described in the Bible, but if God was simply the sum of the laws of the universe (as Sagan said Spinoza and Einstein asserted) then it would be silly to say I didn't believe in that God. However...

The fact was that I grew up in the heart of the Midwest of the U S of A, and we didn't know any Baruch Spinoza! Now Einstein I knew about (who didn't?) and I had read Relativity and Ideas and Opinions and could relate to what he said about religion (there are some great essays on religion and science in Ideas and Opinions.) But the truth was I wasn't running into Einstein around the neighborhood. When folks in Illinois asked if you believed in God few of them were wondering if I believed in the sum total of the physical laws of the universe. They were asking whether I believed in the fellow (and it was definitely a fellow not a lady) who caused the great flood, performed miracles, rose Jesus from the dead, etc. It was that God in particular that was the God of the time and place I grew up in and it was that God that I was making reference to when I self-identified as an atheist. To have said "yes" to the question "do you believe in God" at that time would have been to say (to them) that I believed in the God that they had in their minds. My choices were to say "no" and self-identify as an atheist, or say "well it depends on what you mean by God," like Sagan did, which would mean having to get into a long discussion explaining what I meant. And really what would the point be? If I described the God of Spinoza and Einstein that I could believe in to them they would just say I was an atheist anyway. Why not just save time and call myself an atheist?

My initial self-identification, therefore, I saw as a rejection of the particular religion and God that I was exposed to as a young fellow in the Midwest. So while the idea that perhaps that definition of God was narrow was planted in my mind by Sagan's comment, it really didn't take hold that it was an important issue until quite a bit later in life. More towards a change in that opinion next time.

The Problem of Self-Identity: Atheism

When I called this blog "The Evolution of the Mystery" what I had in mind was exploring the way religion has evolved for me - kind of a spiritual journal I could keep for myself and, by being made public, maybe hear from some folk who have experienced similar journeys. My continuing series on Paul Tillich is a part of that, exploring what his book and theology has meant to me. I want to intersperse that continuing series with some thoughts about my own journey with religious self-identity. When I was very young I knew our family was protestant, but didn't really have much firm idea about what the differences were and why there were varying denominations in the first place. And then, when I was in Junior High I began to self-identify as an atheist.

My first questions about this as a way of identifying my own religious views came from a book by an early hero of mine, Carl Sagan. In Broca's Brain he wrote about someone asking him if he believed in God. He writes that he told the person it depended on how he defined God. The concept of God, Sagan wrote,

covers a wide range of ideas. Some people think of God as an outsized, light skinned male with a long white beard, sitting on a throne somewhere up there in the sky, busily tallying the fall of every sparrow. Others - for example, Baruch Spinoza and Albert Einstein - considered God to be essentially the sum total of the physical laws which describe the universe. I do not know of any compelling evidence for anthropomorphic patriarchs controlling human destiny from some hidden celestial vantage point, but it would be madness to deny the existence of physical laws. Whether we believe in God depends very much on what we mean by God. (Broca's Brain, p. 282.)

This gave me some pause as a self-identifying atheist. The question became, for me, if I am an "atheist" what exactly is it that I am denying exists? Next time, my early attempts to cope with this challenge to my young self-identification.

Tillich and the Anxiety of Guilt and Condemnation

Continuing my blogging of my favorite theological book, The Courage to Be, Tillich next tackles his third form of Anxiety - "The Anxiety of Guilt and Condemnation." (Courage on 51.)

Here Tillich says that human beings are not just given being, but our being is also demanded of us. We have responsibilities that are born simply from the fact of our being. And, this is the important point in terms of the ontic nature of this anxiety, we are the judges of ourselves in this. We stand against ourselves in a sense. In relative terms Tillich identifies this with the anxiety of guilt and in a more universal sense the anxiety of self-condemnation. (Courage on 51-52.) The human, in every act taken, contributes to the fulfillment of her or his potential. But each act can also contradict or go against her or his "essential being." We each have that power as well. And even in our best actions, non-being is always present and so it is never perfect. There is a powerful ambiguity in everything we do - good is present with evil and being with non-being. It is the awareness of these ambiguities, Tillich says, that lead to the anxiety of guilt. (Courage on 52.). As he states it, again on page 52:

The judge who is oneself and who stands against oneself, he who "knows with" (conscience) everything we do and are, gives a negative judgment, experienced by us as guilt.

