As of this September I shall be training to become an RE teacher at a Catholic school in Cumbria. This has lead, as one would expect, to a heightened interest in all things RE, but more particularly an interest in the way in which it is perceived more widely through contemporary society. I don’t mean so much its standing amongst those children who have to study it – I’m well aware that RE can be remarkably unpopular (it was for me!), especially to young adolescents feeling their logical certainties assaulted by the mysteries and paradoxes of faith. Rather, I’m more interested in how the subject is regarded within the education sector as a whole, and amongst our cultural and political elites in particular.
And the impression one comes across time after time, in document after document, proposal after proposal, research study after research study, is a fundamental lack of certainty about what Religious Education is actually for, and what it should look like.
At one end, of course, there are those who maintain all religious education should have no place in state schools, as if denying children such knowledge is somehow better for their education and development. At the other end, one still very occasionally comes across those who believe Religious Education should largely be a matter of catechetical instruction, as defined by the denomination or tradition in which that particular schools rests, with only the odd foray into contrasting religions and beliefs. And somewhere in between, though much closer to the former than the latter, there are those who maintain that RE is an important part of a decent education, but that it should be strictly confined to disinterested academic pursuit, the teaching of sociological features, historical fact and cultural quirk.
And it is this latter view that seems to have been raised into unthinking orthodoxy, certainly amongst those (usually academics and educational advisers) whose job it is to construct a consensus upon what role RE should play in the life of a school and how it should be taught within the curriculum (although it does remain non-statutory – which, theoretically at least, allows a certain flexibility).
Before he retired, the Bishop of Lancaster (now Bishop Emeritus) issued a report entitled Fit for Mission?, part of which concentrated specifically on schools. The document is bold and important, and was well received by many within the Church – which means, almost inevitably, that it was poorly received by many outwith the Church (more, the Bishop was pretty shoddily attacked at a parliamentary committee by a variety of mediocrities who appeared little more than thirsty for religious, or more particularly Catholic, blood – the video appears to be unavailable, but Douglas Carswell indirectly rebuked his colleagues by asking the Bishop if he thought he would have been treated with such hostility had he been a Muslim cleric – read a report here).
Anyway, one part of the document that struck me, particularly in light of recent events, was the passage,
‘Our Catholic schools and colleges must become powerhouses of evangelisation and catechesis. Again, I must stress that evangelisation is not proselytism, which is a coercive pressure to go against one’s conscientious beliefs. Evangelisation is an invitation to freely consider and experience the truth of the Catholic faith.
I am concerned that a failure to appreciate this clear distinction between proselytism and evangelisation has led some schools and colleges to be inhibited about proclaiming the full truth of the Catholic faith, due to the presence of non-Catholic pupils.’
Whilst the very first sentence of that passage will no doubt horrify some, nonetheless the Bishop is right to draw out the distinction between evangelisation and proselytism, one that must be upheld lest religious schools merely capitulate in the face of secularising forces that wish to erode the religious character of schools on the basis of an unthinking muddle of these two very different things. As such, there is a perfectly rational and robust defence to be made here – a Catholic school should be at liberty to be, well, Catholic, and if parents freely choose to send their children to a particular school because it is Catholic, or knowing that it is Catholic, then there is no reason for that school to cease to be Catholic, nor to cease inviting its students to share in that community of faith.
Perhaps this is partly the old English habit of striving to avoid giving offence when, in fact, no offence was ever likely to be taken. What seems to be the greater factor, however, is the apparent triumph amongst many of our educational elites of the view that only objective neutrality can guarantee profitable discourse and learning (which is nonsense) and that only secularism is both objective and neutral (which is nonsense). And so it is that ‘secularism’ has become the banner under which a motley collection of ‘anti-religionists’ increasingly march, the intellectual illusion through which religious education is constantly assaulted by precisely those relativisms and nihilisms that it should, more properly, seek to counter.
Accordingly, there was little surprise when news arose recently of an Ofsted report that claimed the teaching of Christianity in our schools is of a worryingly poor standard, and increasingly transgresses even the law of the land as to the minimum legal requirement demanded of all schools in the state sector (a report that, remarkably, never featured in the pages of the Guardian – proving the paper is less about delivering news and more about peddling ideological idiocies). Christianity, it is becoming clear, is not only regarded as just one eccentricity amongst others, but is even underplayed and under-taught in relation to various other religions. This is consistent with the prejudices of a wider cultural assault committed primarily by the liberal-left – an unflinching and destructive commitment to relativism more generally, and multi-culturalism more specifically.
Or, in the words of Mick Brookes, general secretary of the National Association of Head Teachers, ”What is happening in schools perhaps reflects what has happened in society generally regarding the importance and practice of Christianity… I think certainly in the last decade inspectors have wanted to see examples of multiculturalism, diversity and the promotion of community cohesion in RE, so that is what schools have shown them’
Which leaves us in a pickle, and gives prospective RE teachers something of a minefield to navigate. And it might not be as easy as just keeping in mind the essential difference between evangelisation and proselytism, and sticking rigorously to the former – because it seems that something much more fundamental is at stake; the right to evangelise at all, or at least to evangelise the Christian faith, be it a religious school or not.
I once had occassion to read some of my child’s (9yrs) “Religious Education” and following are the first statements I came across in his work, paraphrased:
From Islam was born mathematics and science….
…..Christianity has traditionally suppressed women and adherents to this religion believe they will go to heaven if they’re good…
I kid ye not, this was the crux. and my heart sank, I mean what is that all about eh? This is a school unaffiliated from religion.
