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6

Do We Have Two Selves?6

In 1886 when Robert Louis Stevenson wrote his novel, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Stevenson 1886), he had no medical or psychiatric aspirations, yet his fictional account has been found to have surprising insight into psychic and personality phenomena and has been a classic precursor of such contemporary studies as The Three Faces of Eve (Thigpen and Cleckley 1983). Stevenson’s story depicts in extreme and violent form the emergence of a second personality in the mild Dr. Jekyll—it took me a good while to connect the name of Jekyll with the good side of the personality. The second personality, Mr. Hyde, is released or induced by a drug and takes complete charge of Jekyll’s body. In Stevenson’s account, not only does personality change occur, but a physical transformation reportedly takes place.

I have sometimes wondered how much truth there is in the story. Do we have two selves, even if they do not emerge in such a dramatic and literal form? When the question is put to psychology, as I recently put it to an editor of a psychiatric journal, the answer was, “Yes, at least two!” I have long been under the impression that split personality was what is referred to as schizophrenia. Upon exploration, however, I found that schizophrenia refers less to the emergence of additional selves, and more to the split within a single personality of emotional from rational functions. Although it is characterized by delusions and hallucinations, schizophrenia is usually in the form of inappropriate or irrational behavior on the part of the subject, rather than the manifestation of another self.

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.