This is present at all times of moral awareness and can take us to the slippery slope leading to complete self-rejection and condemnation and despair. To me this is the Eden myth. Animals probably cannot have this sort of anxiety - they do not judge themselves. This self-judgment comes with knowledge of "self." It comes from Rimbaud's "I is another." In order to judge yourself, you have to stand outside yourself in some way and pronounce judgment. The concept of the "self" is a prerequisite. The awareness of the self (the discovery that "I is another") was probably a historical society development. It is not clear at all that it is natural or obvious to us in the absence of social learning. It seems to me that the knowledge that comes with the eating of the apple in the myth is something like this. It does create a kind of Original Sin. Once you get to the point of being the judge of oneself, you are never "perfect" again. And once that concept was developed it became a part of the human condition and got passed down through all the generations even to us. Every since that apple moment, when we gained knowledge of the self and could condemn ourselves (as well as praise ourselves) we are, at every moment, aware of our moral failings - of our not living up to the ideal goals of self - because we cannot rid ourselves of the presence of non-being, so linked to our existence it is.

To try and avoid this, Tillich says, we try and transform this guilt into moral action. The two ways he identifies this as happening: the first way can lead us to reject the morals upon which the judgments are based and the second way can lead us to moral rigor and self-satisfaction (he identifies the ways as usually anomism and legalism). Neither is satisfactory as the anxiety of guilt always pushes through either system and pushed us towards self-condemnation. (Courage on 53.) The anxiety of guilt, Tillich says, is connected to the anxiety of non-being. He points to Paul's reference to sin as the "sting of death" as an example of this point being made in a Christian text. The contingencies of fate, as Tillich sees it, get a moral interpretation - moral self-condemnation gets linked with non-being. The forms of anxiety "provoke and augment" one another. (Courage on 54.) He also links Spiritual and Moral non-being, declaring them interdependent. Following your "essential being" or a moral code can stave off emptiness and meaninglessness in their strongest forms. The disintegration of the moral consciousness leads to an attack on spiritual being and existential doubt (by throwing into doubt all moral principles and even the "meaning of moral self-affirmation") undermines moral self-affirmation. "In this case the doubt is felt as guilt, while at the same time guilt is undermined by doubt." (Courage on 54.) Next Tillich integrates these anxieties beginning with a discussion of the meaning of despair. But that will have to wait for another day.

The Bob Dylan show with Willie Nelson and John Mellencamp - a Review

Okay, I know I am supposed to be blogging about religion and education and such, but I attended a Bob Dylan concert on Sunday night, and, well, that is a spiritual experience, isn't it? Well it is to me anyway...

This has been a very hot summer in Houston and Tuesday night, with the area hosting Bob Dylan with Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp and the Wynos, was no exception. Temperatures were once again in the upper nineties and though rain was predicted to possibly cool things down a bit, not a drop materialized. Did I mention it was hot? I went to the show with April and our son Alex and we decided to upgrade our lawn tickets to three tickets under the canopy to get away from the sun (and potential later rain) and for $ 10 per ticket extra it seemed like a bargain.

The venue (the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavillion in Spring, Texas, just outside of Houston) is lovely and the heat didn’t manage to spoil it. It is an outdoor venue with a very large canopy over the seated area and a large lawn area behind that. The food prices are outrageous, of course, (a soda was $5.50, bottled water $ 4.00) but that is to be expected these days. To keep Alex’s interest up when there was not music we brought along Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban to read to him. He is really into Harry Potter right now and he asked for it right away as we were waiting for the start of the show. The concert began at 5:30 p.m. pretty promptly with the appearance of the Wynos. They were good but it was so early and with so many folk milling about it was not easy to concentrate on what they were doing. I will definitely keep them in mind and check out a show if they come to a smaller venue down here sometime.

After they were done we got through about half a chapter of Azkaban and Willie Nelson came on. He sounded fine – his voice was strong and he was obviously happy to be back in Texas, dropping a big Lone Star flag behind him and the band for the set. His set consisted of a lot of his hits and some standards and a few medleys of the same. He started off with “Whiskey River” and played (among other) “Always on My Mind,” “Georgia,” “Crazy,” and “Still is Still Moving to Me” (one of my Nelson favorites). The crowd enjoyed him and he threw both a hat and a bandanna into the audience before his set was over. After he was done, it was more Azkaban.

About a half chapter later it was John Mellencamp’s turn. He had a very tight band and they sounded excellent. I am not a big Mellencamp fan (I don’t actually own any of his albums) but I recognized most of the songs as his hits from the 80s and I also enjoyed the new ones. He sang one that he said was written a few weeks ago that was very nice and at least one from the new album. I heard an interview he had with Terry Gross on "Fresh Air" about his new album and was impressed with the songs he played on the radio show. He had a middle section of just him on an acoustic guitar and he sounded good on that too. At one point he asked the audience whether they wanted new songs (April and I rose our hands for them) or old ones (just about everybody else voted for the oldies). He noted that it seemed like the biggest margin of victory for the old songs he had seen on the tour, and that we must be a nostalgic crowd. He was right and I was a bit worried that that would spell trouble for Bob. Mellencamp was a crowd pleaser and probably got the best audience response to his performance. His band was very good and I especially enjoyed the violinist. After he set we got through the second to last chapter of Azkaban before the lights went out and the announcer did the long introduction of “Columbia recording artist…. Bob Dylan!”

