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What is religion? This is not just an intellectually fascinating question, but one that bears heavily on religious education. For how should we define what we study? And how does that definition impact on how we should learn about it?

Ninian Smart, perhaps the most influential scholar of religions of the last century for religious educators, identified seven dimensions of religions: ritual, mythical, experiential, institutional, ethical, doctrinal and material. This framework represented a departure from the methods of theology for the study of religion, and was intended to help comparison between religions and to demarcate religions from non-religions. It has been used to design curricula in schools and universities worldwide.

There is undoubtedly logic to Smart’s dimensions, but they have been substantially critiqued, particularly when applied to religious education. For example, Smart’s dimensions obscure the nuances of religious identities, replacing them with a rigid and fixed notion of religion that does not capture the complexities of contemporary religious practices that quite often ignore the institutional, ethical or doctrinal.

Another problem with Smart’s dimensions is that they have led some to presume similarities across all religions. For example, according to these dimensions ritual washing in Hinduism or Islam could be treated as expressions of the same anthropological universals and therefore as near-equivalents. While there are interesting parallels between religions, this approach actually glosses over the radical differences between faiths. It also represents a particular theological perspective that can be traced to the liberal theology that developed out of the European enlightenment.

In this blog, I focus on an aspect of religion that cuts across Smart’s ritual, experiential, material and institutional dimensions: the role of the senses.

Writer S. Brent Plate argues in his excellent book, A History of Religon in 5½ Objects that we should think of religions as opportunities for apprehending ourselves and the universe with our senses, not as abstract belief-systems. His argument is compelling. Religious practices in different religions often comprise similar sensory experiences: the touch of stone, the smell of incense, the sound of music, the sight of symbols, the taste of food. Recent research about the formation of children’s religious identities supports this view. For example, Sissel Ostberg demonstrates how primary socialization of Muslim children in Norway includes the unique sensory experiences of attending Mosques.

The senses are often thought to be those of sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch. But we can add awareness of temperature, movement and pain to these. Religions practices use, and are founded upon, all of these sensations. These practices give meaning to sensory experiences and in turn, vitality is given to religious practices through them. The spiritual power of this two-way relationship, Plate argues, is connected with the existential condition of being an embodied person.

I give the example of the popular pilgrimage to Lourdes as an illustration. For even the most dedicated believer, a visit to present-day Lourdes may seem like a visit to a Catholic- themed amusement park. On first-sight, the distinction between pilgrimage and tourism may appear to be blurred. The streets, lined with kitsch neon-lit souvenir shops, resemble those from an abandoned English sea-side town. You can buy a St Bernadette bottle-opener from a shop called ‘Mysteres-Marie’, or any number of Lourdes-themed knick-knacks.

But the commercial outward features of the infrastructure needed to host many visitors belie the intimate and collective sensory experiences that the pilgrimage offers. The rock of the grotto where the Apparition of the Virgin Mary appeared to St Bernadette is smooth from the thousands of hands that have reached out to touch something more transcendental than the elemental stone. The slow movement and sounds of the rosary in the processions bring the body into sync with hundreds of strangers by the light of candles.

But perhaps the most powerful sensory experience is taking a bath in the miraculous spring waters that the Apparition of the Virgin Mary told St Bernadette to drink. Next to the grotto, volunteers assist in this efficiently-organised operation in a specially constructed bath-house. One first enters a cubicle where all but the underwear is removed. Next you go into the bath area where, removing everything, a wet towel is wrapped around you. Prayers are then said by the attendants before you are lowered backwards into the shock of the cold water while looking up at a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes.

One of the problems of philosophy is the epistemic status of sensory experiences. For you could know everything about this cold bath – the history, the atomic structure of water at that temperature, the cult of Lourdes etc. – but you would not know what it is like to be dipped in it unless you tried it. It is the totality of circumstance and existence that give religious rituals enduring force.

Here we also find a problem in the religious education of the senses, however. If we wish to enter into the sensory experiences of believers we must assume at least something of their position as practitioners of that religion.

Smart and Plate’s approach do not help us here very much as religious educators. For while ritual bathing exists across many religions; its practice is located in different revelatory claims. Smart himself believed that as religions represented the same yearnings of humankind, belief in one could be supplemented with the beliefs of another. But as I have argued before, this kind of thinking can lead to a paradox of inclusivity when used as a basis for religious education, because not everyone shares this universalism.

Religious practice is undoubtedly connected with sensory experiences, but sensory experiences only have religious meaning when combined with religious devotion. (It is for this reason in part, some have argued that to know other religions; one must first understand a religion from the inside.) However, it is not ethical, legal nor reasonable to impose or recommend such experiences and practices to students in non-confessional religious education.

The problem remains then, without the novelty and reality of the unusual sensory experiences offered by religious devotions, in religious education classes, students and teachers may be left with the more ordinary experiences of the everyday. If we take the religious education of the senses seriously, this neutrality could perhaps hide the real meaning of religions from any student of them.

