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In recent years sociologists of religion have concurred that religion is a far more complex phenomenon than has been assumed. Traditionally the discipline has focussed on the presumption that religious practice and belief is in decline in industrialised societies. But while it is without doubt religious beliefs and practices have changed and declined in their traditional forms, secularisation is now considered to be a very complex phenomenon and not a necessary outcome of modernity.

Religion is a persistent factor in international politics, and a powerful force in what we may call the ‘majority world’ – that is the world outside ‘the West.’ But religious practices continue in subtle and diverse forms in secularised, industrial (or post-industrial) societies. Most sociologists of religion accept that part of their job is to explain the complexity of these ‘hybrid’ or ‘implicit’ identifications and practices.

The example of a complex contemporary religious practice I would like to use here is that of pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago. This is a long distance walk across northern Spain to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela where tradition has it the relics of St James the Apostle, Patron of Spain, are interred.

In a context where traditional religious participation seems to be in decline in most western contexts, pilgrimage on the Camino has increased. Last year over 250,000 pilgrims from over 170 countries registered as completing the pilgrimage in the Cathedral’s office for pilgrims.

The Camino has been the subject of several best selling books, including those by Paulo Coelho and a popular film, The Way, starring Martin Sheen. These media depict the importance of the Camino as a spiritual place where the world is enchanted, miracles can happen, and where loved-ones can be remembered.

This summer I spent a month interviewing and observing pilgrims on the Camino in order to understand their motivations, experiences and practices. What is so fascinating is that although these pilgrims are undertaking the same route as the medieval pilgrimage, many of them distance themselves from Christianity. That is not to say walking the Camino is not a significant spiritual practice for them, however, or they will not visit Churches, or pray. Many pilgrims have beliefs about the sacred nature of the trail itself or New Age beliefs about the pilgrimage as an ancient phenomenon with a magical power that pre-dates Christianity, for example.

To add to the complexity, however, in addition to a profusion of ad hoc New Age beliefs among many pilgrims, there are conservative and traditional Catholics who walk alongside agnostics, atheists, Protestants, Buddhists and Jewish pilgrims. This diversity makes for interesting, deep and sincere discussions between pilgrims who share a common search for meaning although coming from different traditions.

The route is littered with the offerings, thoughts and memorials of pilgrims, most notably at an iron cross about two-thirds the way to Santiago. Here you can stand
on a huge mound of stones placed by thousands of pilgrims and read notes and messages they have left behind – for God, the cosmos or to heal their hurts and losses psychologically.

Many of the pilgrims have profound experiences of their journey, but these are often considered as being part of a journey rather than arriving at a shrine to venerate a Saint. For this reason, the route has been extended from the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela to the sea at Finisterre where I observed a mass ritual of watching the sun go down at the most westerly point in Spain.

I suggest that the complexity of contemporary religious practices and positionings, such as those of the Camino de Santiago present a significant problem for religious education. This is because contemporary practices are so complex in nature and are often constructed in opposition to the established structures of religious traditions – while also resting upon them in some sense.

The prevalence of New Age beliefs on the Camino is a good case in point. You do not need to identify with the New Age movement or believe in it to practice or agree with some principles of it. In some sense New Age attitudes are ubiquitous – even among Christian pilgrims. These include valuing a heightened appreciation of nature, dedicating the walk or parts of it to loved ones, or placing rocks on way markers.

However, the New Age movement is not a religion as such and New Age-type beliefs could easily be interpreted as syncretist or controversial by some parents and students when included in religious education. But the problem is more subtle and difficult than that. For how do we explain and teach about a postmodern pilgrimage which many undertake in the spirit of a personal search with no recognised or established rules? It is religion in a very real sense, but not as we know it.

If we ignore the complexity of contemporary religious practice we fail to show students how widespread and relevant religion is in society. If we include it, we risk either endorsing or rejecting contemporary forms in favour, or to the detriment of, their historic antecedents. Nothing is ever simple in religious education, and that is why it is so interesting.

The sociologist of religion Peter Berger was one of my heroes as a student. Writing in The New York Times in 1968 he famously said: ”By the twenty-first century, religious believers are likely to be found only in small sects, huddled together to resist world-wide secular culture”.

But, equally famously, by 1999 his message had changed dramatically when wrote in his book ‘The Desecularisation of the World’: “The assumption that we live in a secularised world is false. The world today, with some exceptions… is as furiously religious as it ever was, and in some places more so than ever”.

In a fascinating play on Dawkins’ God Delusion, Berger suggests the theory that ‘modernisation equals secularization’ has turned out to be the delusion. The theory argued that there was an inevitable process whereby modernisation will mean religion will diminish in importance in society and in the lives of individuals.

Berger has come to reject this simplistic link between modernisation and secularisation because, in his words, “the theory seemed less and less capable of making sense of the empirical evidence from different parts of the world”.

What can Berger’s ideas offer RE?

Crucially, he offers insight into the changing patterns of religion in the modern world – and the clarity of his thinking is a joy. He also brings credibility to the idea that the social sciences can play a major role in helping re-define the RE curriculum.

In recent years Berger has been working on what he calls a new paradigm to understand religion in the modern world. There is much we can use to explore ways of promoting pupils’ understanding of the contemporary world of religion and belief.

Berger has developed his thinking into 6 Theses about his new model to understand religion in the modern world; learning from Luther, Berger ‘nailed them to the door’ of the Veritas Forum in 2015.

