191. hardihood

Last night I posted to Facebook about how yesterday evening I was mopping the floor of my apartment to music written about a thousand years ago, and imagining that someday, a guy is going to find this ridiculously nerdy trait (i.e., my interest in early music) incredibly endearing. A friend commented: That isn’t pretentious at all. 😛

My immediate reaction was to apologize all over myself, realizing how snobbish and pretentious such a statement might come across as. Instead, I replied: Perhaps… but it’s unique!

After doing a little more mopping, I came back and added: Actually, no—it isn’t pretentious at all. It would be pretentious if I’d posted this to appear more cultured or sophisticated. But the truth is, I am listening to medieval music at this very moment while mopping my apartment floor.

Merriam-Webster defines pretentious: “Having or showing the unpleasant quality of people who want to be regarded as more impressive, successful, or important than they really are.”

Here I’m reminded of a passage from C. S. Lewis’ Screwtape Proposes a Toast, in which the Senior Tempter and Undersecretary of his department in Hell is remarking on the importance of reframing democracy “as an incantation; if you like, purely for its selling power” in order to produce in people the feeling that “prompts a man to say I’m as good as you.”

Presently he suspects every mere difference of being a claim to superiority. No one must be different from himself in voice, clothes, manners, recreations, choice of food: “Here is someone who speaks English rather more clearly and euphoniously than I — it must be a vile, upstage, la-di-da affectation. Here’s a fellow who says he doesn’t like hot dogs — thinks himself too good for them, no doubt. Here’s a man who hasn’t turned on the jukebox — he’s one of those goddamn highbrows and is doing it to show off. If they were honest-to-God all-right Joes they’d be like me. They’ve no business to be different. It’s undemocratic.”

The fact of the matter is that I’m a nerd—and a very specific type of nerd at that. Shortly after my family moved from Kansas to Minnesota, my father took me to a concert where the first of Bach’s Brandenburg concertos was on the program. By the end of the piece, I was madly in love with early music.

Some of the happiest moments of my teen years were when I was playing or studying Baroque music. I nearly majored in historical performance (which would’ve required going somewhere other than Northwestern).

I’m not even sure I can explain what it is about early music that so captivates me. As I’ve been musing on what it is that I love especially about medieval music, I figure it’s probably the same thing that attracts me to history—that though most of us live in a more sophisticated world than the vast majority of our ancestors; travel about in cars, airplanes, and even into space; and have access to technology and medicine that would have made us gods to earlier generations, we’re not that different from the people who lived ten thousand years ago.

Take the song I posted above. It was written sometime in the late 12th century by a woman known as the Comtessa de Dia (Die, a county in the High Middle Ages located in the southeastern part of France), or as just Beatritz. She was a trobairitz, a female troubadour. If you remember your music history, the troubadours were composers and performers of lyric poetry, usually about chivalry and courtly love. Compare this lyric from Ab joi et ab joven m’apais to any pop song written in the last hundred years:

I feed on joy and youthfulness
and joy and youthfulness content me;
since my friend is the most cheerful
I am cheered and charmed by him,
and because I’m true to him,
it’s well that he be true
to me; I never stray from loving him
nor do I have the heart to stray.

Sure, the sentiment is a little different, just as the clothes were different and people believed that demons were the cause of sickness and disasters, or that women were conceived because of weak male sperm or the direction of the wind at the time of intercourse. (No kidding on the last one. See Thomas Aquinas’ “On how a woman is to be born a woman” from the Summa Theologica. Crazy.) But it’s clear from the lyric that Beatritz is excited about being in love. It’s like a postcard from the 1100s.

In a way, I find in early music a link to humanity by composing my own music, the same as people have been composing music since the first humans joined their voices in song. I find a link to my humanity in housekeeping through images of excavated floors of Neolithic houses that show signs of having been regularly swept, or indentations in floors where someone knelt regularly enough while tending a fire to leave permanent marks.

I’m not interested in any of this because it’s “intellectual.” I’m interested because it fascinates me and captivates my imagination and my thoughts.

So it’s frustrating when I get labeled as “pretentious” for liking these things, for being a Classically trained musician, for not liking most of what’s on television or the radio or in theaters. Because I do have a love for music, for history, for good stories, for science (even though I don’t understand most of it), and for good literature.

And I’m hoping these qualities (e.g., mopping floors to mediaeval music) will be intriguing and endearing someday to the man I marry—whoever he is. That’s one of many reasons for leaving Minnesota for graduate school—wherever that is. Because having interests in obscure subjects is not a Midwestern virtue. It is something, however, encouraged in academia, where it’s becoming clearer that I belong.

As Alanis Morissette sings, “… what I wouldn’t give to meet a soul-mate—someone else to catch this drift.”

