Contents
Articles
- Tabloids of Stone, Andrew Weltch
- Controversial Film Christologies, Jo Pearson, Paul Overend
- A Bluffer's Guide to Celluloid Christologies
- The Secrets of the Passion, Michael Morton
- The Future of the Judeo-Christian Tradition in the Second Axial Age: A Westar Conference Report, Patti Whaley
- Do You Have a "Psyche-Anima"?, Michael Irwin
Reviews
Regulars and Occasionals
- Postscripts: On the Nature of the SoF Networks, Tim Bayes
- Postscripts: Noel Cheer on the Networks' Relations with Organised Religion, Noel Cheer
- Radical Theology Series - Part 10: The Sea of Faith, Trevor Greenfield


Editorial
For more information, visit our website at www.sofn.org.uk ISSN 1460-5244 © SOF 2004 sof 65 May 2004 Contents 3 Editorial Articles 5 Tabloids of Stone, by Andrew Weltch 7 Controversial Film Christologies, by Jo Pearson and Paul Overend 13 The Secrets of the Passion, by Michael Morton Feature II A Bluffer’s Guide to Celluloid Christologies Book Reviews 16 David Pattison reviews You are The Light, by John Martin Sahajananda Conference Reviews 17 Westar Conference Report, by Patti Whaley Regular 20 Postbag 21 Postscripts 23 Radical Theology Series - Part 10:The Sea of Faith Religion, Emotion and the If the stories and mythic narratives of religions once determined the values and aspirations of individuals and communities, today it is the media that do so. Interpreting the world in which we live, establishing the agendas of politics, offering and questioning moral frames of reference, the media have assumed the role of teacher and mediator, usurping the roles of rabbi, imam and priest. They may be far more effective in reaching into the households of almost all Westerners, and by satellite across the globe, but their methods and agendas are quite different.
Where religions tell ancient stories, sometimes in new ways and with new insights, that help us to reflect on the nature of reality and the human condition, the media are dependent on the latest notions, or even real-time action, whether it is global news or ‘reality TV’. To compete in the media simplifications miss the complexity and subtlety of the issues in the quest for attention- grabbing headlines Media opportunity for a dialogue that might reach understanding. TV replaces the ideal of shared values with the portrayal of controversy, and is in danger of fostering extremism.
This could be less true of newspapers and magazines, their textual nature providing an opportunity for more lengthy exploration; yet we find headlines, even in the broadsheets, that play on simplicities. ‘Witchcraft row over Anglican priest in Pagan sex rite’, read The Daily Telegraph (11 June 1995) of an interfaith service which was co-celebrated by a Pagan priestess and a Sea of Faith clergyman. Even the then - Archbishop of Wales, Dr. Rowan Williams, was accused of ‘dabbling in Paganism’ when on 5 August 2002 he was made a Druid of the Welsh Gorsedd of Bards at the National Eisteddfod in Wales. The newspaper failed to recognise the distinction between druidry and paganism or that the Welsh Gorsedd of Bards has no direct links with paganism — or indeed, that another of its honorary members, the Queen, is Supreme Governor of the Church of England. Such examples miss the dialogue between traditions and the rediscovery of cultural identities in all their complexity.
The media reduce complexity to evocative, Rowan Williams overloaded media market, the various media sensationalise their stories, competing for the most eye-catching headline, the most shocking plot, the wittiest take on things, but rarely the most reflective analysis of the human condition.
The nature of TV is such that simplicity and clarity are preferred to complexity and subtlety. In the place of reflective analysis by informed parties, whereby a common story of events can emerge, TV substitutes the cheap ‘consumer participation’ option. Immediate reactions are invited from people in the street, the audience, or by email, resulting in a cacophony of uninformed opinions. Televised ‘debates’ use representatives of polarised opinions, but the views of thoughtful people are ignored. Complexity is reduced to slogans, sound bites and the airing of prejudice.