This Youtube clip offers a brilliant summary punctuated by good humour. 30 minutes of your life you will spend and not regret: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62zSU-U9GGE

Four of his Theses he describes as sociological where he hides behind what he delightfully calls the ‘antiseptic mask of objective social science’!

Thesis 1: Contrary to what many people believe, we don’t live in a secular age….. we live in an age best described as pluralist. This pluralism means two things. First, that we see many different religions and beliefs living, mostly, in peaceful co-existence and accepting the human rights’ principle of freedom of belief. Second, and crucially, that a secular space exists which lives in interaction with that religious pluralism.

Thesis 2: Pluralism undermines the ‘taken-for-grantedness’ of traditional religious certainties. While some may still claim certainty for their beliefs, pluralism challenges that certainty. Mobility, urbanisation and mass communication have undermined the certainties of traditional ways of life which underpinned those certainties. Those who express certainty now seem out of kilter with the spirit of pluralism.

Thesis 3: In modern societies, ‘churches’ (or any other religious/belief group) have become voluntary associations with religious affiliations becoming a matter of choice. People no longer have a fixed religious identity based on their family or place of birth. Religions and beliefs now operate in competition with one another.

Thesis 4: Modern societies create essential ‘secular spaces’ in which science, the arts, technology, politics, education, the law etc. can operate free of religious domination. Effectively these aspects of modern society operate ‘as if God did not exist’. The emergence of secular spaces is the valid part of the secularisation theory. The dividing line between religions/beliefs and this secular space is complex and has to be constantly negotiated. …. hence the lively debates around the place of faith schools on the education system of modern societies.

If we apply these ideas to religious extremism, it can be argued that this phenomena stems from the inability of some to come to terms with the reality of pluralism and the notion of secular space.

Berger’s other two Theses he describes as theological. They are more personal and derive from his Protestant Lutheran background. They also point to the personal enrichment that comes from RE.

Thesis 5: Pluralism is good for you! It offers a new understanding of faith in clear contrast to knowledge. Faith is something you trust but don’t know. Berger believes this is good for your spiritual health.

Theses 6: Pluralism helps you identify the ‘core’ of your belief and distinguish this from those elements which are marginal, dispensable, transitory and non-essential.

So – there some really important concepts/big ideas derived from the social sciences that we need to incorporate into our RE curriculum.

Pluralism…. Secularisation…..Secular Space etc. etc.

These might look scary but are they any more challenging than terms like incarnation and redemption?

Anyone interested in reading more of Berger’s thinking might like to check out:

http://www.social-sciences-and-humanities.com/reading/BERGER,%20Peter%20L%20-%20The%202000%20Paul%20Hanly%20Furfey%20Lecture%20-%20Reflections%20on%20the%20Sociology%20of%20Religion%20T.pdf

Last week saw a vital discussion on Save RE about whether the Ahmadiyya faith can be classed as Muslim. It reinforced a key issue at the heart of our RE world – who decides how to define the boundaries of a religion?

It is always fascinating how a social media space designed for RE professionals becomes a context for a debate between believers. Some get stuck into the argument; while others watch the process as an intriguing example of the internal controversies which characterise religious and belief communities. But in this case the issue was more than just an interesting academic debate.

Lying behind is the tragic story of the persecution of members of the Ahmadiyya movement and particularly the death of the Glasgow shopkeeper, Asad Shah. Libby Brooks’ article in last week’s Guardian explores the issues. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/apr/09/shunned-for-saying-theyre-muslims-life-for-ahmadis-after-asad-shahs

If you missed the social media debate, these are the two key links:

http://www.mcb.org.uk/position-statement-the-muslim-council-of-britain-and-ahmadis/

http://www.loveforallhatredfornone.org/ahmadiyya-muslim-community-uk-response-to-mcb-statement/

The key issue is how to define, and who should define, the boundary of Islam. The Ahmadiyya community describe themselves as ‘a dynamic, fast growing international revival movement within Islam. Founded in 1889, it spans over 206 countries with membership exceeding tens of millions.’ A account of their key beliefs can be found on their official website: https://www.alislam.org/introduction/

The carefully worded statement by the Muslim Council of Britain states the view that, “Messenger Muhammad, peace be upon him, is the final prophet and whoever does not subscribe to that declaration cannot be eligible for affiliation with the MCB. Given this fundamental theological difference with the Ahmadi community, the MCB is not in a position to represent or be represented by the Ahmadi community.”

A key section in the Ahmadiyya response states, “it is not for anyone or any organisation to determine who is and who is not a Muslim. Everyone has the right to self-identify as a Muslim or as the follower of any faith for that matter.”

So what are implications for RE?

The issues are all very familiar but worth rehearsing because they always need re-examination in the light of changes in the dynamics of our subject.

It raises important questions about who should define the content of the RE curriculum.

These are central questions for the RE student and the RE curriculum:

• Who owns a religion or belief?
• How do we go about defining its boundaries?
• Whose interests are being served by the way we define those boundaries?
• How do religious authorities try to control these boundaries?
• How do religions or beliefs go about debating these questions?
• What should we investigate in order to ‘understand’ a religion or belief?
• Is there any such thing as, for example, Islam– or just lots of different Islams?
• At what point do we alert pupils to these issues and their complexity?

I recall a recent conversation with a colleague about the teaching of Christianity. Our discussion was about what we should teach about Christianity and who should decide. Should RE concentrate on the official teachings of the churches? Should we focus on the beliefs of what might be described as ‘committed Christians’? Who decides who they are?

