Farewell to Ruth Gledhill, Fleet Street's Last Full-Time Religious Affairs Correspondent

Ruth Gledhill's tenure as Religious Affairs Correspondent at The Times is ending. For more than a quarter of a century she has been an influential figure in the febrile borderlands where the church and the media meet. She has not always been loved by the church: truth-seekers never are; but she has been admired and respected. Thank you Ruth. We honour your achievements and wish you well. 

She is the last of her kind. With her departure, an era is coming to an end. There will no longer be a full-time journalist doing her job: not at The Times, not anywhere in Fleet Street. So this is a symbolic moment. I don't know the story at The Times, but we can guess that in the board room, the discussion ran along the following lines. Religion has been sidelined from the mainstream of public life. It's now a voluntary, marginal activity participated in by fewer and fewer people. In an increasingly secular society, religion doesn't merit intensive media coverage, and therefore not a full-time senior post. 

However, this ignores the blindingly obvious fact about the 21st century, that religion is playing an ever bigger part in world affairs and in our own society. This has taken some people by surprise. A generation back we might not have predicted the resurgence of radical fundamentalisms in world faiths, nor their often dire social, political and human consequences, though the signs were there if we had been paying attention. Islam is in the ascendant in many societies with the inevitable push-back of Islamophobia, often fuelled in the USA by the politics of the far right with its extreme conservative Christian agenda. Anti-semitism is worryingly on the increase across Europe. In this country, the place of religion in schools and allegations of discrimination against employees because of their beliefs continue to exercise debate, while in the British churches, the fractious debate about same-sex relationships is coloured by the oppression of homosexuals in African churches. I could go on.

My point is simple. Religion is not in decline in the modern world: it is flourishing. But it is a highly complex phenomenon that is evolving in new ways as the global village contracts. Understanding faith in a diverse world, making sense of the behaviours of faith communities calls for real insight they are to be responsibly presented to those who want to read the signs of the times. Broadsheet readers are right to look for careful analysis informed by a sophisticated grasp of religious affairs that can challenge the naïve readings we are so often fed by the media. 

This is precisely the time when we need our journalists to have as deep and comprehensive an understanding of religion as we expect from those who write about politics, education, literature or science. It is not enough simply to report 'stories'. It is the interpretation that matters. And without well-educated specialists in theology and religion, I doubt if we are going to get the in-house level of intelligent interpretation we have been grateful for from Ruth Gledhill and her like.

So come on, broadsheets. You may not like it, but for better or worse, religion is a major feature on the landscape of modernity. You have the power to shape minds for good as your readers try to make sense of what they see and hear. Give us back our interpreters. Otherwise we shall be left stranded on Dover Beach while the sea of faith makes its 'melancholy long withdrawing roar' and there will be no-one left in mainstream journalism to help us make sense of those other disquieting noises whose crescendo we hear in the dark, the 'confused alarms of struggle and fight where ignorant armies clash by night'.

Meanwhile, read The Tablet each week for the best-informed commentary on religion that's available in the UK at present. 

Season's Greetings or Happy Christmas?

Outside Durham town hall there is a sign wishing us all SEASONS GREETINGS. Let’s not argue about the missing apostrophe. It’s the text itself I’m concerned about. It used to say HAPPY CHRISTMAS. Not now. ‘Season’s Greetings’ isn’t as risible as Birmingham’s infamous ‘Winterval’ but in its awful blandness it’s still a worrying sign of the times. We don’t seem to be allowed to use the C-name in public any more for fear of causing upset.

I wrote about this to the Mayor of Durham, who is also the Chair of the County Council. I received a courteous, lengthy reply from her.  As I suspected, it comes down to not wanting to offend people of other faith traditions, or those with no faith, by being too explicit about the Christian nature of Christmas. In an inclusive multi-faith society where no single religious tradition is to be privileged over any other, we must be careful.

No-one disagrees with the project of building inclusive communities in a modern democracy. But this isn’t really the point. The fact is that England is a Christian country, not just because of its history but because Christianity is (still) by law established with the Sovereign as Defender of the Faith. I guess that it’s in this spirit that our political leaders, whatever their personal convictions, are sending seasonal cards bearing the greeting ‘happy’ or ‘merry’ Christmas. Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg, whatever their own faith, are presumably sending cards to a great many people who are not themselves practising Christians. (I haven’t been able to ascertain what message David Cameron’s card opts for.)