Everyone knows religion can divide opinion. There is a plurality of views, religious or otherwise, strong and less strong, about the ultimate order of things, and to the extent religions should impact on civil society. Much work and thought by religious educators since the inception of state-funded education in 1870 with Forster’s Education Act has been made to ensure publicly-funded and consumed religious education is balanced according to the prevailing attitudes of the day and political and religious status quo. In the Victorian era, this was to provide a non-denominational, non-partisan but Christian-education based on the Bible. This was palatable to the elites at the time, although there was some dissent.

Since the 1970s there has been a conscientious and self-conscious effort to create a subject that is not only broadly Christian but represents all the major religions represented in Britain, and that does not advance any particular religious position or any promotion of religion. One key principle of this broad approach is the necessity of being ‘non-confessional’. To be non-confessional, religious education teachers, classroom resources and pedagogical methods must not proselytise, or confess, any specific or general religious beliefs.

Much has been written about this and good questions abound about non-confessionalism. Is it possible to be neutral about religions? Is it possible not to promote religions in general given that religions are the object of study in religious education? Since Britain is increasingly secular, why should there even be a non-confessional study of religions?

My point in this blog is to advance another related question, and that relates to theology, which surprisingly, as I have argued before, is often ignored in debates about religious education. Indeed, religious education in England is not characterised by the content or methods of academic theology. Religious education teachers do not need to have degrees in it; syllabuses are not based upon it and students not taking A level Religious Studies would not know what it is. Yet, I think that religious education is inherently theological. Moreover, I contend, everyone has a theological position about religious education whether they would like to or not, and whether they know they have or not.

My argument is simple. ‘Theos’ (God) and ‘ology’ (the study of) is relevant to many areas of human endeavor. Christian theology as an academic discipline has evolved over the millennia along with the Christian church, but it has been primarily concerned with the study of sacred texts, religious ethics and systematics – the project of ordering religious thought into a coherent system. Other religions have theologies too. They are concerned with similar questions but use the resources of their own traditions.

While theology centres around questions concerning God, once the worth of seeking answers to questions raised by the possibility of God is assumed, it becomes apparent that everything has a theological aspect. How does God impact on the meaning and purpose of Art, for example? How may God relate to the conduct of military personnel on the battlefield? Equally, what about business ethics, ecology, racism, feminism, political systems? The list goes on. There are also theological questions raised by education, and educational questions raised by theology.

So, what would a theology of religious education be? This would be an examination and statement of how religious education relates to God, and the questions raised by the existence of God. These include knotty, but perhaps familiar problems such as: what claims about God does a particular form of religious education entail? How should different religions and their claims about God be represented and appropriated? What theological principles undergird the curriculum? What theological ideas guide the role of the teacher? Indeed, it would seem that while many things have a theological aspect, religious education, as a subject concerned with religions, may be particularly susceptible to theological problems.

Confessionalism assumes that religious education has the mandate to instruct according to religious truths. A confessional theology of religious education would therefore partially consist in a justification of those truths according to the theology of that religious tradition. For example, a broadly Christian religious education comprising a study of the Bible assumes that as the word of God, the Bible represents a key aspect of the religious knowledge necessary for everyone to know the truth.

A more perplexing theological question is raised by non-confessionalism, however. What view of God is entailed by the principle of not teaching according to a particular faith? The primacy of the individual’s conscience in religion is certainly a Christian principle that is important here, both conceptually and in terms of the political history of this pedagogical view. The liberal theological claim that all religions contain some fundamental truths about God has also been important for the development of multi-faith religious education.

When saying anything about God, we make some theological claim. Even if we contend God cannot be known, that says something about the nature of God. Similarly, if we argue or assume God does not exist, we make a claim about the ontological status of God. As religious education professionals, therefore, it is likely that we are always making theological assumptions. The question remains, therefore, what is our theology? Teachers can ask this about any aspect of their practice, big or small. Thinking this question through enriches and develops the understanding of the task of religious education. Also, I would suggest, it is the beginning of a fascinating journey.

If there is one BIG Idea that should be explored in more depth in RE it’s the meaning and significance of plurality.

What does it mean to ‘be religious’ in a modern plural world?

There is not much doubt that we are seeing a quality of teacher-led debate about RE that gives great optimism for the future – if only the powers that be would allow the debate to be reflected in high status provision for RE in all schools. There is still a need to Realise the Potential!

Discussions after Chris Selway’s recent post on Save RE about breadth and/or depth in RE typifies that quality with valuable contributions throughout. One from Pat Hannam caught my eye. So here are some extracts (thanks Pat, and apologies for the edits!):

“Rather than counting religions … I think it comes down to giving children and young people the opportunity to attend to …… the lived lives of those who would count themselves as religious or non-religious. The ‘study’ of religions has problems so long as we objectify what is subjective and do not cultivate the dispositions and skills in children to open up to the significance of plurality ….. Another danger is that religion or non-religion is only presented to children and young people through the eyes of the Abrahamic traditions – that is in general propositional belief and about practice; which is not the complete picture”.

But first – gender identity. One of the most dramatic social and cultural shifts in recent years has been the re-evaluation of the notion of gender identity. The notion of a simple binary of male/female is being exploded in front of us. And schools are quickly responding by rethinking the shape of much sex and gender education policy and practice. We could discuss religious responses but that is not my concern here.