One of the exciting consequences of the recent effort to re-focus the RE curriculum on knowledge and understanding of religion and belief is that it re-opens again these issues. Who approved those lists of content in the GCSE criteria? Where are the opportunities for pupils to explore the highly contentious issues about defining the boundaries of a religion?

As students of RE I assume we leave our personal beliefs ‘outside the door’. On a personal note I am aware that official definitions exist about humanism on the BHA website- but the BHA has no authority to decide who can or can’t call themselves a humanist.

At what point do we alert pupils to these issues and their complexity?

I think this is perhaps the most important question we need to address. My own answer would be – as early as possible. This is a key idea at the heart of RE. It’s more than just rolling out the protective mantra ….‘some X believe’.

In defining the RE curriculum we need to listen to representatives of religions and beliefs – then remember that it is difficult to decide who can represent a religion …..and then keep those alleged representatives at a respectful distance!

There will be many who will argue that we should protect younger children from the complexities. Teach them the ‘basics’ first and explore the complexities later. But this just recycles the problem – who defines the basics of a religion and in whose interests?

My tedious mantra comes back to haunt me: As a core principle, RE needs to reflect the complex lived reality of religion and belief.

My last post suggested that there was a paradox of inclusivity when it is claimed that an overarching inclusive form of religious education can cater for the religious education of everyone. I now move on to examine another conceptual problem that I suggest exists when relativism is assumed as a justifiable basis for religious education.

One assumption about inclusive or multi-faith religious education sometimes held by students, teachers, and parents is that religious education is best understood as resting on a kind of relativism. This popular view can be explained like this. Since religious preferences and indeed, religious experience and knowledge are not objective, what is true for one person is not true for another. Therefore a good religious education allows individuals to hold their own views, and this need not conflict with others’ views or the enterprise of religious education itself. This assumption arguably reflects a long-standing British attitude to religion of ‘each to his/her own’ and can undergird teachers’ perspectives about teaching, and students’ understanding about learning.

But on closer inspection, this kind of relativism has religious, philosophical and pedagogical implications that make the business of conceptualising religious education problematic.

The position of relativism dates back as far as the 4th century BCE when Protagoras famously stated that ‘Man is the measure of all things: of the things which are, that they are, and of things which are not, that they are not.’ This is an expression of the epistemological view that there is no objective truth. Knowledge is relative. A critique of this view forms the basis of the Platonic dialogue The Theaetetus. Today relativism comes in different guises from Protagoras’ crude formulation of ‘what is true for me, is true for me and what is true for you is true for you’ to more recent and subtle forms such pragmatism and postmodernism.

Relativism was advanced as a viable conceptual foundation for religious education by Clive and Jane Erricker (2000). The Errickers’ argument rests on the position that no body of knowledge has a special status over the students’ own ‘true-for-me’ knowledge. As there is no objective grounding to morality or religion, the curriculum cannot be based on any shared moral or spiritual understanding. In today’s world there is no alternative to relativism as truth claims are radically disputed and while there are often attempts to establish consensus these just show how fractured understandings of reality have become. If indeed, truth is constructed rather than found out it means that we have no common references by which to establish any legitimate views. In the realm of religion this is exemplified by the post-enlightenment view that faith is radically subjective.

The problem with such an argument is that it soon starts sounding like an objective theory in itself – harbouring all kinds of subjective presuppositions about the nature of religion, and of right and wrong. Indeed, such views conflict with many religious and non-religious beliefs and positions. And herein lies the philosophical Gordian knot of using relativism as the basis of pedagogy. If we assume relativism, we have no justification for a pedagogy, or for being professional educators. As Plato notes in the Theaetetus:

If, as we have repeatedly said, only the individual himself can judge of his own world, and what he judges is true and correct: how could it ever be, my friend, that Protagoras was a wise man, so wise to think himself fit to be the teacher of men and worth large fees; while we in comparison with him the ignorant ones, needed to go and sit at his feet – we who are ourselves each the measure of his own wisdom?

(Plato 1990:285)

What Plato is stating here is that if all knowledge is relative, why listen to a teacher? Indeed why teach? A relativist foundation to education does not give itself the epistemological legitimacy to assert itself. There are further problems for relativism as a basis for religious education in particular, most importantly that religious knowledge as conceived by mainstream religious traditions is seldom relative, but based on revelation (a deeper reality if only known in part). Furthermore, relativism does not provide the conceptual means to challenge harmful narratives and dangerous stereotypes.

Of course, we may agree that it is good to allow students to explore each other’s views and their own stories. We may also strongly agree that it is educationally unjustifiable to ‘silence’ students’ personal narratives just because they conflict with some of the worldviews studied in religious education. However, to ensure these essential elements of an inclusive and open religious education, it is better to rely more on the professional values of the teacher than upon an epistemological position. For as Plato attacked Protagoras, why should students listen to their teachers if they cannot say anything of any objective value? And how may teachers think responsibly about their craft if they cannot think themselves as saying something about the nature of a (at least partially) knowable reality? This is no less true now than in the days of Ancient Greece, but is perhaps now more widely assumed.

References

Erricker, C. and Erricker, J. (2000) Reconstructing religious, spiritual and moral education. London: Routledge

Plato (1990) The Theaetetus. Trans M.J. Levett and revised by M. Burnyeat. Indianopolis: Hackett.

Let’s consider a single village in Andalucía, where there lives a singular image of a single moment. Allow me to introduce you to Padre Jesús (Father Jesus), if you do not already know him.

