"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

Christianity. The limp religion.
9:43 p.m. on 2003-11-20

I'm currently doing some work experience with a fairly major tv company as they prepare a number of religious shows filmed in churches across the North of England. My job basically consists of making tea (when a friendly, elderly member of the congregation allows me), taking notes of camera shots, and trying to be helpful without pestering people. Today was spent in a small, old, local church watching a Reverand lead several sermons for the cameras.

There's a book I own left over from my Christian phase which discusses the declining congregation of churches across Britain. To quote, "Here is the church, and here is the steeple, open the doors, and where are the people?" It felt rather like that today - with a congregation of only about fifteen, which thinned as filming took longer than expected, and a number of empty rows which had to be filmed around. Its possible that the numbers were low for practical reasons - especially when dealing with kids, it becomes easier to film with less people - less coughs, splutters, etc.

But there was the age of the congregation to consider. None of them were under thirty, and most had been holding a bus pass for a good few years.

The Reverand was "nice," a one-time manager of Jimmy Clitheroe who had found God after a Ken Dodd concert (whilst most people, I suspect, would turn to Jack Daniels as something to ease the pain of seeing Dodd). He described these events in his sermon, then 'surprised' everyone by finishing with "And I am this man, and this is the book I found in my hotel that converted me."

Everyone gasped. Well, not gasped, but looked suitably surprised and moved. Except me. I was too busy thinking "Bloody hell, he stole that book from his hotel, I don't think THAT'S a good way to start a life devoted to God, do you?"

Then there was the puppet. Oh yes, this Reverand decided to entertain the kids (who are far more impressed by the latest WWE playstation game than by a bloke with his hand up a wooden toy's ass) with the scariest ventriloquists' dummy I have ever seen. It had a shock of ginger hair (a phrase which sums up the look perfectly), a frighteningly toothy grin, and strongly resembled a charicature of an evil Tony Blair. More evil than the real one, obviously. This one needed a sharp kitchen knife in one hand and squeaky violin noises as a soundtrack.

As if this wasn't terrifying enough, I'm still recovering from the Durham Review's comedy act featuring a ventrilolquist and his dummy. Lets just say, it featured a paeodophile, his own son, and a whole lot of shit.

But asides from these anecdotal-style ramblings... While sat in the church, I came to ponder the Christian religion. One of the criticisms I could level against it (I'm speaking in generalisations here, I might add, because there are exceptions) is that as religions go, it is far too smug. There is an unspoken assumption that Christianity is quite simply the biggest, oldest, most powerful religion around. Which is quite frankly, bullshit. It ain't the oldest (because despite what my criminology teacher might think, there was history before Christ), it certainly isn't the biggest (that claim belongs to Islam) and it isn't the fastest growing either (I seem to remember from university that Mormonism is spreading the quickest). It might have a chance at being the most powerful - but I'll tell you what, it sure ain't the most inspiring.

Lets face it, the hymns aren't the most inspiring numbers you've ever heard, and those attempts to modernise the Christian sound just produce an endless series of crimes against music, usually in the form of a friendly bloke who is overly confident with his guitar, and a woman who sings okay but would get kicked off Pop Idol in the second round. The lyrics are sappy, sentimental stuff, and usually feature the words "light," "love," "heart" and a bad metaphor. Rocks and lighthouses are a familliar friend.

The sermons generally fall along the usual lines. The Reverand/Priest/Vicar/inserttitlehere is a "thoroughly nice chap" whom the old ladies love and you would trust your kids with (no topical satire intended). The church is pretty, but either its modern and suffers from lack of money, old and suffers from lack of money, or it's really old and more of a tourist attraction than a place of worship.

Its just all so ... white and middle class. Of course, there are some truly fascinating, inspiring sides to Christianity. I would love to go to a predominently black church and see a gospel choir. And the Toronto Blessing (I speak from experience) is really astounding, the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. But I sit down to watch 'Songs of Praise' and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The latest poster asking for financial support for missionaries just leaves me wondering whether Christianity isn't being a little too desperate. I understand their reasons for promoting conversion, but when a poster labels Japan as one of their targets, I start to wonder about what they're really trying to acheive. Too many people in Britain see other religions such as Judaism or Islam as something to be feared, or its members to be pitied - they're wrong, they're heathens, they need to be saved. Its the idea that this need for Christianity to save people somehow walks hand in hand with religious intolerance and the ever increasing racial tension which exists in Britain.

I'm rambling, and it might be because I'm tired, have worked a long day for zero money, and still have yet to eat tonight. Its just some vague thoughts and they are unusually serious for me.

However, even if I'm wrong on the serious points... I suspect Christianity might seem a whole lot more convincing if it didn't involve evil puppets with plans of world domination...

Listening to: Tom McRae - Walk to Hawaii

Quote: "Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction." Blaise Pascal

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