I don’t know what proportion of the population live outside the ‘traditional’ male/female binary; but my guess is that it is a relatively small, albeit important, minority. But the proportion of the population who no longer fit into the standard binary religious categories (Christian, Hindu, Atheist etc) is much higher – much, much higher!

Given we are so sensitive in education to the need to acknowledge the lived reality and complexity of gender identity , does RE show an equal commitment to the lived reality and complexity of religious and non-religious identity? My sense is that the answer is generally – no!

One possible explanation is contained in this quote from Prof Detlef Pollack: “The growing plurality in the religious field undermines the social validity of religious convictions and withdraws their plausibility, which is taken for granted as long as these convictions are shared by the majority”.

Does RE pay serious attention to pluralism? In one obvious but rather limited sense the answer is yes. RE is now multi-faith and even includes non-religious world-views. But this is clearly not quite what we mean by plurality of identities. We use ‘Many Christians do X’ OR ‘Most Muslims believe Y’ – but that is not the same as seriously investigating the idea of pluralism as a lived reality.

Isn’t the reality that many (most) people live with plural religious and secular identities? Most people do not experience a sense of ‘commitment’ to one religion or belief. Being a ‘committed Christian’ is not the norm for most people who might loosely identify with that religion. We live in a world in which we negotiate pathways between religious and secular worlds. This is the social reality of religion and belief in modern life. That is the stuff of RE. It is the job of RE to investigate that complex plurality. It is not the job of RE to try to challenge or re-dress that complexity.

Philosophy or the social sciences?

Which brings me to philosophy; endless RE topics focused on philosophical issues around the existence of God etc. We tend to focus our critical enquiry into religion on the discipline of philosophy. Why?

I suspect it’s because philosophy of religion is abstract and safe. It does not, in reality, threaten traditional religious orthodoxies. Few people make decisions about their beliefs on the basis of the abstract arguments of philosophy. Dare one suggest that for most people philosophy of religion could be seen as intellectually challenging but existentially barren?

If we want to get inside the skin of religion and belief in the modern world, we need to engage with the idea of pluralism. If you want to engage seriously with the idea of ‘making sense of the lived reality of religion and belief’ you need to shift to embrace more of the perspectives of the social and human sciences.

So – if there is one BIG Idea that should be explored in more depth in RE it’s the meaning and significance of plurality. What does it mean to ‘be religious’ in a modern plural world?

There is no doubt that in some countries in the world Christians are persecuted either because they are targeted by extremists, or because some governments are suspicious of the political influence of Christian churches. Not so often considered are more mild forms of anti-Christian sentiment and prejudice in countries with a strong presence of Christianity historically, such as England.

For teachers of religious education, the attitudes and experiences of students towards Christianity are well worth considering. This is because when teaching about Christianity, teachers need to be aware of the ‘starting point’ of their students, and also they need to understand what it is like to be a Christian in a lesson that relates to Christianity (that could be religious education, history or other subjects).

In Britain, fewer young people practice Christianity than in the past. Quantitative research shows there has been a ‘drift from the churches’ over the years (to use the words of Professor Leslie Francis whose work gives good evidence of this). The question remains however, of how students who do not practice Christianity may perceive and treat students who identify as Christians.

Christians’ experiences of anti-Christian prejudice are relatively unexplored in sociological research. In fact, starting with the work of Harvard psychologist Gordon Allport in the 1950s, the scientific study of prejudice has been largely concerned, perhaps justifiably so, with the study of Christians’ prejudices towards other religions.

In an academic paper published last week I consider the nature of anti-Christian attitudes among adolescents. The study set out to explore what kinds of anti-Christian attitudes and prejudice may exist. To know how frequent or severe incidents of prejudice or discrimination may be, we would need another kind of study.

My methods were simple. I interviewed groups of Anglican, Baptist and Catholic secondary school students who regularly attended churches and who identified as Christian. They reported incidents of anti-Christian name-calling (slurs), bullying, labelling and aggressive questioning about their faith by non-Christian peers. They also perceived some teachers and lessons to be biased against Christian beliefs and practices. This was a small-scale study, but the reported experiences of the participants had some coherence, from which I drew the following tentative findings.

1. Christianity can be perceived as ‘uncool’ by non-Christians (and therefore considered as ‘uncool’ by Christians themselves).

Adolescents often have status-hierarchies in their peer groups. This means some adolescents are considered more popular than others. Participants believed being openly Christian could contribute to them being less popular than others who had no religion.

2. Slurs and insults could be used against Christians

Participants reported incidents when peers would use anti-Christian slurs or insults. For example, ‘bible-basher’ was commonly reported as used to ridicule someone with strong religious beliefs. Sometimes these actions were considered as bullying as they were repeated and were intended to cause harm.

3. The ‘Dawkins effect’

Participants reported being challenged about their faith on intellectual grounds by their ‘non-religious’ peers. They were asked questions about the credibility of religious faith in opposition to that of science, and why would God create suffering. Some participants said their peers quoted the views of Richard Dawkins to them in order to do this.