Castillo de Locubín (Castillo) is an ancient pueblo in the Sierra Sur de Jaėn. Ninety per cent of the 4,381 Castilleros work in olive oil production. Ninety-eight per cent are indigenous Spaniards, largely descended from those settled here after the Christian conquest of 1341.

Every September Castillo’s feria is held in honour of Seňor Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno (Padre Jesús). The high point of the week is his procession through the streets. The atmosphere of pasión oscillates between devotion and celebration.

What meets the eye is enough, but there’s more. Who is Padre Jesús? Why does he generate so much emotion? His cult is present throughout the Latin world. He represents Jesus on the way to Calvary at the moment of deepest resignation, despair and acceptance. Obviously the doctrine of the Trinity doesn’t name Jesus as ‘Our Father’, but in Andalucía the practice is widespread. Why? Maybe referring to Jesus as ‘Our Son’ would put you above him, ‘Our Brother’ on the same plane. I’ve wondered if referring to Jesus as ‘Our Father’ implies that we inherit our condition from him. Padre Jesús might be viewed as an expression of our own deepest resignation, despair and, ideally, acceptance. It’s a mystery that Castilleros don’t question.

     Jesús es hijo de Dios, no?

     Si, claro.

     Pero si Jesús es hijo de Dios, por que se llame Padre Jesús?

     Muy bien pensado. Pero no lo sé.

     Jesus is the son of God, isn’t he?

     Sure.

     But if he’s God’s son, why is he called Father Jesus?

     That’s a good one, I don’t know.

My conversation partner has been a devotee of Padre Jesús for eighty-three years. I’ve also met people who refer to Padre Jesús as Abuelo (Grandfather).

Castillo’s Padre Jesús, a masterpiece, is attributed to Juan Martínez Montañés (1568 – 1649). Every Castillero knows how Padre Jesús arrived, but I’ve never heard it told the same way twice. A donkey was carrying him from Sevilla to Alcalá la Real. An overnight stop was made in Castillo. Awake, the donkey was overcome by a profound sadness and would go no further. The Castilleros interpreted this as a sign that God willed Padre Jesús to stay, and La Ermita de Seňor Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno (La Ermita, or ‘the shrine’) was built on the spot, to house him for ever. In other versions, the donkey died. In others, Padre Jesús refused to move. La Ermita dates from about 1700. It isn’t the parish church. That’s San Pedro Apostol, built during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Compared to typical Andalucían church interiors, it’s austere.

My intrigue increased when I saw a photo of the original interior.

I constructed an explanation by reading local history and asking friends. Both ways are difficult. The twentieth century history of Castillo is painful; people who have lived long enough to remember it usually want to forget it. This, Franco’s censorship, the subsequent pacto del olvido (bipartisan decision to forget the Franco era) and high levels of illiteracy (probably about 60% here in 1960) combined to create a paucity of sources.

However, it can be said reliably that at the outbreak of the Civil War in 1936, San Pedro Apostol was set on fire and vandalised by anarchists and communists. The adornments were ripped out. Though this was a national pattern, and anarchism and communism were particularly influential in rural Andalucía, it’s hard not to connect the desecration with the episode known as El Crimen de Castillo (in 1898, the curate of San Pedro Apostol murdered his father). Today, though Catholicism is the only religion represented here, there are people who don’t associate with it, despite its 1960s turn from defence of privilege to social causes. It isn’t always a straight question of Catholic or not. Individuals might say: I’m a Catholic, but I don’t like priests, or go to mass; or, I’m a Catholic, but I don’t really have time to be; or have a cultural connection with Catholic traditions, such as processions. A Facebook group of 175 people exists just to enjoy images of Castillo’s Holy Week.

What does this have to do with Padre Jesús? That’s a related story. Calle Antonio Olmo is an unremarkable street named after a remarkable man. Antonio Olmo Romero was an agricultural worker and the treasurer of Castillo’s Brotherhood of Padre Jesús. On the night of October 3, 1936, aware of the danger to the Padre Jesús image, he spread a rumour that it had been burned, then moved it to a secret hiding place, only replacing it after the war. You could say that Padre Jesús was entombed for three years then resurrected. In the post-war phase of economic stagnation, Castillo’s population halved, and Antonio Olmo Romero was forced to move with his family to a farm about a hundred kilometres north; but every year for the following forty, until his death, he returned to Castillo to lead the Padre Jesús procession. Thus, Castillo’s Padre Jesús embodies rich folk memory (these stories are passed down rather than written down) and a curious double Easter symbolism.

So again, why does Padre Jesús generate so much veneration in Castillo? We’ve seen how answering the question requires investigating the mythology. For the religious, of course, Padre Jesús himself exercises notable charisma. Many Castilleros make regular visits to La Ermita. Recently, I happened to meet my next-door neighbour as she was going in. I asked her if there was a Mass. No, she said, as if it was an ordinary event, I’m just going in to see God. True, not all Castilleros have religious devotion, but evidently there are other ways and reasons to identify with Padre Jesús.

The theology of Padre Jesús is profound. The single moment encapsulated is the climax of the incarnation. But the local contextual, historical and emotional factors are undeniable. Padre Jesús may be worshipped all over the Latin world, but the affective experience for Castilleros is uniquely theirs.

Clearly there are lessons for RE here. It’s not just about ensuring balance between doctrinal, ritual, narrative, experiential, social, ethical and aesthetic dimensions, vital as that is. There’s a folkloric dimension, perhaps this dimension cuts across the others, though in Castillo I think it’s distinctive. It’s the power possessed by stories passed down orally, to generate local identity and meaning. Castillo’s religious folklore is unique, but Castillo is not unique in having one. When planning the curriculum, we should be alert to this. Who knows what might be uncovered in an English village, suburb or inner city area? Actually, I do have stories of that kind to tell, and am sure that readers will have some, too.

