The proper psychological term for the existence of more than one personality is double or multiple personality, or dissociation of personality. There are a number of studies of such phenomena, among which are the The Dissociation of Personality, a study of Christine L. Beaucamp by Morton Prince (Prince 1906); and as already mentioned, The Three Faces of Eve by Corbett H. Thigpen and Harvey M. Cleckley. The Three Faces of Eve is one of the most widely known—both the book and its sequel, The Final Face of Eve, written by Eve herself, are incomparable (Lancaster 1958). The story is about a woman who alternates between two distinct personalities, Eve White and Eve Black. Unlike Jekyll and Hyde, neither Eve has memory of the other. The most striking thing about the story is the point during psychiatric treatment when a third personality emerges, Jane. For me, there is something awesome in this event. Perhaps it’s because personalities just do not happen all at once, but develop over time. Suddenly during an interview with her therapist, Eve changes stance, voice, manner, and the doctor asked her who she is, expecting her to say either Eve Black or Eve White. Her reply is “Jane!”
In addition to psychology, Christian theology has something to say about whether we have more than one self. Theology has long been based upon the symbolic description of the nature of humanity as possessing two aspects or selves, the sinful and the saved. Thus, the nature of humanity and reality for Christian theology is a dual one. We possess a sinful nature caused or represented by the fall of the mythological first man, Adam. Our nature is subject to redemption through the sacrifice and the example of Jesus. Although Calvinism separated people into groups of the elect and the damned, recent Christian theology has been prone to divide each person into that which makes for sin or salvation. In the tradition of existentialism, Paul Tillich expresses this as the difference between humankind in existence as we are and in essence as we would be.
What about us as religious liberals, and presumably as normal psychological specimens? Do we have two selves? It is my thesis that we may think of ourselves symbolically as having two selves, that person which we are and that person which we would become. I think this view is basic for religion, which is concerned with what we are and what we should be and helping us bridge the gap between the two.
The consciousness of these two selves begins early in childhood. Harry Stack Sullivan refers to them as the “good-me” and the “bad-me” (Evans 1996, 86–89). As he suggests, the child learns that approved behaviors are what the “good-me” is, reinforced by acceptance and tenderness of the “mothering one.” Likewise, the “bad-me” is learned by the level of anxiety associated with disapproved action. For the child these feelings of tenderness and anxiety must be immense. It must seem as if the “good-me” and the “bad-me” which they define are very real. This is why the “bad-me” qualities are sometimes projected and blamed on imaginary companions, which is a rudimentary form of multiple personality.
As we grow older, however, this dichotomy becomes more abstract and symbolic. We see ourselves as we are, and we think of ourselves as we would like to be. There is a continual tension in the life of the religious person, between the polarities of the real and the ideal. In essence, it is an intellectual distinction. But from time to time, something peculiar occurs: when we find ourselves doing something degrading, we are overcome by the sensation that it is not really us doing it. It is almost as if another person is doing it. At the times we find ourselves doing something wonderful, we are surprised and ponder if this can really be us. So, although we really know that this division into two selves is symbolic, there are times in our consciousness when it borders on the literal.
Given the fact that symbolically speaking we have two selves, what we are and what we strive to be, what are the implications for ourselves and for religion? One of the most important things about such a division of personality is that the two selves should not be conceived as being too far apart, and that we should be able to realize our ideal from time to time. There is bound to be some gap between what we are and would like to be unless we happen to be perfect, or unless we do not set our ideals so they challenge us. On the other hand, it is unhealthy to set our goal so high or allow ourselves to slip so low that they cannot be reconciled.
The second application follows closely on the first. When we are not able to realize the ideal and we contain the two selves of what we are and what we would be, we should not lose sight of the fact that both are parts of ourselves. We must never cease being able to affirm and accept either. Religion is deeply concerned that we always be able to affirm our ideals. Religion should be equally concerned that we always be able to accept ourselves as we are. In sacrificing ideals, the inevitable result would be a sense of guilt. On the other hand, rejecting ourselves would be at the cost of our self-respect. Regardless of what depths of despair or dishonor we fall, we must be able to affirm ourselves. When people cannot accept their ideals, they cease to be religious; but when they cannot accept themselves, they may become psychotic.
We have referred to the implications for religion. The most important thing for religion, and this is the final implication I would touch upon, is that religion should help us bridge the gap between the real and the ideal, religion should serve people in the process of becoming. The job of religion is not finished with the presentation of the ideal. The task of religion is concerned with how the ideal is realized and actualized. When someone moves from a limited to a fuller self, if only for a moment and if only in a small way, what takes place? How does this happen? This is what we need to discover, this is what religion has to cultivate. This is what has to be expressed in poetic and compelling ways in our services of worship, in symbols and forms that have meaning for us.
Let us despair of neither our ideals, nor ourselves. As we accept and believe in what we are, let us seek together ways to the greater selves that we may yet be.
6. Sermon delivered by the author at the Church of the Reconciliation Unitarian Universalist, Utica, New York on February 3, 1963.
7
Earth’s The Right Place For Love7
With the familiar strains of “O come, O come, Emmanuel,” we are reminded that Christmas is just around the corner. Christmas is many different things. It is not just a Christian holiday; it is a festival, a midwinter festival, of many religions.
Yet, in our culture, it is a time of year that should have something to do with Jesus. For us as Unitarian Universalists, it is a time of year when the teachings of Jesus have particular import. As the manger scenes appear about our city, and angels and magic stars materialize around us, we think not of the supernatural Jesus—divinely conceived, supernaturally resurrected. We think about the miracle of how anyone could be born as such an innocent, helpless baby, and through the nurture and care of his parents and friends, become such a great man as Jesus was. It is a time of the year when we should pause amidst the commercialism of the season and wonder at the wisdom and simplicity of his teachings:
You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. . . . (Matt 5:38–39 RSV)
Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. . . . Judge not and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. (Luke 6:27–38 RSV)
A new commandment I give to you that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. (John 13:34 RSV)
Yet, wonderful as the teachings of Jesus are, we are sometimes forced to ask the question, “Are they really applicable to twentieth century America? Are they practical?” What place does love have in a land torn by racial hatred and strife? How can we turn the other cheek, when literally, it would mean submitting to communism? We ask is this the time, is this the place for such love? In Robert Frost’s phrase, “Is earth the right place for love” (Frost 1969, 122)?
As we approach another Christmas season, it seems to me that is vital that we reaffirm that such love is possible, that earth is the right place