“If you understood everything I said, you’d be me.”
(Miles Davis)
“I’m an atheist and I listen to jazz.”
Back when I was single, that was the opening line of my online dating profile. It was my standard disclaimer; my first-ditch attempt to weed out the riff-raff. I found it interesting that when those two facets of my persona were presented in the same breath there was more aversion to my listening tastes than there was to my lack of faith.
There are statistics suggesting that my observations in the dating pool might not be unusual. Back in 2014—the last full year of my single life—a Pew Religious Landscape Survey reported that approximately 3.1% of Americans identified as atheist. This is nearly twice the 1.6% reported just seven years earlier. While my fellow Americans may be growing less uncomfortable with atheism, they still prefer Taylor Swift to Kamasi Washington. In fact, they prefer Taylor Swift to all jazz combined. Per Nielsen’s 2014 year-end report, total sales of all jazz albums by all artists was 5.2 million copies, or about 1.4% of all music consumption. Conversely, in the last two months of the same year, Taylor Swift sold the first 3.7 million copies of her album 1989, which went on to sell over 6 million copies.
As the statistics demonstrate, being an atheist and a jazz listener puts me in two minorities. But what follows is neither an atheist manifesto nor an attempt to understand the unpopularity of jazz. My love of music and my disbelief in the gods are fundamental components of who I am. And who I am is a fundamental component of what this is. Once this project started consuming enough time to not go unnoticed by my wife, Marquita asked me why I was spending so many hours alone in my office. When I told her that I’m writing my novel she didn’t hesitate to ask, “What’s it about?”
I thought for a bit and finally said, “It’s about a cross that I bear. And I guess it’s not really a novel.” I tried to explain this project to Marquita. Back in December of 2000, my brother wrote me a letter and I never replied to him. In his letter, Doug asked me a lot of questions and I still grapple with some of them. His letter came at a time when our differing worldviews was a source of tension between my family and I. To be clear, I was the principal figure in creating the tension. And I was the one who took a blow to the head, got the message, and decided to go figure out some things.
Doug was a very conservative Christian. By most metrics, I’m much more liberal. Needless to say, we held some very different beliefs. In his letter, he told me a bit about arriving at his faith and how it led to his understanding of Creation, salvation, Truth, and redemption. Though I disagreed with him on pretty much everything he said on those topics, I always trusted, loved, respected, and appreciated Doug. In his letter, he implored me to describe what I did believe and to take some time to explain that to our parents.
Therein was my burden: I had no clue about what I “believed.” I have always struggled with beliefs both in principle and in practice. I was 34 years old with no political party, no religion, no economics, no expertise in any particular field of work or study and no clearly defined moral code. I didn’t have any real beliefs or commandments. In short, I had no philosophy, just scattered and often incoherent opinions. Given my circumstances at that time, it was apparent that my philosophically incoherent approach to life wasn’t serving me well. So I decided to change that.
I also wanted to reply to Doug’s letter and I wanted my response to be measured and considerate. I tried to respond no less than a dozen times, but each time I would write a few sentences and quickly get lost in my own larger quest for understanding. I studied some math, basic physics and philosophy from—among other sources—Doug’s old college textbooks. I engaged in online discussion and debate forums. I always tried to start with questions, rather than answers. Hopefully the desire for greater enlightenment through continuous understanding will never cease. By late 2001, I had struggled for nearly a year to respond to Doug. Donna, my girlfriend at that time, asked me, “Do you think you’re going to change his mind?”
I paused. Was that what I was going to attempt? Could I change his mind? Should I?
What started out in late 2000 as a response to my brother’s letter was the accidental impetus for Philosophy On A Low Budget. Over the many years since his letter, I’ve arrived at (or I’ve gotten closer to) some working, practicable philosophy. In other words, this is “what I believe.” (Before the final chapter, I hope I have successfully conveyed why statements that contain the phrase “I believe…” almost always make me cringe.)
Over the past several years, I have compiled a variety of ideas, methodologies, position papers, spiffy slogans and bumper stickers, rants, hypotheses, etc. By the time I revisited this project in earnest in 2018, I had long since been able to distill my worldview down to a few sentences:
“The closest thing to religion that I’ve ever had is mathematics. The closest I’ve ever gotten to God is music.”