The initial cheers were huge. Probably the loudest of the night. The crowd was very ready for Bob. It had been 2004 (with Willie Nelson on a different Baseball park tour) since I had seen Dylan and I was ready too. He opened with “Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat” which seems to me a fine lead-in. It was solid, if nothing special, and I thought Bob mic was turned up a bit too loud making him sound a bit harsher than he needed to but he was clearly engaged, playing guitar, and sounding strong. After that it was “It Ain’t Me, Babe” played (again) very loudly and sang very loudly too, almost shouting. I began to notice, however, that folks were looking around and I heard some people in front of me say that they couldn’t understand anything he was saying. I could understand him well but maybe that is because I know the words already and my mind could fill in what was unintelligible to others. (April couldn’t understand him, she later told me, though she still enjoyed him.)

By the third song, “Rollin’ and Tumblin’,” from the 2006 album “Modern Times,” people were beginning to file out. Quite a few folk left early from our section. I think some folk were pretty lost with his set. He played a lot of new songs and most of the old ones he did couldn't exactly be called "hits." This was in large part not a Dylan crowd but a general set of folk who were attracted by the idea of seeing three “legends” perform. But whereas Nelson and Mellencamp are excellent entertainers who are willing to play to an audience and give them the hits (or “nostalgia” as Mellencamp put it), Dylan is an excellent entertainer who just is not interested in playing to the audience's wishes. He is quite willing to play for an audience but he is not going to cater to their tastes. He didn’t when he got booed for “going electric” in the mid-sixties, or when he got booed for playing all religious songs in the late 70s and he doesn’t now, even when folk walk out on him. He plays what he wants to play and how he wants to play and if the audience comes around to it, great, and if not – there is always the next town…

So, following “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” (for which he switched over to keyboards where he stayed for the rest of the night) he performed the highlight of the night for me, a punching version of “Tryin’ to Get to Heaven.” It was louder and more forceful than other versions I’ve heard (nothing like the live version on "Tell Tale Signs") but this is a great song (one of my favorite Dylan songs) and it sounds fine with most any arrangement. He was very into it, singing the “… you can lose a little more” line with a striking high pitched “lose” that was very effective. He also played the harmonica on this one for the first time of the night and blew a nice solo. Then followed a solid, if unspectacular, “Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum.” Next – you knew it was coming – was “If you Ever Go to Houston.” Some others must have been able to understand him because there was an audible cheer when he sang “Houston.” After four "new" songs the crowd was a bit subdued (and getting smaller).

Then he dipped into the sixties for a hard rocking “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding).” But then it was back to the 21 century for “When the Deal Goes Down,” another highlight for me. I admit this was not a song that initially struck me from “Modern Times” but it has grown on me over the years and this was a nice version with Bob on harmonica again. Then back to the mid-sixties for a very loud, rave-up version of “Highway 61 Revisited.” I thought that might be it except for the encore, but he surprised me with a lovely version of “Nettie Moore” (another “Modern Times” highlight) featuring some fine harmonica. Then there was an very up tempo version of “Summer Days” (the best fast rocker of the evening, in my opinion) that closed the main body of the show. Dylan seemed to be enjoying the night, allowing himself a couple of laughs/cackles during “Summer Days” reminding one of the chuckles on "Together Through Life."

The encore was the standard “Like a Rolling Stone,” “Jolene,” and “All Along the Watchtower.” The crowd that remained seem to get into LaRS the most but were pretty hyped during the encore (at least in comparison with the rest of the show). I got the feeling that this crowd would have been happier with Dylan if he had done “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “Rainy Day Women 12 & 35,” "Mr. Tambourine Man," and “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and the like but I, for one, was glad to hear a set that consisted of a majority of songs from 1997 on. There isn’t much to say about the encore – they were performed very loudly (a theme for the night) and the crowd responded somewhat better to “Jolene” than some of the other new songs of the night, but that might have been the result of being seated between two “recognizable” songs. The concert came to an end and Dylan and the band did that odd thing they do of standing there looking at the crowd and walking off without even a bow. As usual, Dylan hadn’t spoken the entire night except to introduce the band members during the encore. And as usual, the show was awesome for a Dylan geek like me.

We left, all three of us a little giddy. All three main performers were good. April said she enjoyed the Nelson section the best, Alex said he like John Mellencamp, and I – well, needless to say, all three got one vote as the highlight of the evening. Alex (who is five years old) spotted a Willie Nelson plush doll on the way out and we got it for him. He slept with it last night and tonight, along with Harry Potter. Interesting company Willie! Alex also ended up summing up the night probably the best. Hugging his new Willie Nelson he said “I'll always remember tonight! I liked them all. They all sang good and played perfectly! They must practice a lot!” Amen.