The way that insights into religion tend to ease pedagogy is instructive. We shouldn’t rely overly on written texts or ‘key beliefs and practices’. The experience of verbally uncovering meaning is enjoyable and rich. I have a so far unrealised project of a dialogue between school students and residents of an old people’s home, essentially cross-curricular but fruitful for RE. I’ll just offer one more suggestion, photo-ethnography. Set children a challenge to decipher a thought-provoking photo of the local area. Put it on screens around the school, and where the local community can see it. Ask: Who? What? Where? When? Why? What did it mean to those present? The children will add questions of their own. And: How will you investigate? How will you communicate your findings?

Try it out. You’ve been given plenty to go on. Decipher this one yourselves.

Dr Kevin O’Grady teaches part-time at Colegio Primario y Infantil Miguel Hernández, Castillo de Locubín. From 1986 to 2015 he taught and led RE and related subjects in various English secondary schools, from 1995 to 2007 he was a member of the Sheffield Standing Advisory Council for RE and from 2007 to 2015 he was Associate Fellow in the Warwick Religions and Education Research Unit. He is a full member of the International Seminar on Religious Education and Values.

The mantras of ‘Doing More with Less’, ‘Depth not Breadth’ and ‘Making RE more challenging’ are welcome.

There has been a rush towards implementing these ideas in the design of the RE curriculum. Two recent blogs made useful contributions to the debate and we can see the influence of the E.D. Hirsch’s ‘knowledge-based’ curriculum at work.

https://tolearnistofollow.wordpress.com/2015/03/30/which-knowledge-should-you-teach-from-the-bible/

https://missseftonreligion.wordpress.com/2016/03/31/making-our-re-curriculum-more-academic/

The forthcoming publication of materials on the teaching of Christianity reflects some of this drive to focus in more depth on less.

But these moves raise very serious and fundamental questions:

• Are we clear and in agreement about the central purpose of RE?
• What do we mean by ‘religious literacy’?
• How do we go about defining and sequencing the core content of the RE curriculum?
• Who is going to make these key decisions on behalf of the pupils in our schools?

I can see some trends emerging which suggest that we may NOT have sorted out these fundamental questions.

Is RE primarily about reinforcing a heritage/orthodoxy model of religion?

OR

Should RE primarily reflect the complex lived reality of religion and belief?

The debate reflects unresolved differences of opinion about the nature of religious literacy and how to address its ‘so called’ decline.

For some, addressing the decline of religious literacy is about trying to recapture a (probably illusory) lost heritage when folk acquired a body of knowledge about (in the case of Christianity) the bible and church teaching. It is about making sure young people know what a ‘committed/orthodox’ member of a religion believes and practices. Hidden inside this approach is the view that RE should be about addressing and arresting the decline of religious influence in our society.

This model focuses strongly on knowledge about religions, usually giving primacy to Christianity. It is the model that underpins much of the structure of the new GCSEs and it’s a model beloved of some faith communities and conservative politicians. Doing ‘more with less’ means focusing on teaching knowledge of fewer religions in more detail.

But many question this model for three broad reasons.

1. It is a model driven by the religious establishment who want their version of the religion to be taught. The church has failed to capture the attention of the modern world ….. so it wants teachers to re-dress their failure.
2. It ignores (or wants to attack) the reality of lived religion and belief in the modern world with all its complexity, messiness and diversity. Religious/belief identity is no longer in the control of the religious establishment. RE needs to reflect that lived reality.
3. It is hard to see how this model addresses the needs of young people. If most fail to see any relevance of orthodox religion for their personal lives – so be it. But they do need to know enough to engage intelligently, meaningfully and openly in discussion about religion and belief. They need a vocabulary to talk about the lived reality of religion and belief in the modern world. BUT they probably don’t need deep knowledge of scriptures etc. – that is the job of the religious communities themselves.

So we have an alternative model of RE primarily focused on that lived reality of religion and belief. A model that explores, for example:

• the nature of religion and belief itself;
• the big questions about religion that pupils want to discuss;
• the changing nature of religion and belief in the modern world;
• the relationship between religion, belief and spirituality;
• controversial issues about the truth, meaning and value of religion;
• issues around the nature of religious language
• questions about the nature of religious/belief identity in the modern world.

This primary drive of this model is to help pupils develop the ability to make sense of religion and belief in the modern world, to be able to engage intelligently with real discussions about real religion and belief. It fights against the dominance of the view that RE is primarily about heritage and rescuing a lost world. It will require knowledge but is driven by focus on the contemporary.

As always it is probably a question of BALANCE!

We have limited time and space in the curriculum – how we use this to best effect is critical.

At the moment there is a very strong pull towards the first model. Some of the more recent examples being shared are very heavily dominated by the ‘knowledge of the major religions’ approach – it is one of the damaging effects of the poorly designed GCSE programmes. It also reflects the increasing dominance of ‘faith schools’ in the RE community.

It is as if we have rushed back to a traditional model to address the problem of religious illiteracy without thinking through the questions about the purpose and nature of the subject.

Okay – it’s been a big week for education and, by implication, for RE. I say ‘by implication’ because nothing in the Government’s announcements is explicit about our subject.