In such a context of simple opposites, there is no if inaccurate, simplicities. For example, with news cameras reporting a strange array of religious customs and practices at the Indian Kumbh Mela festival, Indian religious traditions are reduced to a simple exotic Hinduism for the consumption of Westerners fascinated with the East. Repeated front-page headlines have associated Christian evangelicals with millenarian fundamentalism (and the support of the State of Israel) and the whole of Islam with extremism and terrorism (whilst ignoring the ‘seizure’ of Arab lands by Israel and the USA).
Such headlines fail to recognise the diversity of Islamic cultures and the peaceful co-existence of different faiths in many places throughout history, or the fact that the scriptures (which many believe that evangelicals read ‘literally’) do not support the selective interpretations of the few. Such media simplifications miss the complexity and subtlety of the issues in the quest for attention-grabbing Sof 65 May 2004 headlines that replace thoughtful reflection with manipulated feelings, and provoke emotional, knee-jerk responses. Such media caricatures and stereotypes foster prejudice and feed global conflict.
The media use simplicities, caricatures and stereotypes, because of commercial pressures. By simplifying ideas in order to provoke an emotional response, the media are able to generate sales and thus attract advertising revenue.
According to Stjepan Mestrovic (see Pearson, SOF 60), it is this linking of ideas with emotions that characterises the capitalism of the media age. The consumer buys into ideas for their emotional satisfaction. Whether our response is pleasure or outrage, a simple emotion is easier to market than complex arguments. The consumed ideas are then internalised by us, transforming our values and intellectual horizons. The use of the word ‘terrorism’ in a media story, for instance, evokes outrage, but bypasses moral and political questions for immediate emotional reaction. For example, the association of the term ‘terrorist’ with those who have had their homeland occupied, takes away their claims to their home, fails to engage with the religious basis of claims to a ‘promised land’, and overlooks the United Nations’ repeated failures to assist peace in the Middle East.
But simplicity sells. indignation can be enjoyed from the comfort of a cinema seat by identification with a clear example of persecution in the past do not determine us. It does this, however, in a world in which religious as well as secular narratives still hold sway over individuals but where the tools of the economic market may well determine our collective emotions. The media sell emotions and we consume the products and share in the emotions. Myths of escape from capitalist society may offer attractive, even admirable, individual or communal identities. But by buying into these myths, we support the very marketing machine from which the myths offer their illusory escape.
Far from informing sensitivities, as did many religious writings, the media have stirred up our emotions in a quest for extremes. The success of Mel Gibson’s recent religious film, The Passion, has been ascribed to the fascination of a sado-masochistic drama that would be denied a film censor’s rating were it not about a story of religious submission. Audiences find in the film an emotional intensity that satisfies the addiction of a generation whose inner life has been over-stimulated by media-manipulated emotional fixes - an intensity that may feel religious.
Perhaps, though, the film’s success is rather that indignation can be enjoyed from the comfort of a cinema seat by identification with a clear example of persecution in the past. This simplifies our emotions, and avoids our thinking of the AIDS-ridden villages of Africa where real tragedy unfolds. Compassion is redirected from the living, those with real suffering and need in complex circumstances, and is identified with a simple, stylised and (literally) projected image. Furthermore, our ordinary compassion is blunted by the intensity of media-manipulated feelings, which contribute to ‘compassion fatigue’. We may not even know that we are being manipulated.
In serving capitalism, the media create the inner life that was once formed by religion through stories of identification with the past. The Jewish father says, ‘When the Lord brought us out of Egypt’, to the child at the Passover meal. The ritual of the veneration of the cross summons up the believer’s love for her dying Lord, as the Good Friday Catholic Liturgy re-presents the Passion. But, since Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain (1948), such stories have been packaged as products. Merton sold an ideal of detachment and simplicity through his account of his conversion to Cistercian monasticism, in this and other works. The sale of his books not only attracted scores of aspirants and novices to the Abbey of Gethsemane, where Merton was at one time Novice Guardian, but also filled the bursar’s purse and paid for the extensive rebuilding of the abbey for those who looked to share in those ideals. This early marketing of the monastic ideal has been copied often since, even earning the Benedictine ‘Buckfast Abbey’ in Devon the name ‘Fastbuck Abbey’.