4. Religious education lessons did not necessarily help

Some participants believed that religious education lessons could prompt their peers to question or ridicule their Christian beliefs. Topics such as the problem of evil could raise questions that they believed they were not equipped to answer satisfactorily in classroom debates.

5. Some teachers were perceived to be biased against Christianity

Research shows that some religious education teachers may position themselves as atheists in order to bring religion into the classroom. Some participants thought their teachers were biased in this regard, particularly if those teachers did not, or were unable to, justify Christian beliefs or practices to students.

6. Anti-Christian prejudice is perhaps more acceptable than other religious prejudices

Anti-Semitism and Islamophobia originate in Muslims and Jews’ historical statuses as perceived outsiders in Europe. Anti-Christian sentiment is more likely to be associated with progressive ideas that are positioned against invested power structures, however, such as the Church of England. This may mean that anti-Christian sentiment is considered more acceptable than other religious prejudices. For, if, as Gordon Allport defines it, prejudice is a case of mistaken or poor judgment, prejudice must involve an element of irrationality. However, if one presumes hostility to Christianity is rational, then it follows that anti-Christian prejudice is not a prejudice. This can be seen as a distinctive characteristic of anti-Christian prejudice.

7. Anti-Christian prejudice has some similarities with other forms of religious prejudices

While anti-Christian prejudice is not related to perceived negative racial or ethnic attributes, like other forms of religious prejudice, anti-Christian prejudice does has historical, negative tropes and stereotypes. Moreover, also like other prejudices it is based upon the perceived inferiority of a group of people.

More research is needed to understand the extent of anti-Christian prejudice among adolescents in Britain. However, this small-scale study raises pertinent questions for practitioners. Anti-Christian prejudice presents a challenge to teachers of religious education who have to teach about Christianity in a secularised context where criticism of Christianity is considered a right associated with religious freedom, or a morally or intellectually superior position. According to the perspectives of young Christians at least, the fine line between this ongoing debate within society, and the ridicule and undermining of a minority of students and their sincerely held beliefs, needs to be marked out and drawn carefully – perhaps most of all in the religious education classroom.

A full text of the academic study on which this blog is based can be found here.

Last week the British Humanist Association wrote to all schools, SACREs and other professional bodies involved in RE celebrating and supporting the inclusion of humanism within the RE curriculum. These are some personal reflections on the success.

There are two areas of celebration – policy and practice.

On the policy front, last autumn saw the major legal victory in the High Court which has enshrined in law the principle that has been the practice of many – that humanism and non-religious world-views (NRWV) should be fully included within RE. The legal judgement is inevitably couched in technical language but the BHA has rightly decided that all interested parties need access to the detail. Crucially the High court judgement states that: “statutory RE in schools without a religious character must be ‘objective, critical and pluralistic’ and a syllabus that covered religions in detail but did not give pupils the opportunity to learn similarly about a non-religious worldview such as Humanism would not meet this requirement.”

For fuller details see: https://humanism.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016-04-28-FINAL-High-Court-ruling-on-Religious-Education-legal-guidance.pdf

It is an important step forward although there is still work to do to make sure this judgement is fully enshrined in policy. Some local authorities and SACREs have work to do to include NRWV such as humanism in their agreed syllabus. Secretary of State Morgan needs to do another U-turn in her thinking and recognise that the law is the law whatever her personal opinions might be – but happily she’s getting good at U-turns. The All Party Parliamentary Group (APPG) on RE also needs to review its fairly disgraceful decision to exclude NRWV from its remit.

At the level of practice, Luke Donnellan, the Head of Education at the BHA, has been working hard to develop the rich bank of resources for schools under the banner of ‘Understanding Humanism’

http://understandinghumanism.org.uk/

I would encourage everyone to take time and look at what is available. It’s a rich source of guidance and materials.

Luke and his team are there to provide advice and support. For more information please contact him on luke@humanism.org.uk I think it would be right to call this a ‘work in progress’ and Luke is very keen to work with teachers to evaluate and develop the materials further.

Why is this a cause for celebration?

The inclusion of humanism in RE is a victory for equality and fairness. BUT it is much more than that. It’s the way the study of humanism can enrich the RE experience of young people that is a greater cause for celebration.

Consider the ‘big ideas’ that the study of humanism offers the student of RE the opportunity to understand:

• That there are many people who live happy, fulfilled, meaningful and good lives without religion – and some of them are humanists.
• That there are forms of experience which celebrate life without God – and these include humanism
• That there is a very long and healthy tradition of humanist thought both inside and outside religion – and a movement like the BHA is one expression of that tradition.
• That there are many people who challenge the idea that religions offer credible ways of finding out about the world in which we live – and some are humanists.
• That there is diversity within all religious and non-religious traditions – and this is no less so within the movement of humanism.

And there are many areas of critical debate about humanism which students will want to explore, such as:

• Does humanism provide a fulfilling response to questions about the meaning of human existence?
• Are all humanists atheist and is it possible to be a humanist and still have a positive view about the value of religion?
• Is the humanist trust in science and reason credible?