Much of what follows is the backstory to those two flippant sentences. Mathematics as a religion has been an almost intuitive response to quench any thirst for absolute truths, though I certainly don’t fancy myself a mathematician. Shimmying with God via music is a bit more abstract, but the most exhilirating depths of improvisation have made the concept of a “creator” or “creative force” meaningful to me, albeit highly unconventional. But neither of those notions addresses the moral certainty and guidance that so many get from their faith. So I’ll address a perennial pondering of the faithful: If not from scripture or some Higher Authority, where do you get your moral code, your ethical guideposts, your strength in times of weakness?
A week or so before Doug lost his battle with cancer in 2017, I visited him. We sat in his room, speaking only occasionally to reminisce or share thoughts. I was experiencing the laconic reality that after this visit, I would never again see him alive. I decided to disturb the peace with some music. I chose Handel’s Suites For Keyboard, as performed by Keith Jarrett. I reminded him that he took me to my first Keith Jarrett concert for my 25th birthday. Though Doug didn’t recall taking me to hear Jarrett’s jazz trio back in 1991, he enjoyed the classical interpretations by the same pianist. While we sat in the stillness of his room with the music playing quietly from my phone, I recalled that moment in 2001 when Donna asked me if I thought I was going to change his mind. I felt a certain sense of relief, rather than regret, for never responding to his letter. When Doug mentioned again that he was enjoying the music, I told him, “The closest I’ve ever gotten to God is music.” I left it at that. There were no words that could describe how influential he had been in my philosophical journey.
Unfortunately, I can’t find Doug’s letter from late 2000. I will undoubtedly refer to it, memory permitting, where specific questions or statements of his have been impactful. My burden was not to address Doug’s specific questions, but to establish a coherent worldview; that is, to describe what I do believe. Given the fact that I seldom discard correspondence from family or close friends, I’m hoping that someday Doug’s letter turns up; perhaps tucked between the pages of some math, science, or philosophy book.
In addition to my standard disclaimer, I also offer the following caveats. These are my thoughts and opinions. When expressing them I reserve the right to use sarcasm, humor, music, metaphor, satire, analogy, song lyrics, physics, Quotes From Famous People, mathematics, occasional profanity, and other literary devices to convey my positions. I grew up with and have always loved dogs and it is not unusual for me to refer to myself in the canine form: “when I was a young pup,” “wash my paws,” “I’m going back to my crate,” “memories of puppyhood.” It’s just another literary device.
I am an individual of rather firm, yet often unconventional, political opinions but for the most part, I’ve tried to keep this work apolitical. I’m still not a member of any political party, nor do I want to be. I think that the two major US political parties are greater hinderances than they are assets to the nation. I think that the United States citizens would be well served to “end party politics as usual” by ending political parties (or at least breaking their chokehold on the electoral processes). This paragraph should conclude my foray into the political sphere.
While I’m certainly not in search of any religion, I have little desire to “attack it.” I’m a bit bemused by religious doctrine and practice. Just as I have no need for Snapchat, tampons, yellow socks, Lee Greenwood’s music, and a variety of trendy gadgets, I have no practical use for religion (in any of its traditional forms). Your mileage may vary. I respect that one’s faith is personal. Similarly, so is one’s lack of faith. As a member of the atheist minority, I offer a peephole into my faithlessness.
As for the standard disclaimer which announced my atheism and musical tastes at the beginning of my online dating profile… well, Iʼm married. And though I had spent a few decades dating women who were also atheists, I ended up marrying a woman of great faith who, incidentally, was married to a pastor. Her listening preferences are old school R&B, soul, and Motown. Though I love Marquita like John loved Yoko, Iʼve said many times, “I think I married the only woman on the planet who doesnʼt know about the Beatles.”
And my final disclaimer: Iʼm still not an expert in anything. Iʼm also aware that there are quite a few high profile individuals with a similar expertise in absolutely nothing hustling their opinions, moving a lot of copy, and bringing in more Benjamins than I will likely ever see in my lifetime. Iʼm exercising the same rights as them, but without much expectation of return on investment. There are some subjects in which my knowledge is greater than that of the majority of Americans while still falling short of expertise in any area. But if you are in search of a highly qualified and oft-cited endeavor, you wonʼt find that here. Iʼm just the curmudgeonly old man in the flat cap walking the big white dog before the sun comes up. But I do have some ideas. Letʼs get started.
America’s Changing Religious Landscape
2014 Nielsen Music U.S. Report
davidarex.org 