Such a marketing of religious ideals is repeated in the contemporary marketing of Celtic spirituality or Paganism, in which a nostalgia for a romanticised past is not just the selling of a utopian dream: it is the selling of a harmony with nature that makes us yearn for a peace denied by urban life. Religious ideas are particularly amenable to this kind of marketing. They offer a hope of integration and wholeness; a sense of either belonging with the majority or of being an outsider alongside the ‘outlaws’ of an indigenous Christian remnant or persecuted pagan past.
But anti-religious ideas, such as the selling of secular ideas of individualism, are also rather too tidy in a largely religious world. Secularism provides the myth that others sof 65 May 2004 Religions that seek to use the media, seeing them as vehicles of communication, are themselves reductive, or will become so. They are also naive if they believe that the media are value-free and without their own agenda — for the media serve the interests and values of capitalism. TV evangelist broadcasters such as Chicago's Paul Rader and Los Angeles' Charles E. Fuller, for example, work with an impressive empire of TV stations and networks. These commercial networks present the message of Christianity in a way that evokes an emotional response and successfully solicits financial support to sustain the networks’ funding and global expansion. TV evangelism reinterprets Christianity according to the interests of the media and the manipulated emotional intensity of media entertainment. Many of the values that have historically been central to Christianity are reinterpreted or replaced by the media’s commercial agenda: charity to meet one’s neighbour’s material needs is replaced by charity to meet the TV network's agenda of creating spiritual and emotional needs in the neighbour for the media’s benefit.
In such a context we can easily lose sight of the debates in which the Sea of Faith, and others exploring religious or humanistic ideas, engage. If we want simple and emotionally convenient answers, we reduce the complexity of religion to simple feelings that bypass complex emotions.
The simple summary that religious beliefs are human creations should not bypass an exploration of the value of those religious beliefs or, indeed, the use of religious beliefs in stirring emotions. Rather, through the exploration of religious stories and mythic narratives, we can come to an appreciation of shared cultural stories, and an insight into how these are used in today’s media age.
Andrew Furlong 12 Tubbermore Road Dalkey, Co Dublin, Ireland As Trevor Greenfield mentioned my name in his 'A Brief History of Radical Theology Part 9’ (SOF 64), I would like to clarify what I said.
— Andrew Furlong, Dalkey, Co Dublin, Ireland
Oliver Essame Letters’ Editor SOF Gospel Hill Cottage, Chapel Lane, Whitfield, Brackley NNI3 5TF e-mail to oliver@essame.clara.net I have now read Don Cupitt's latest challenging and fascinating book Life, Life several times, as well as the two contrasting reflections on it in SOF (No 64, March 2004). My view is that I need further clarification of his thoughts and feelings. I hope he will share his response with us all through our SoF magazine.
I agree with him about seeking to transform our world, but am unable to share his utopian optimism. He wrote, ‘By changing the way ordinary people see themselves and their world, and by changing the political and economic arrangements under which they live, we can make everyday life paradisal. It can be done. It's up to us. There is no excuse for not adopting, and battling to realize, the Edenic vision.’ (p.5) It seems to me that his commitment to ‘humanitarianism in social ethics’ (p.137) and to ‘human solidarity’ (p.137) could form the basis of a global ethics and of a conception of what gives people the opportunity and capability to live out a good human life.
Firstly, I’d like to know what is implied by the sentence ‘There is therefore no excuse for not adopting, and battling to realize, the Edenic vision.’ For instance, does it mean that there is a moral imperative in the claims of the underprivileged that they too should benefit from development? And if so, in his view, what is this moral claim based on? I note that the concept of development underlying the UN Human Development reports is described, in those reports, as a normative one, based on an intuition that the citizens of a state exert a moral claim, in the political arena, that their basic human capabilities should be developed.