And, while increasingly the RE community is incorporating humanism as a legitimate area of study, humanists themselves need to reflect on the significance of the values and culture of RE. All humanists should:

• embrace a culture of open enquiry, genuine curiosity and respect for the diversity of religious and non-religious views in our pluralist world
• avoid the pitfall of stereotyping religion, setting up false ‘aunt sallies’ which are too easy to knock down
• adopt a positive tone in debate, avoiding the rather strident, aggressive style that characterises the writing of some humanists (and, yes Richard, that includes you!)

Finally, I think the RE community can be grateful to the tireless support for RE provided by the officers of BHA over the years – most recently through the good work of Andrew Copson and Richy Thompson serving as officers on the Board of the RE Council.

Several of my blog posts have touched upon the political and social problems facing Europe and their relevance to religious education: increased religious intolerance and extreme far-right groups; the refugee crisis; acts of terrorism; and the ongoing conflicts along Europe’s borders.

The reason I have done so is because religious educators often find themselves counteracting the negative effects of these events upon British society. In classrooms all over the country, teachers and students encounter religious prejudice and intolerance due to our unsettled times. Consequently, these problems form the basis of discussion, teaching objectives, and unfortunately, suffering for some.

In the debates and developments about the nature and purpose of religious education, social and political problems are also often considered to be key in dictating policy and practice –or even used to justify the worth of the subject.

I have made the point elsewhere that although a good religious education will have the corollary effect of improving social cohesion and security, we need not diverge from the traditional discipline of Theology. Moreover, I have argued that cultivating respect for other religions does not necessarily conflict with the exclusive truth claims of religions. Indeed, multicultural societies may even be best served by non-inclusive or confessional religious education (and certainly not by relativism).

However, it is difficult to stay out of politics. This is because everything important is a political issue – and students know it more than anyone else. I remember on February 15^th 2003 when students in schools all over the UK walked out of their lessons to protest against the invasion of Iraq. As a religious educator forever extolling the virtues of curriculum stalwarts Martin Luther King and Gandhi – great moral leaders who spoke out against what they believed was wrong – it seemed strange that this genuine and unprecedented civil disobedience should be met with disdain because it contradicted school rules.

Thirteen years later and we are, arguably, struggling with the consequences of this occupation and other destabilising military interventions. Those students who protested against the war in Iraq were not security experts or military strategists (and I certainly am not), but in some sense the protests were a heartening indication that the education they had received them had not failed.

Since the 1970s, religious education in the UK has become a key part of intercultural education situated in a wider political and social move towards multiculturalism – the creation of an open meritocratic society where people of all races, national origins, and religions can flourish. In the post-colonial era, Britain – with its liberal traditions of fair play and tolerance – provided the perfect conditions for such a vision to be enacted.

The challenges that Europe presently faces have caused an increase in the sentiment that the multicultural project has somehow failed. People say that refugees cannot integrate, and that minority populations represent a security threat because of the inevitable ‘clash of civilisations’. Consequently, we see an increase in political movements to retreat from international cooperation and close borders.

While it is true the future is not at all certain, we cannot equate the challenges we face with the failure of multiculturalism. My experience as a religious educator is one of the reasons I believe this. I have worked in schools with diverse classes of students who had origins from all over the world: multiple languages, different religions, and varied cultures. What has struck me is that when cultural differences come to be examined themselves as part of the curriculum (as in religious education), students often engage with these issues with enthusiasm in a spirit of optimism and respect. That is not to say there is not crass ignorance, prejudice or bullying, but that multicultural education, when done well, really can provide an antidote to these problems, mostly likely with some longevity.

Cosmopolitan centres such as London, are, of course the best indicators that multicultural education and multiculturalism work. The diversity of London is what makes it a global economic powerhouse, a leader in cultural innovation, and one of the most exciting cities to visit. And it is in a place like London we can find social and artistic movements that turn the seeming intractable problems we face on their head.

One recent experience I enjoyed that confirmed my opinions on these matters was an informal performance of an up-and-coming band, The Turbans, above a grocery store in North East London. They are just one niche example of the kind of creativity a multicultural cosmopolitan environment can foster. Indeed, the very raison d’etre of this act is multiculturalism. It is a collective of musicians with origins in a range of cultures and musical traditions, including Turkey, Bulgaria, Israel, Iran, Italy, Greece and England. The music is both progressive and traditional. And now, it is also hip. (This is interesting because the aesthetic and roots of the music are located in those cultures that have been perhaps been previously disregarded outside of the Near- and Middle-East).

At the concert were gathered fashionable young professionals of various backgrounds who were there for principally one thing only: to dance and have a good time. In the comfortable and open atmosphere created by the entrancing music and the energy of the musicians, people let themselves go, smiled, and danced.

Perhaps religious educators should not pass judgement on foreign policy nor music. In my case, they certainly should not dance. But if the heat and fun of this dance floor alone were not a good argument for multiculturalism, I do not know what would be.

Failing to distinguish between these phrases strikes at the very heart of our subject.