Lots to puzzle about – concealing the education changes inside the Budget (hiding controversial news?); letting Osborne take the limelight (is Morgan a busted flush?).

What this week’s events do confirm is timely nature of the RE Council’s planned Commission on RE. Getting our thinking clear is crucial.

The White Paper is the key and, unless I missed it, RE is not mentioned. A strange omission? Surely the changes announced have huge implications for RE. Chapter 6 on the curriculum is essential reading!

https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/educational-excellence-everywhere

Five headline thoughts:

1.  If all schools become academies, what role is left for SACREs? At first glance – none. But Local Authorities will retain some functions (para 4.77). Is it possible that, in order to avoid the potential controversy involved in changing RE legislation, the Government will leave SACREs in place as part of the LA’s residual functions? The headline on local authorities is:

Local authorities play an important role in the education system: ensuring every child has a school place, that the needs of all pupils are met and championing parents and families. They will step back from running schools and school improvement.

Difficult to see how SACREs or Agreed Syllabus work would fit into these roles – but the cynical possibility is that the Government will turn a blind eye and let SACREs simply wither away. Surely not – but we must press for clarity and resolution here.

• The GOOD NEWS – this will trigger Government action on legal change.
• The BAD NEWS – this will trigger Government action on legal change. 

2.  The future role of the National Curriculum (in an academy world) is clarified. It would “no longer be a decree, but a benchmark. It will serve an important role in setting out the sort of knowledge-based, ambitious, academically rigorous education which every child should experience” Para 6.8. This looks like good news … if RE can find a place within this new ‘benchmark curriculum’. We need to be there. At the moment we are seeing a steady erosion of a benchmark around a ‘reasonable entitlement’ for RE. Some academies are playing fast and loose with ambiguity about what they should provide. A clear Government backed benchmark entitlement for RE could mark a reversal of the erosion process. But can we trust this Government to create an acceptable RE curriculum?

• The GOOD NEWS – the government might take action to establish a benchmark national curriculum for RE
• The BAD NEWS – the government might take action to establish a benchmark national curriculum for RE

3. The strong focus on a ‘knowledge-based curriculum’ will challenge RE. If RE is to take its place in the new benchmark NC we may need to bite the ‘knowledge’ bullet. We ducked it in the 2013 REC National Curriculum Framework. But crucially – we must deal with this as a community and not let the DfE do it for us!! Big threats here. If we cannot sort out the question of core content of RE, there are others who might impose it. Some good thinking going on here but big risks as well. We need to get right back to the core question – what are the BIG IDEAS that should drive the RE curriculum? 

• The GOOD NEWS – we might sort out the issue of the content of the RE curriculum
• The BAD NEWS – someone else might sort out the content of the RE curriculum

4.  The EBacc is further embedded (para 6.24) as the CORE academic curriculum. Still a concern. Could legislative change help? Should we open up the debate about making RE non-statutory at Key Stage 4 as a trade-off for its inclusion in the EBacc? 

• SORRY – Can’t spot the good news here! 

5.  A big focus on character development and the role of PSHE (paras 6.35 onwards). No reference to RE throughout this section – a relief given the way some marginal groups in the RE community want to focus RE around the development of character dispositions. BUT there is emphasis on developing the PSHE curriculum to include “promoting …. mutual tolerance and respect of those with different faiths and beliefs, while developing the knowledge, critical thinking and character traits that enable pupils to identify and challenge extremist views”. Some stealing of RE best lines here. Tricky area of course. We don’t want RE identified with character development or social cohesion BUT we don’t want to be excluded either.

• The GOOD NEWS – RE not linked to the character development/social harmony agenda
• The BAD NEWS – RE not linked to the character development/social harmony agenda

So where does it all leave us?

It makes the RE Council’s new Commission on RE even more important – but we need to work together to anticipate any DfE/Government action on RE. We need to have our solutions in place and not let the Government impose theirs upon us.

Teaching is a profession where continued development and regular reflection on progress is integral to what it means to be a teacher. However, managing growing workload commitments and responding to what seem to be ceaseless government initiatives, the time to stop and reflect on what got you here and why you teach may be diminishing. It was in part this sense that the one thing I didn’t have enough of was time and feeling, as many teachers do stretched and overworked, that for many years put me off further study. Despite having loved academic study, I was also dissuaded by the cost attached to university courses and had some concerns that having been so many years out of it, I may even struggle to write an essay! Putting reservations to one side, I knew I was keen to do something that would refresh my outlook on Religious Education and give me the chance to think critically about the subject I love. Having done my PGCE in RE at Warwick University I was familiar with their distance learning Masters in Religions and Education and looking at the flexibility of the programme and the time I would have available to study I concluded that I would be able to manage work commitments alongside studying. Around about the same time, a colleague sent me a link to the 3 for RE scheme which offers financial support (60% of fees or £1000) on the condition that your employee also pay at least 10% and that you are prepared to share any work of interest with Culham St Gabriels. My school were very supportive so I applied and am now in my second year of study.

It would be disingenuous to suggest that getting back into studying at university level has been without challenge. The Distance Learning Programme in particular has required a great deal of self-motivation and organisation especially at those busy times of the year when exams are approaching. Now in my second year though, it is clear to me that the benefits have outweighed any such challenges though. In practical terms I have been given new ideas for content and activities. More than this though the study and the numerous questions raised have had an impact on the way I think and speak about religion and education. Does religion even exist? Is it an imposition from outsiders[i]? What is RE for? Should we as educators be given only time for critical study of religion or is it appropriate to allow opportunities for spiritual development? One of the things I’ve found most valuable has been sharing with my students, in particular Sixth Form, what I am studying and getting their feedback to some of the questions above. The conversations that we have had as a result, which would not have come about were it not for my MA, have offered insight into my own practice which after nine years of teaching, has certainly been refreshing. It has also been valuable for them to see me as a learner too and I was able to share with them feedback from my own work, both good and not so good!