121. depone

depone, verb: To testify under oath; depose.

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‘Atheism’ is a term that should not even exist. No one ever needs to identify himself as a ‘non-astrologer’ or a ‘non-alchemist.’ We do not have words for people who doubt that Elvis is still alive or that aliens have traversed the galaxy only to molest ranchers and their cattle. Atheism is nothing more than the noises reasonable people make in the presence of unjustified religious beliefs.
— Sam Harris

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A few days ago there was a story circulating in the news about a U.S. Army soldier who has been petitioning to be classified as “Humanist” instead of “Atheist” on his official records and dog tags. The Army’s rationale? It’s the same difference as putting “Catholic” instead of “Christian.” And I can kind of see their point from an administrative angle. If they start to recognize one group as being unique then they’ll have to start recognizing all as unique. Then it starts to become a free-for-all, with everyone focusing on their differences instead of working on building unity and cohesion.

However, Maj. Jay Bradley also has a valid point. It would be one thing if the term atheist had as concrete a definition as Christian. But it doesn’t. In a post-9/11 world (especially in the military, from the stories I’ve read), if you hold a belief other than Christian, you may as well be a terrorist—or a child molester, or a serial rapist. You run the risk of being seen as anti-American. If you don’t believe in god, you’re turning your back on tradition, on all moral values, and on everything that is good and decent.

“Smoked newborn baby, anyone?”

As Sam Harris said, it’s unfortunate that we still need labels to differentiate ourselves from theists, or that anybody still cares—just as it’s unfortunate that anyone still cares that some of us love someone of the same sex and want to share a life with that person. But that is not the world that we live in.

Atheism by itself is not a philosophy. It is simply a non-belief in god(s). It doesn’t tell you anything about what a person believes, and that leaves much open to being misconstrued or misinterpreted (per above). Atheism can be expressed in a number of different ways, of which humanism is one, though probably the most prevalent.

“Humanism is a philosophy that guides a person,” Bradley said in an AP article. “It’s more than just a stamp of what you’re not.”

So why should anybody care about this? Certainly, no one forced any of us to become atheists or agnostics. You could argue that we’re all actually born atheists; that belief in gods is forced on us as children before we have the ability to choose for ourselves. And some of us are fortunate enough to be born into secular homes. For most of us though, it became our choice to leave our churches and communities of faith. But is that reason enough to compel organizations like the Army to recognize Humanists? Do atheists and other nontheists deserve secular “chaplains” (or whatever the equivalent might be).

To the latter question, I think that yes, secular soldiers and other personnel need a point person to be able to go to regarding personal matters, without danger of being proselyted to or even judged. When you’re at your neediest and most vulnerable emotionally, it’s imperative to have a safe place to go for help and advice. When an atheist soldier has just lost a friend in combat, can a religious chaplain be relied and called upon to speak to that soldier’s beliefs—that that friend is truly gone?

It’s not that I think that a religious chaplain would unscrupulously take advantage of a moment like that to try and convert anyone. However, at his/her core, that chaplain truly believes that another life awaits us after death. They want to offer and share the peace and comfort that they find in that belief. An atheist “chaplain” will see it differently.

But lest we think this a military issue, many Christians are overall wondering what the big deal is, or wonder why atheists object to any forms of religion being expressed in society. (Well, many Whites didn’t understand what all those Negros were raising a fuss about, having to sit in the back of the bus.) Many even feel attacked (oh, the irony) by the presence of atheists, and can’t see that what we want is a society where everyone is free to practice their beliefs without imposing them on others. I wish soldiers didn’t have to declare their religious beliefs on their dog tags, or that they have to decline to participate in platoon prayers (and no doubt get some grief over doing so, or are eyed warily afterward).

A friend of mine works in an industry that draws and employs many conservative (=religious) people, and doesn’t feel secure being “out” as an atheist there. I wish she weren’t afraid of retaliation.

In some ways, this is similar to the debate that’s going on over same-sex marriage; over whether gays are made second-class citizens by denying them the legal right to marry while offering alternatives like domestic partnerships or civil unions. In some ways. In other ways that’s a whole other discussion.

However.

This is fundamentally a matter of affirming personhood, and of a rancorous and frightened majority desperate to hold onto the status quo attempting to silence a growingly vocal minority. It is about people standing up and declaring who they truly are and what they believe, without having to put up with the prejudice and proselyting of the “faithful,” or with radical Christians attempting to shove their fundamentalist religion down the throats of vulnerable children.

I wish we didn’t have to identify as atheists; but as long as we have powerful Christians like Pat Robertson, Rick Santorum, “Porno” Peter LaBarbera, Tony Perkins, the American Family Association, James Dobson, Rick Warren and David Barton, we have to.

And loudly.