In a recent paper, Rethinking RE: Religious Literacy, Theological Literacy and Theological Enquiry (http://reonline.org.uk/blog/rethinking-re-religious-literacy-theological-literacy-and-theological-enquiry/), four Diocesan RE advisors discuss the issues of religious literacy, theological literacy and theological enquiry in RE, emphasizing the importance of theological literacy and theological enquiry as a way into discussing the ‘big concepts’ around religion and belief.

However, although this paper provides a useful discussion and makes a valuable contribution to the debate, it muddies the distinction between religious literacy and theological literacy in a way that, to me, seems highly problematic. This blurring of definitions is emphasised in a recent blog by Kathryn Wright, one of the paper’s authors, which suggest that those who talk about religious literacy and those who talk about theological literacy are, although using different language, essentially talking about the same thing (https://kathrynfenlodge.wordpress.com/2016/05/05/are-we-speaking-the-same-language/).

It seems to me that aligning theological literacy with religious literacy removes a conceptual distinction that is essential to the identity of RE and RS. As recently expressed by Alan Brine (http://reonline.org.uk/blog/thinking-theologically-in-re-part-2/), at its most basic level, the purpose of RE/RS is the impartial study religion and belief. The subject itself comprises a number of different disciplines, each offering a distinctive set of materials, reflecting disciplinary engagement with religion and belief, and each offering a distinctive methodological approach and set of skills. Anthropology, for example, offers rich descriptions of the lived experiences of people from different belief traditions and the meanings they attribute to their actions and beliefs, as well as the methodological tradition of ethnography. Sociology of religion, offers vital datasets and analytical writing about population trends and attitudes in relation to religion and belief, as well as a methodological approach rooted in surveying the population. Theology offers key texts of scholars making sense of belief and doctrine, as well as methodological approaches related to theological enquiry and textual analysis. Other disciplines would include psychology, history, philosophy etc.

In religious education both the products of these disciplines can be studied and the methodological approaches can be used as a lens in a wider investigation of the phenomenon of religion and belief. To do theology or to do anthropology means working inside these disciplines; RE and RS sits outside these disciplines, drawing on their work and methods. As such a distinction between studying and doing is essential.

To me this is exactly what RE and RS is all about – bringing different disciplinary approaches together for the impartial study of religion and belief. As such, religious literacy can be defined as:

• understanding this rich range of disciplinary approaches to religion and belief,
• the ability to use interdisciplinary materials and methodological lenses to study religion and belief,
• having an understanding of the phenomenon of religion and belief in its abstract form and in its specific manifestations (religions and beliefs).

Theological literacy is something entirely different. It is being conversant in the materials and methods of just one of the disciplines that make up RE and RS. As such, although important, it should have no more priority in our subject than sociological literacy or anthropological literacy! To attempt to prioritise theological literacy and even to blur the boundaries between theological and religious literacy, feels like disciplinary appropriation. It narrows of the diverse range of approaches that make up our subject reducing it to just one discipline.

To me, this strikes at the very heart of our subject’s identity. It reduces our ability to look at religion and belief in a holistic way that impartially draws on a rich range of materials and approaches. Talking about theological literacy and religious literacy isn’t just a matter of taste or different ways of talking about the same thing. Words matter and there is a huge conceptual gulf between these two phrases. Making a distinction between them is essential if we are to maintain a rich, diverse and interdisciplinary subject.

Dr James Robson is the Knowledge and Online Manager at Culham St Gabriel’s and a Lecturer at Oxford University Department of Education.

Following from my first blog on the theme of ‘thinking theologically in RE’ I want to turn to the new paper Rethinking RE: Religious Literacy, Theological Literacy and Theological Enquiry http://reonline.org.uk/blog/rethinking-re-religious-literacy-theological-literacy-and-theological-enquiry/

It is a stimulating paper which makes a major contribution to the debates around the meaning of ‘religious literacy’ but I wonder if there are a number of questions which need to be unpacked.

1. The writers suggest ‘theological literacy focuses on the big concepts upon which religions are founded, such as God’. This attempt to universalise theology to apply to all religions (and non-religious world-views?) is problematic. Can we really talk about Buddhist or humanist theology?
2. Later they quote Gilson in suggesting that theological enquiry helps pupils understand religion ‘as a synthesis of ideas capable of undergirding every aspect of life’. There is a suggestion that theological literacy will bring ‘life’ to the dry bones of religious enquiry. Their cathedral image has overtones of this ‘infusing life’ analogy. However, impartial religious enquiry would also have to embrace the very commonly held view that those theological concepts are highly contested and quite legitimately seen by some as meaningless.
3. What is not quite clear is whether ‘theological enquiry’ is being understood as:

• a particular pedagogical approach which “in the context of Church of England schools …..enables pupils to hold a theologically informed and thoughtful conversation about at least Christianity as a living and varied faith”

OR

• whether it is part of the general study of religion and belief – that aspect of study which focuses on what Smart would call the doctrinal’ dimension of religion. Is theology part of the subject matter rather than the pedagogy of RE?