But that claim by itself doesn’t move me unduly. I am much more persuaded by the attitudes people of other faith communities actually take towards Christmas. There is clear evidence that they very much want us to own our faith seriously and not be coy or ashamed about it. I was intrigued to hear of some devout overseas Muslims who had chosen to come to Durham University precisely because of its Christian origins and because Durham City wears its historic Christian character on its sleeve.

A Guardian article from 2011 entitled ‘Christmas is not just for Christians’, focuses on a multi-faith group called the Phoenix Inter-Community Initiative. This aims to explore a ‘new centre ground’ against the polarising forces of extremism and radicalisation in politics and religion. That year they ran a campaign to ‘demonstrate support and respect for Christmas among different faiths’. They tell of Muslim students taking part in nativity plays and how the seasonal symbols and archetypes of Christmas (e.g. darkness and light) are common to many different faiths. They are keen to get non-Christians joining Christians in volunteering over the Christmas period and supporting Christian charities. They quote a Hindu who says: ‘I don’t know anyone who actually wants to ban Christmas and most Hindus and Muslims that I know actually celebrate it’.

Dialogue between faiths is conducted on a much more sophisticated intellectual basis than many people realise. Participants in such conversations know that honest, rigorous debate and practical collaboration are entirely compatible with religious convictions that are deeply held on every side. Sharing in one another’s festivals can be an important part of learning together, as can mutual hospitality offered generously, as it very often is, by mosques, temples, synagogues and churches alike.

So, County Council, please give us back our Happy Christmas sign next year. If you want to wish people Happy Eid or Happy Passover or Happy Diwali as well, why not? It's what they do in Leicester, one of the most diverse cities in the UK. Perhaps it's our lack of real experience in the North East of living in settings of true ethnic & religious diversity that seduces us into unintelligently timid approaches to faith. So please take religion seriously. It will be warmly welcomed not just by the churches but by people of many different faiths who are citizens of Durham and want to share with Christians their celebration of this most wonderful time of year.

An Open Letter to Paolo di Canio

Dear Paulo di Canio

 

We have never met, and I am the first to admit that I don't know very much about football. You do, and I respect that. However, I hope you will allow me to say something about your appointment as manager at Sunderland FC as personally as I can.

 

My relationship with the Black Cats goes back a long way. I married into a family of fervent lifelong Sunderland supporters.  My wife and I got engaged on Cup Final Day 1973, figuring that if Sunderland won her father would say yes to anything and if they lost, he would be past caring.  All these years we have wanted SAFC to do well. We have been glad when it did, and sad when it didn't. We know how much its football success has meant for the people of Sunderland and the North East who are rightly proud of your new Club.  

 

But today I am wondering what to do. Your appointment raises very difficult questions. You see, I am the child of a Jewish war refugee who got out of Germany and came to Britain just in time. Some of her family and friends perished in the Nazi death camps. So I find your self-confessed fascism deeply troubling. Fascism was nearly the undoing of the world. It cost millions of innocent lives. Mussolini, who you say has been deeply misunderstood, openly colluded with it.  You are said to wear a tattoo DUX which speaks for itself. This all adds up to what I find baffling. 

 

You say that you are not a racist, but it needs great sophistication to understand how fascism and racism are ultimately different.  I can promise you that this distinction will be lost on the people of the North East where the British National Party is finding fertile ground in which to sow the seeds of its pernicious and poisonous doctrine.  You did not necessarily know this before you came.  But I believe that unless you clearly renounce fascism in all its manifestations, you will be associated with these toxic far-right tendencies we have seen too much of in this region.

 

At your press conference today, you had the chance to do this, to say in so many words that you have been misunderstood (just as you say Mussolini was).  You were asked where you stood on fascism, but declined to give an unambiguous response.  One sentence is all that it would have taken.  I’m genuinely perplexed as to why you didn’t take the opportunity that was handed to you. Maybe your minders told you to stay on-message.  But don't you see that it is no answer to plead that this press call was about football, not politics.  Where a Premier League club is concerned, you can’t ever separate the two. Politics and high-profile sport, like religion, are about the whole of life.  Football is deeply political. To say otherwise may be convenient, but it's naïve.