Engagement with students has been at the forefront of my experience of the course so far and this was particularly so with the module last term on Interfaith Dialogue. Dialogue and sharing ideas is a feature of any classroom, particularly the Religious Education classroom. The value of this is fairly obvious, students can learn from one another’s views and experiences and faced with difference are giving the opportunity to negotiate and be more confident about their own position. In the RE classroom of course the main focus may be around matters of faith and religious practice but of course it is not likely to be limited to this. The value of dialogue is not solely in what students can learn from one another but also in development of thinking skills including listening and questioning. However the potential for dialogue to achieve all this is dependent on how it is organised and managed by the facilitator. Dialogue is not just about talking, understanding does not just come about through discussion. When it comes to interfaith dialogue, perhaps more so than other form of dialogue, this needs to be clearly acknowledged with regular reflection and agreed upon guidelines. Should dialogue be about highlighting differences or focusing on similarities? Can dialogue strengthen relationships or could it actually accentuate divisions?

To help explore these questions practically I set up an interfaith group, made up of students from different year groups and importantly different religious backgrounds (including those from none). This was made possible as I teach at a highly diverse school in Birmingham but in a different context, email contact and other forums can be facilitated to make links with other communities.[ii] Early on in our first meeting we agreed guidelines for discussion, guidelines being of great importance if dialogue is to be inclusive and student centred. Those set out by The Inter Faith Network for the UK suggested that effective dialogue should involve self-reflection and awareness that dialogue is as much about listening as it is talking[iii]. It may be difficult to communicate this clearly to younger students and that is why it is important to agree together the aims and guidelines for dialogue. The facilitator must take a prominent role in ensuring these guidelines are adhered to. Through the meetings of the group I also came to understand that one of the roles of the facilitator is to at times limit criticism so that dialogue can develop into understanding, not debate. Whilst dialogue would be limited if students were not able to disagree and question, at time there needs to be acceptance that some practices and even beliefs cannot be rationalised – it does not follow that they are any less meaningful to someone’s way of life.

It is difficult here to explain here fully the positive impact that the MA as a whole has had on my teaching but simply I wonder why I waited so long before applying! In relation to the group, I believe it has been a success in building relationships and though is very difficult to measure, this is in part reflected in the continued attendance of students who give up their lunchtime with no obligation. In terms of meaningfully breaking down barriers and reducing prejudice the impact may have been limited bearing in mind that the members of the group self-selected and tended to already be interested in different views and open to sharing their own. Nevertheless, the popularity of the group has grown and student voice has shown that at the very least, students have valued the opportunity to discuss openly without pressure of academic achievement. In terms of my own teaching though where dialogue is a feature of virtually every lesson, the group and the reflection on the effectiveness of interfaith dialogue has had an impact on my organisation of discussions. I have provided students with guidelines for discussion and in some lessons this has been modelled by volunteers before dialogue takes place. I no longer hold the assumption that just because students are talking about the topic, effective dialogue is taking place. The opportunity to reflect on theory and put it into practice in this way is one that I have valued and would recommend strongly to other colleagues as a reminder of why we teach this fantastic subject.

[i] For some interesting responses to this question see Edward Said (1985) Orientalism, Penguin, London and Wilfred Cantwell Smith (1978) The Meaning and End of Religion, Harper and Row, New York

[ii] For evaluation on the effectiveness of the use of technology in dialogue see Julia Ipgrave (2009) ‘The Language of Friendship and Identity: children’s communication choices in an interfaith exchange’ in British Journal of Religious Education 31:3 pp213-226

[iii] See The Inter Faith Network for the UK (1993) Building Good Relations with People of Different Faiths and Beliefs http://www.interfaith.org.uk/

We recently saw the ‘Britain is Christian’ debate turn its attention to RE. Last December we saw Cameron say: “As a Christian country, we must remember what his birth represents: peace, mercy, goodwill and, above all, hope. I believe that we should also reflect on the fact that it is because of these important religious roots and Christian values that Britain has been such a successful home to people of all faiths and none.”

Then a few days later this headline from the Daily Express:

“Britain is a CHRISTIAN country and children should be taught that, urges Nicky Morgan”

As usual the Express got it wrong. What she actually said was: “This Government is determined to protect schools’ freedom to set their own religious studies curriculum, in line with the wishes of parents and the local community. The guidance I have issued today makes absolutely clear that the recent judicial review will have no impact on what is currently being taught in religious education. I am clear that both faith and non-faith schools are completely entitled to prioritise the teaching of religion and faith over non-religious world views if they wish.”

But what she did say was a disgraceful dismissal of a key High Court judgement on RE issued in November stating that: “The state must accord equal respect to different religious convictions and to non-religious beliefs; it is not entitled to discriminate between religions and beliefs on a qualitative basis; its duties must be performed from a standpoint of neutrality and impartiality as regards the quality and validity of parents’ convictions”. Justice Welby v Secretary of State.

What is going on and should RE be worried?

I will leave others to explain the rather tortured legal issues. On a broader front it is clear that, under the guise of ‘school freedom’, Morgan is playing a familiar game.