The paper’s thinking is extended in the Tree/Roots analogy and it is here that I have the gravest concerns. The implication is that theological enquiry is about ‘deep learning’ and contrasts with the surface learning of religious literacy. To quote: “working below the soil requires tools that can dig deep, whereas different kinds of tools are required to tend the branches and leaves”. This analogy is extended later in the paper where it suggests “in the same way that Jacob wrestled with God… ‘digging deeper’ into religion or ‘thinking theologically’ is about wrestling with the deeper meaning and impact of key concepts.”

The danger is privileging theological enquiry as the way into deepening learning in RE. There is an unresolved hint that this would be a way of affirming the distinctiveness of RE in Church schools. BUT at the heart of this lies a hidden attempt to market a particular understanding of Christianity which undermines a core ideal of religious literacy i.e. the impartial study of religion and belief. There are a number of different ways to deepen learning in RE. These need to kept in tension and no one discipline should dominate. A diversity of disciplines (history, philosophy, sociology, phenomenology etc.) can each bring a depth (the roots) to the study of religion and belief. I have serious doubts whether ‘theology’ is one of those disciplines.

I return to the quote from Prothero’s book ‘Religious Literacy – What Every American Needs to Know and Doesn’t’ when he makes this observation:

‘Theology and religious studies….are two very different things – as different as art and art history. While theologians do religion, religious studies scholars study religion.”

Theology is an academic discipline which primarily has its place within the ‘community of faith’? It is the process of reflecting on, and thinking about, faith. Students of RE can watch theologians practice their subject but cannot participate themselves. We can ask questions about how doctrines came into existence; how they developed; how theologians argue over their meaning; and, how they come to be reinterpreted in different historical and cultural contexts. But as impartial students of religion, can/should we participate directly in the theological process itself?

Does placing heavy emphasis on theology and theological concepts run the risk of over-playing what Smart would call the ‘doctrinal’ dimension of religion; the dimension beloved of the religious establishment; those who want to tell others what they ‘should believe’? This lies in tension with the goal of religious literacy which should resist this attempt and focus instead on the lived reality of a religion in all its diversity, dynamism, complexity and confusion!

Is the reality of many people’s religious identity that it is lived without reference to theological concepts? Privileging those concepts as the ‘core’ of the religion is in danger of imposing a particular view of orthodoxy on the way we study religious life.

As far as the RE curriculum is concerned – we need to remember that for many (most?) people, including many who would self-identify as Christians, theological concepts and processes probably play little or no part in their lives.

My guide tells me to put on some glasses for a 4D experience.

‘I know 3D, but not 4D!’ I exclaim.

‘Just don’t put your bag under the seat’, she replies.

It is the year 3761 BCE. The seat begins to move and the sound system rumbles. We are taken through the ancient history of the Jewish people beginning with Genesis and ending at the creation of the diaspora.

The animation is brilliant, and the choice of information succinct, judicious and informative. The dramatic sensory experience makes the story come to life. During the great flood water is sprayed on us while the chairs rock back and forth. The insects of the ten plagues buzz and fly out towards us.

As I hand the glasses back and walk out into an impressive array of traditional and interactive exhibits I realise the potential of technology to enhance the impact of museums on those who may not find ‘cabinets of curiosities’ engaging.

The Moscow Jewish Museum and Tolerance Centre is housed in an iconic 1920s constructivist bus depot originally designed to house a fleet of British Leyland busses. It is the largest Jewish museum in the world and it is extraordinarily busy. After the introductory film about the origins of the Jewish people, I explore the other exhibits focusing on the history of Judaism in Russia and Jewish culture more generally.

The imaginative displays combine an engaging and interesting overview of the themes, and the option to find specific information when you would like it. Most striking for me was an interactive café where – sitting among statues of coffee-drinkers past – it is possible to learn about the lives of Jews who lived in the Russian Empire during the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries by scrolling through projections on the tables. (Fortunately, all the information is available in English and Russian.)

The visitors are a mixture of international tourists and Muscovites. On week-days I am told there is an ongoing programme to invite all the school children from the city. The story of Jews in Russia is particularly interesting for a foreigner. Previously, I knew little about how the holocaust also took place on Russian soil during the Nazi invasion, or how Jews were treated during the Soviet years. For example, I did not know that the iconic T 34 Tank had a Jewish designer or that for many years Jewish citizens had ‘Jewish’ written in documents as their official ‘nationality’. The overall narrative ends with a clip from a speech by Vladmir Putin explaining how Russia’s spiritual renewal requires a celebration of its rich religious culture, including Judaism.

The museum celebrates the contribution Jewish cultures have made to Russia and the world. During my visit, there was a wonderful exhibition of Russian avant-garde art by Jewish artists collected from regional art galleries all over Russia, and an exhibition of photographs of New York taken by the pioneering ‘Photo League’ between 1936 and 1956 (when it was denounced in the second ‘red-scare’).

The history of Jewish people in Russia makes an excellent starting-place to examine issues surrounding tolerance more generally. The Tolerance Centre, found in the same building, makes an excellent job of this and also utilises cutting-edge technology. But technology can only make an impact if it is well thought-out, and although I am a natural critic of anything faddish, the tasks on a class-size fleet of ipads impressed me.