Does he agree that the concept of development is an evaluative concept requiring normative argument? Or if not, why not?
Second, I need to know how he proposes changing the values many people live by and the political structures in which they live (so that the Edenic vision may be realised).
How, for example, would he challenge the immoral values that underlie the many forms of gender injustice in our world and how should we work to remove the powers and privileges of men?
Third, it seems to me that an awareness of human suffering and the world's injustices tends to stir up feelings of outrage and to evoke a spirit of defiance in many people who (like him) claim a deep ethical commitment to changing our world. I am concerned by how little those who seek to work against our world's injustices will find their anger and their defiance fuelled by reading Life, Life, but I may be mistaken in this concern. It worries me that some of the tone of this book seems to be resignation, ‘Try to complain about one's own fate not at all.’ (p.16) How can I express such sentiments (of not complaining) to the teenage girls raped and mortally affected by AIDS in Mugabe's terrorising youth camps? How can I say it to the widows in certain Hindu castes who if they go out of their homes to look for work will be beaten, but who know that if they stay at home they will starve to death together with their children? How can I say it to grieving families in Iraq who have had a member of their family killed in an unjust war?
I didn't dismiss the whole of Cupitt's writing as ‘a mess of postmodernism’ (SOF42). I said, ‘Cupitt is a distinguished heir of half the English radical tradition: its struggle to de-supernaturalise God. But he squanders the other half of his birthright for a mess of postmodernism when he ignores or jettisons ...[this same tradition's]... struggle for political liberation and justice.’ I still think Cupitt's account of the history of the internalisation of God in After God is brilliant and convincing. My criticism was of the inane complacency of the views expressed in his Kingdom Come, in which the word ‘justice’ barely occurs; in which he suggests that the Kingdom has ‘rather extensively’ come already; and ‘nothing is deep’ because ‘in post-modernity we are no longer worried because we do not believe in progress any more.’ These criticisms accord with Paul Overend's criticisms in his review of Cupitt's new book Life, Life (SOF 64).
What I find odd in Cupitt is the assumption that just because God is ‘non-real’ (his confusing term meaning, here, an idea that exists in the mind rather than 'out there’), it follows that human beings and the earth are also 'non-real’. Perhaps Cupitt is not a pure idealist who believes that 'matter isn't matter’ but he certainly seems to believe that 'matter doesn't matter’. As Overend puts it: ‘Cupitt appears to ignore the increasing recognition that human life does involve a relationship with the physical environment, in which the sustaining of human life requires ... stewardship...’ Cupitt has brilliant philosophical insights but his theology is perverse. He is simply not interested in Christianity’s central idea of incarnation. He applies the docetic heresy univessally.
Even (or, as I believe, even more) after God has been desupernaturalised, the Christian incarnation story has great human and religious richness. For example, various liberation theologies hold that the only place where Christ's body can be found on earth today is in the ‘crucified people’, the poor, the exploited, the tortured, and that their struggles for liberation are the completion of Christ's ‘resurrection’; and for this ‘glorious freedom of the children of God' with justice and peace on earth, the whole of creation has been ‘groaning in travail until now’ (Rom.8:22).
Incarnation means the body matters, both each individual body and the social body, and as Overend points out, the body of the Earth herself. It is notable that even Cupitt's ethical thinking is disincarnate, individualist, whereas some highly desirable ethical objectives can only be gained by physical activity or collective activity. I think it is because Cupitt lacks this incarnational insight that, despite the fact that he is clearly aman of goodwill, his philosophical acumen can be accompanied by such unfortunate views about the real world.
Dinah Livingstone 10 St Martin's Close London NW1 OHR www.katabasis.co.uk I have only just read ‘A Mess of Postmodernism’ by Dinah Livingstone (SOF 60) and have found it perhaps the best of many other thoughtful contributions in the magazine as well as refreshing that the editor could give space to a view that so profoundly differs from the Sea of Faith’s chief founder.
