Christian bookshops and church gift-shops are not places where I would usually expect to find books that call out to be read. The University Church of St Mary the Virgin, in Oxford, which is over 900 years old and, says Wikipedia, "the centre from which the University of Oxford grew", would have, I ween, a congregation not easily satisfied by the usual devotional pap. There I found something to pique my interest.
The term Christian atheist was coined, Mountford informs us, by the English writer of children's books Philip Pullman, to denominate a person whose culture is fundamentally Christian though he does not share the supernatural beliefs of Christianity, the main sticking-point being the existence of God. Pullman compares the Church of England part of his psyche to "a piece of barbed wire fence embedded in the bark of a tree" (p.1); it is a thing that cannot be disentangled. Christians who doubt their faith, and write books about it for Christian bookshops, generally treat doubt as a form of predictable human frailty, such as the want of faith that led St Peter to a ducking when he tried to emulate the water-walking of Christ. It's refreshing to encounter a voice within the Church that doesn't set the faithful on a pedestal above others who, though sympathetic, cannot in conscience subscribe to all the impossible things that a prescriptive orthodoxy demands of them. Faith, to my way of thinking, isn't a virtue; and having it does not necessarily confer moral benefits. Plenty of good people don't believe; and I certainly don't feel any pangs for the absence of God. At the time of my own youthful conversion to atheism, I found little difficulty in renouncing ties with the club of believers; but apparently there are many who do find the renunciation difficult.
Mountford's book opens a respectful dialogue with this unorthodox fringe of the Church flock. It would be unkind to suggest that this is just the price the modern Church must pay to shore itself up against eroding church attendance; I think Mountford’s sympathy is perfectly genuine. The introduction into his sermons of a few ideas gleaned from conversations with declared Christian atheists elicited interest and sympathy among the congregation, with some freely acknowledging themselves to be of the same mind.
"What emerged was a widespread difficulty with the supernatural claims about God, especially the miraculous and the problem of how an omnipotent God could allow evil and suffering in the world. This was counterbalanced by a strong affirmation of the communal benefits of the life of the Church, a commitment to Christianity's moral compass, and a valuing of the aesthetics of religion - the sense of transcendence that can be felt in response to art, music and the resonant language of the bible and Christian liturgy." (p.7)
This book explores the bonds that keep unbelieving members inside the Church, despite their disregard for doctrine and articles of belief. It has chapters of discussion with churchgoers who freely admit that their attendance is motivated by extraneous factors: the music, the architecture, the language of the liturgy, the connection to history, the ethical norms that the Church offers through narrative, perceived benefits for family and community, and the outreach and charitable work.
The question “How heterodox are you entitled to be?” (p.55) demands a response. Are such people, the choir Christians and the Easter-and-Christmas Christians, merely “hangers on” or has the demographic base shifted? Paul Snowden, a professor of philosophy who was interviewed for the book, thinks that adherence to certain core beliefs, he suggests “God, Christ, revelation” (p.57), are a necessary condition of belonging to the Church, and a person without some such basic beliefs is not a Christian in any recognizable sense of the word. Mountford, who takes the position that “religion is more about relationships and values” (p.56), acknowledges the challenge but reformulates it in a more inclusive way:
"Paul’s ‘God, Christ and revelation’ formulation is intended, I think, not so much to create a static orthodoxy (goal posts) as to flag up an agenda that cannot be ignored by anyone who wishes to take the Christian religion seriously, even as a hanger on. Thus the Christian Atheist will also take seriously the discussion that this agenda sets out, whatever conclusions (if indeed conclusions are possible) she eventually reaches, …” (p.58)
There is an clear distinction between the notion of a core of belief and an “agenda that cannot be ignored”, but the difficulty has been glossed over. Such a proceeding is rationally unacceptable, but Mountford is an empiricist not a rationalist, highlighting the historical context of the creation of doctrine. This book isn’t a theological treatise; it’s a discussion of prevailing ideas, with a humane bias. He urges a case for choosing a “spirit of the law” approach to doctrine over a rules approach, and privileges good actions (orthopraxy) over orthodoxy.
"Karen Armstrong’s take [Armstrong is a British writer on comparative religion] on orthodoxy emphasises action over belief. If she is right, then those who seriously engage with the Christian moral challenge are just as close to the Christian centre as those who emphasise belief in a metaphysical God. In fact, you could argue that time spent on abstracted thought about God and the contemplation of what constitutes right teaching, especially where it touches the unknowable, is an easy diversion from Christ’s call for humility, compassion, mercy and service to others." (p.72)
I’m gratified that I would be acceptable as a member of Brian’s congregation, if I were minded to apply, and that I would find other people there whose sensibilities aren’t so very far removed from my own. In the Peter Cook / John Cleese film The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970) the Archbishop of Canterbury is caricatured as a public figure who is so trendy that he’s willing to entertain the idea that Christians need not believe in God. The joke doesn’t seem so funny now; atheists professing Christianity do exist in the Anglican communion, and they’re coming out.
I’ve heard Christianity characterized as “a conversation”, probably by a speaker on a religious broadcast, and dismissed it as a faddish term intended to mystify and mollify the unbelievers; but Mountford’s Anglicanism really is a conversation, a discussion undertaken in good faith that promotes trust and mutual understanding. Blessed are the peacemakers.