There are several electronic questionnaires and excellent though-provoking short films. I was somewhat disconcerted that my ‘Tolerance in communication’ score was only ‘average’. Thinking back over the questions I remember selecting ‘Sometimes true’ to the question: ‘Are you bored by conversations with people who you consider intellectually inferior to you?’ I obviously did need to visit this museum to develop and reflect upon my tolerance of others. Fortunately, however, in this museum the intellect is always stimulated – despite also engaging with all the senses.

Putting aside the cost and difficulties of travel (and obtaining visas for British citizens), The Moscow Jewish Museum and Tolerance Centre would be an excellent location for a trip for religious education professionals and older students. For those daunted by the travel, however, the English-language website is also well worth a visit.

In our troubled times, it is heartening to see the core values and aims of a broad religious education promoted in such an international, perhaps exotic, setting.

The issue of the place of ‘theological enquiry’ in RE is one of growing importance and will become more significant with the launch of the CofE/REToday resource on Christianity later this term.

A new paper Rethinking RE: Religious Literacy, Theological Literacy and Theological Enquiry https://www.reonline.org.uk/blog/rethinking-re-religious-literacy-theological-literacy-and-theological-enquiry/ produced by four key Diocesan RE Advisers makes a positive contribution to addressing the recommendations of the 2014 Church of England report ‘Making a difference?’ about the need to:

“promote the development of pupils’ ability to think theologically”.

My reading of the paper suggests there are areas that need further discussion but before turning to those I want, in this first of two blogs, to offer some broader reflections.

The 2014 Church of England report ‘Making a difference?’ argued:

“….. A balanced RE curriculum would place the goal of ‘thinking theologically’ within the context of a repertoire of other approaches towards the promotion of religious literacy drawn from, for example, social sciences and philosophy.”

In Transforming Religious Education (Ofsted 2010) Ofsted highlighted widespread confusion about the purpose of RE; in particular, concerns that Christianity, perhaps more than other religions, suffered from that confusion of purpose. The report recommended that more thought be given to the confusion about Christianity as a sub-set of the wider issue about clarifying the purpose of RE.

One of my concerns having written those reports was the danger that energy and resources would be poured into developing thinking around the teaching of Christianity WITHOUT giving attention to the wider issues about the overall shape, purpose and quality of RE.

By focusing solely on the ‘problem of Christianity’ there is a danger that the overall ecology of RE will be distorted. This takes on a more worrying dimension when put in the context of the decline in LA/SACRE support for community schools, the extension of academisation and the rise in influence of the faith school sector in RE. All of these threaten that balanced ecology of our subject.

When the ‘Making a Difference report was written it was clear that the concept of theological enquiry was not well-defined. It was a portmanteau term detached from any technical use of the notion of ‘theology’. We were searching to define a dimension of RE that was missing in too many classrooms and that would play well in the Church School context of the report.

I now realise that there was a danger that this would be taken out of context and used inappropriately. The report was trying to capture a series of different issues: why RE in Church primary schools wasn’t better; weaknesses in curriculum design; and, the role of RE in relation to the so-called Christian distinctiveness of Church schools. I wonder; did we try to be too clever in trying to link these together through “a focus on developing pupils’ ability to think theologically and engage in theological enquiry”?

In practice we were searching for a way to incorporate more opportunity for pupils to recognise that ‘theologising’ is an important part of religious behaviour. If you are to make sense of religion, the core purpose of RE, it is important not to neglect the intellectual debates that go on inside religions about the meaning of the faith.

The first recommendation of the report suggested that schools needed to provide “a more coherent, progressive and challenging approach to the teaching of Christianity within the context of the wider exploration of the diversity of religion and belief in the modern world”. The danger was that attention would be paid to the first half of this recommendation without reference to the second half.

Studying theology is something that goes on inside a religious community. Students of RE should be interested in this process as observers but cannot directly participate in it.

To take an example: the resurrection. It is interesting to find out how Christians talk about the resurrection. It raises a number of questions: How did the idea originate? How do Christians link the idea of the resurrection to other beliefs? Do all Christians understand the idea in the same way? How has the idea been re-interpreted by different Christians? What debates go on inside Christianity about it? But is there any point asking pupils to draw conclusions about the truth or meaning of the resurrection for themselves? Only the insider can do that.

Crucially what we are studying is the behaviour of Christians – we are not actually engaging in theology itself.

Stephen Prothero in his tantalisingly titled 2007 book ‘Religious Literacy – What Every American Needs to Know and Doesn’t’ makes this observation:

‘Theology and religious studies….are two very different things – as different as art and art history. While theologians do religion, religious studies scholars study religion.”

It would be a major concern if attempts were made to distort learning in RE by structuring the whole study of Christianity around a series of theological concepts and processes. That is in danger of privileging ‘theological’ faith above the lived reality of religious life. This of course might be the goal of the religious establishment who want RE to ‘teach’ the faith the way they want it taught. BUT it runs the risk of distorting the core purpose of RE – to engage pupils in an impartial, objective study of religion and belief.