— Dinah Livingstone, London
Her critique of Cupitt’s ‘happiness with democracy’ reminds me of Walt Whitman’s remark that ‘Democracy is a word the history of which has yet to be written’. I don’t think he meant that this political system was only then in it’s infancy, but that the concept itself was so profound that it would take a very long time for it to mature and develop.
The millions in poverty and despair and lacking even basic education cannot partcipate properly while struggling to survive, and certainly wouldn’t be able to compete with press barons, TV presenters and charmed media personalities, nor should they want to. True democracy can only be learned as people learn to emphasise and understand each other in the relative intimacy of local face-to-face communities and enclaves and not through manipulative virtual realities constructed by others.
— Graham Carey, Bingley, West Yorkshire
Graham Carey 6 Granville Terrace Bingley West Yorkshire BD16 4HW The editorial ‘After Religious Humanism’ (SOF 63) provoked David Boulton (Postbag SOF 64) to defend humanism as ‘all that is left when supernaturalism is abandoned as a cruel illusion’. This contrasts with his suggestion that ‘we can best value and learn from other religions and other philosophies ... when we come to see them as, like ours, wholly, gloriously, but fallibly human’. To see Christianity, Islam or any other religion whose adherents have a realist view of God through SoF eyes does not make that religion humanism, so humanism is not all that is left. Of course all religions are human creations, created apart from one another and therefore differently conceived — how else could they exist? They combine culturally important elements giving identity and providing ways of celebrating and giving meaning to life events, moral teaching, and spiritual regeneration. When we engage with people of other faiths we discover our shared humanity and are less likely to ignore the human needs of others. Providing satisfying, meaningful, spiritually uplifting, hope engendering, experiences that allow the mind its freedom is not something that religious humanists have regularly achieved outside contexts such as Unitarian or Quaker meetings, both of which tend to cater for realist and non-realist perspectives.
After religious humanism? A market place of human religions, new and older, no doubt including religious humanism, sharing, comparing and valuing one another’s insights. Where will SoF be in all that? Can SoF encourage us to explore and practice satisfying religion? Better still, could SoF engage with those from the old religious traditions who are aware of the dangers of literalism and dogmatism in religion and who see an acknowledgement of our human role in religion as a helpful step towards sharing religious space (as Jonathan Sacks put it)?
— Jane Howarth, Little Waltham, Essex
Jane Howarth 98, The Street Little Waltham Essex CM3 3NT Ever since I became a Boy Scout some 60 years ago, I have been familiar with the kind of subsistence back-to-nature routine that Emma Orbach talks of in the March SOF.
In my experience, to endure such voluntary deprivation gives one less time to meditate on the finer things of life while one gets wet wood to boil the kettle.
— David Fraser
David Fraser Newton Cottage, Pilgrims Lane Newton CV23 0ED I don’t buy Mr Michaelis’ tribal sod busting culture (Towards a spiritual environment, SOF 64). However it started, I fear it would end very conservative and bad for women.
In parts of the West, women have at last got a toehold.
This is because many of them can get good jobs, are therefore independent and, to a greater extent, their own women. That in turn is due to economic prosperity, which is due to that much-despised phenomenon, global capitalism. I know that this has been made possible by some exploitation, but the outcome is not all bad if a dint is made, at any rate here and there, in the dismal patriarchy that largely prevails. An independent woman in our society needs to be mobile, technically adept and ‘street wise’.
Recently my family has suffered somewhat. Mr Michaelis is over fond of the word happy. The only thing that’s made me happy is listening to recordings of Franco Corelli (God rest him). For this I need CDs, a player, electricity, and the national grid. True the whole thing may crash, starting with the national grid, but I don’t think it’s axiomatic that the human race should survive at any price.
Why are Sea of Faith people so humourless?
— Anna Sutcliffe, Leeds