Living in a Strange Country

'I don't have a problem with Jesus,', said Cylene the Goth, the American in Britain, over dinner. 'I'm fine with Jesus. Jesus was great. It's being made to feel a pariah unbeliever I can't take.

'Imagine you think there's life on Mars and hardly anybody else does. Yet they can't help reminding you you're wrong, all the time. People come and knock on your door to tell you, Did you know, There's no life on Mars? Athletes get their medals and say how great it is and then, 'By the way, There's no life on Mars', and everyone cheers. It says on all the coins and banknotes, 'No life on Mars!!' Schoolkids line up in front of the flag everyday and chant in unison to remind themselves There's no life on Mars. Is it any wonder I got to hate religion? It's just self-defence.'

Compared to that, the UK seems so refreshing to Cylene. There's an Established Church, but it's polite and reticent and tries not to annoy.

I know hot Christians decry the Church of England for its lukewarmness, but it has its benefits, and it arises from kindness. Jesus preached to the congregation: the nation of Israel was already supposed to believe, was already 'inside', and in any case, if any of us could preach like he did, would it really get up the atheists' noses? The rest of the time he said nothing until people asked him questions. Seems like a good pattern to me. Reticence about spiritual matters is right: you don't know where people are until you talk to them and get to know them, don't know what they need. And liturgical religion is just that, reticent. Its predictability and control allows space for individual emotion and reflection; it meets people in a variety of different places. And reticent public religion gives people who aren't 'inside' space as well. Long may that continue.