Every now and then the ‘religion and moral capital’ argument is rolled out. One of the challenges to religious conservatism is why the decline of religion in the west has not led to moral and social collapse. Some do argue it has caused a descent into moral turpitude but the evidence would tend to point in the opposite direction. It is the secular west that has seen the drive for social equality and human rights, often in the face of religious opposition. The award of the Best Picture Oscar to Spotlight is warning enough!

The moral capital argument is familiar and is explained well in Stephen Law’s book: Humanism: A Very Short Introduction. It’s the idea that our religious past built up a reserve of moral capital which continues to protect our social fabric and well-being despite the decline in religious practice. It also issues a warning that this moral capital could run out and needs to be protected to ensure we don’t fall into an abyss of moral decline!

This from Bishop Richard Harries: “….many people who have strong moral commitments without any religious foundation were shaped by parents or grandparents for whom morality and religion were fundamentally bound up…. How far are we living on moral capital?”

And from the American author Gertrude Himmelfarb suggesting that we are “…living off religious capital of a previous generation and that capital is being perilously depleted.”

We saw Michael Gove argue the case in his very readable 2015 Spectator article: “Well, the kind of people who built our civilisation, founded our democracies, developed our modern ideas of rights and justice, ended slavery, established universal education and who are, even as I write, in the forefront of the fight against poverty, prejudice and ignorance. In a word, Christians.”

I do recommend the article – a timely reminder that his successor lacks Gove’s intellectual drive. http://www.spectator.co.uk/2015/04/in-defence-of-christianity/

This moral capital argument is persuasively simple. Shades of the thinking underpin the popular ‘cultural heritage’ argument; that RE should focus on teaching children about our Christian heritage so they can access our ‘cultural capital’ of Giotto, Shakespeare and Milton.

Why does this matter for us in RE?

2015 saw those three reports on the future of RE. See my previous blog: https://www.reonline.org.uk/blog/the-three-big-gamechangers/

All three reports in their different ways affirmed the need for fresh thinking about RE in the public sphere. RE needs to take full account of religious and non-religious diversity that characterises the modern world; it needs to focus on the lived reality of that diversity; it needs to avoid privileging particular religions or beliefs.

Already I think we are beginning to see something of a backlash against this call for new ideas. We need to watch out for the challenges. In particular, I think we need to be alert to the ‘moral capital’ argument that still permeates the thinking of many in public life.

And where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within. Jesus said, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you. If with all your hearts, you truly seek me, you shall ever surely find me.” If you commit yourself to the love of Christ, then that is how you run a straight race.

Eric Liddell in ‘Chariots of Fire’

This quote from the 1981 film Chariots of Fire is one of the most famous examples of the great sport/religion metaphor. If you are under 45 and haven’t seen the film – I recommend a watch. If you have seen it – always bears a re-view!

Invite a discussion amongst sports folk (and pupils) about where ‘the power comes from’ and the answers are likely to be highly diverse. Depends on the sport (compare snooker and rugby); depends on the perspective (ask a nutritionist and a sports psych); depends on the person.

Where does the power to succeed come from? Let’s try a range of options (stick with me, we get to RE soon!).

• It comes from the body: muscles, lungs and heart
• It comes from the mind: commitment, drive, self-belief
• It comes from the life style: healthy eating, exercise, disciplined sleep
• It comes from the training: skill practice, fitness programmes,
• It comes from the team: the camaraderie, the spirit of the group, the collective will

All of these can be seen as ways of explaining ‘where the power comes from’. And different people in different sports will probably identify more strongly with some rather than others. Try it out with the pupils.

All fairly obvious stuff – but does the analogy with religion have legs?

We talk a lot in RE about the impact of religion – and rush off to look for examples, positive and negative. Do we take enough time to explore different ways of analysing where the power comes from to generate the impact? Or whether the power comes from quite different places for different people.

Where does the ‘power’ in religion come from? Again let’s try a range of options:

-Liddell expresses one typical response: the power comes from inner experience. The sense of having contact with an inner invisible world which brings power and energy.

-The power comes from the rituals of religious life: the discipline and re-assurance of routine; the sense of order; the way ritual focuses the mind.

-The power comes from the narratives of the religion: the re-telling of stories and myths to inspire and help focus thought.

-The power comes from the intellectual doctrinal life of the religion: the setting out of a coherent systematic set of ideas and the process of reflecting on those ideas.

-The power comes from the ethical teachings of the religion: the teachings and core values which shape behaviour and moral life.

-The power comes from the social and communal life of the religion: the sense of belonging; the protection and security of the group; the sense of loyalty; the inspiration of others; the authority of the institution.

If religions (and non-religious world views) contain these dimensions (and of course Ninian Smart’s typology is lingering here); then one way of investigating the highly diverse lived reality of religion is to explore the way these dimensions of religious power play out in different people’s lives.

Ask any religious person: “where does the power come from, to see the race to its end?” and my guess is that you will find a complex of diverse answers playing across these six dimensions. The parallel with sport suggested by Liddell is obvious.

I am expecting 2016 to be The Year of the Big ideas in RE. I will leave others better equipped to develop this thread of thinking – but watch out for the discussions. In the meanwhile, I would stake an early claim that two of the biggest ideas in RE will be:

• Religions and non-religious world views (NRWV) are complex networks of beliefs, myths, stories, symbols, experiences, ethical teachings and social institutions
• The lived reality of religions and NRWV shows that beliefs, practices and identities are highly diverse and complex and often diverge significantly from the orthodoxy of the religious establishment.