 

Premier League players and managers are big role-models for the young.  Is fascism what you or Sunderland FC want our children and teenagers to admire and emulate?  And if this doesn’t trouble you personally, should it not trouble those who appointed you?  The Club now stands to suffer loss of support as well as see its standing and respect damaged not just in this part of the world but internationally. Its reputation has been hard won. I am just one of thousands who would be sad to see it squandered.

 

So there it is. Please tell me how to go on supporting the Black Cats with a good conscience, even from the sofa, because believe me, I want to. Please tell me that I have misunderstood, or missed some fundamental issue here. I am simply telling you with a heavy heart that it feels hard at the moment to stay loyal.

 

Yours sincerely,

Michael Sadgrove

 

Now Voyager! Travelling the Solar System

What's been the most moving TV programme I have seen for a long time?  It may surprise you that it was a BBC4 documentary on the journeys of Voyager 1 and 2 through the Solar System. 

They two Voyagers were launched in 1977 to study the outer planets of the Solar System: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune.  A blog can hardly do justice to the quantity and quality of the information beamed back to us across the void.  The turbulent atmosphere of Jupiter with its storm-system known as the Great Red Spot, the rings of Saturn and the shadows on them caused by its magnetic field, Uranus (which largely kept its secrets from Voyager) and Neptune the ethereal blue planet that is the sentinel of the Solar System: all these and many of their diverse and fascinating moons have been disclosed as never before. 

The two Voyagers are receding from us (in different directions) by several thousand km/hour.  Yet their 1970s technology, so clunky by current standards, is still working and is capable of transmitting information across billions of miles, and for as long as they can continue to be powered.  It’s an eerie thought that these humanly-made objects are now crossing the threshold between the sun’s influence, passing out of the environment that is earth’s home, and entering deep space. This is as far as anything made by humankind has ever travelled.  

Why did I find all this powerfully moving?

For two reasons.  The first is the tribute the Voyagers’ journeys are still paying to what human beings are capable of.  But this isn’t simply the technology that launched them on this odyssey.  The spacecraft are carrying discs that are a greeting from Planet Earth to any ET who may chance to come across them.  They contain a record of what the world was like in the 1970s: landscapes, townscapes, human language, beliefs, buildings, writings and culture.  Among this testimony to homo sapiens sent into space was the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, perhaps because there would be some consensus (which I’d endorse) that he was the greatest composer of the western world.  

Of course the chance that any extra-terrestial will ever see pictures of children across the world and listen to their greetings is practically zero. But the real point was not to inform ET.  It was to inform us, and by an act of the imagination, underline the infinite preciousness of planet earth and the miracle of life that has evolved on its surface. To think of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues hurtling through inter-stellar space for aeons to come should make us realise how marvellous a thing it is that we are here at all, so privileged, so gifted and yet so precariously placed in the face of the threats that are posed not by outside forces but from our very selves and our capacity for self-destruction.  We hear the echoes of our own life from a far-off place, and that makes us hear ourselves in new ways.

There is a real agenda for theology here, because the Voyager journeys not only put questions about the cosmos and its meaning but also put the psalmist’s question (apologies for the non-inclusive language): ‘what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you visit him?’ That question of Psalm 8 is asked because the psalmist has looked up into the sky and been awed by its tracts unknown.  If the Voyager programme has helped instil a greater sense of awe so that we begin to know our place in the universe, it will have been worth it.  I wish I could believe that the past 35 years have seen the human family take that question seriously, become more aware, more responsible, wiser.  But we must not lose heart.

My second reason for being touched was more personal.  The Voyagers were launched in 1977.  That was also the year that our first child was born and launched on the adventure of being alive. She too has been travelling for all that time.  Like them, she is an explorer.  She is bound to be because she is a human being, and it’s the vocation and destiny of every human being to discover worlds undreamed of and try to make sense of life’s mystery. 

This is where cosmology and religion belong together.  It's one of those places where faith seeks understanding to the enrichment and delight of the human mind and heart.