Michael, may I request permission to cross-post this excellent piece, with all due acknowledgements and link to you.
I hope you will keep us updated as you embark on your training as I suspect this will be fascinating…
I agree with the sentiment that their should be an emphasis on the right to evangelise within a religious denomination school and the right for religiously minded teachers to promote the virtues of their faiths, it does raise a few questions: Firstly, what about agnostic Religious Education teachers such as myself who have no specific religious agenda to promote?
I work an a school for pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties, in my school, there is a lot of institutionalism racism and intolerance of other cultures and religions. Offering a curriculum which explains the religious beliefs of these religions offers an understanding and acceptance of these religions that a theologically based curriculum wouldn’t.
Also, there is a lack of specialist Religious Education teachers as a whole, with R.E being delivered by non-specialists, with the consequence that it is taught by people who are passionless about the subject.
Promoting Religious Education, regardless of the perspective you take when delivering it is a hard task to achieve. I remember when I worked in a state school, I found it difficult to see some parents on parents’ evening; a lot of the parents simply didn’t care about the religious instruction being given to their children, they cared about the ‘core’ subjects. When the parents have such a dim view of the importance of decent religious instruction in school, this despondence to the subject is passed down to the pupils.
Cheers for the comment Chal, and good to hear from you!
On the agnostic teachers point, I suppose I would argue that there is obviously no obligation for them to profess a faith they don’t hold, but they would still have a duty to teach the faith consistent with the norms and traditions of the school in which they were situated – be it Catholic or anything else. Of course, denominational schools could merely employ RE teachers according to their faith, which would partially solve this problem, but there are plenty who would like to revoke this right on the grounds of ‘religious discrimination’. Which kind of defeats the object of having a religious school at all.
I must admit, I’m sceptical of the ‘theologically based curriculum’ point (I’ll accept that terminology for ease of argument), for two reasons. Firstly, it seems to me that simply having knowledge of other religions and perspectives is not at all the same as acting compassionately towards them – and the latter is certainly not something that a theologically based curriculum would (or should) ever neglect. Secondly, I think people come to a greater understanding of alternative religions and traditions by first understanding their own – indeed, elevation of the former and neglect of the latter can, I think, lead to more division and unrest, not less. Besides, for a Christian, the Christian story is true, and so it would only be proper to consider other religions in light of it – and not as merely one lifestyle choice amongst many.
I have sympathy with your parents point – and I don’t know what the answer is, to be honest. Short of asserting that RE is THE core subject, I’m not sure what else can be said – if parents see things differently, then what to do?
The real irony is that RE, if it was thought in a more traditional way, could easily be one of the most interesting subjects in school. In my first year of secondary school, we had an old and (I say it affectionately) rather batty nun who did give us proper religious instruction– who thought us about the mysteries of the rosary, Marian apparitions, Maximillian Kolbe, stuff like that. Stories, and wonders. Chesterton was right to talk about “the thrilling romance of orthodoxy”. Way more interesting than filling out a survey to find your Myers-Briggs personality type.
It’s not just the English preference for compromise and the uncontroversial, Michael– I went to an Irish Catholic school and we were taught very little Catholicism. I don’t say this in condemnation of the school as it was a good school, I can understand the reasons it felt cowed by the surrounding culture, and we were all snotty teens who liked nothing better than to punch holes (as we thought) in any doctrine or tradition.
But the fact remains, religious education class consisted of little more than pop psychology, watching uplifting films such as Alive and Shadowlands, and touchy-feely sessions where we got in touch with our inner selves. It would be a gross exaggeration to say we were taught more of other religions than we were of Christianity. But it is true that a fourth year project in which we had to research a non-Christian world religion was more substantial than nearly everything else we learnt.
It is my belief that religious education is not so much aimed at the children in front of you as the young (or not so young) adults they became. For instance. I remember our RE teacher asking us what a mystery was. Someone said, “Something you can never understand”. Our teacher replied that it was better to think of it as something you could never stop learning more about it. That single sentence, little heeded at the time, probably affected me more than anything else I learnt at school, over time. And even then it was like a moment with a divining rod– quiver, quiver– something is here, something big.
As you don’t approve of essay-length comments (!), I will just conclude by saying, I do believe that the propriety of teaching Catholic doctrine as truth will be one of the great struggles of our era, and I’m not sure how to justify it to unbelievers.
Concur heartily with your point on ‘the adults they become’; I suspect that, for large periods, the job of the RE teacher is to plant the seed within an atmosphere fertile enough for it take root, which will very often be years down the line (it certainly was for me). Creating the model Catholics clearly isn’t the thing – it is ceasing to even sow the seeds that I find a little discouraging.
And I agree with your last comment, too. In a world where the intelligentsia found their intelligence on a fundamental rejection of truth, it behoves the faithful to remain humble and steadfast in defence of it. But it is hard, and one inevitably questions whether one is up to the task, both intellectually and spiritually, for all the enthusiasm one might possess. And I think this is where my instincts kick in about education – sometimes it can feel like a whole generation of Catholics have been sent forth into a world that is hostile to them without being given even the most rudimentary armour and weaponry for use in the conflict. If we are to contest the public space, as we absolutely should, then such preparation is essential – and I wonder if it might just prove manna to a whole host of lapsed Catholics, suddenly with resources available to both rediscover their own faith as well as defend it from the perpetual onslaught of their cultured despisers.