Recently I rushed to Rome for 24 hours in order to attend the canonisation of John Henry Newman at the Vatican. Unless you are a Catholic or a particularly keen Anglican you may have not heard of him but he was a Church of England priest who converted to Catholicism in 1845 and later became a Cardinal. He is also the reason why my family is Catholic because one of my ancestors was his contemporary and was persuaded by his writings, teachings and personality to follow him to Rome.
How much screen time, breast or bottle, nursery or child minder - these are questions all modern parents grapple with. Should we give our child religion? Not so much. In observant families religious education/indoctrination obviously remains a foregone conclusion. In wholly secularised families the question probably does not even arise.
That leaves the 'maybes' and I am intrigued and identify with the 'maybes'. I am confirmed Catholic but find the notion of godhead worrying itself about human beings' sex lives absolutely absurd. Furthermore I do not subscribe to a bad apple analysis of clerical sexual abuse but instead see it as a poisoning of the entire holy well. Even one priest making a mockery of Jesus' command to suffer the little children deals a mortal blow to the moral authority of the church. When it transpires that rather than rooting out this cancer the church has, it would appear, connived to hide these criminals under its cassock it is little wonder that many parents hesitate before entrusting their children to the clergy.
All of that before one even begins to address the powerful ambivalence triggered by embracing patriarchy's granddaddy. And yet I was married in church, my first child baptised and my second soon to be. The Catholic Church welcomes babies with open arms but try joining as an adult and you'll find the Royal Marines selection process is less testing.
Suffice to say if my childhood experiences of churchgoing had been marred by even the slightest wrongdoing I certainly would not be writing this. Instead I was an enthusiastic acolyte at Farm Street which, as you can see, is full of light and colour.
Its priests are Jesuits and its choir is exceptional. I derive comfort from the liturgy, from ritual and sacred music can be absolutely transcending. Obviously it is easy to balk at the so muchness of Catholicism, the literal gilding of the lily. Perhaps the Quakers have it right in their stillness and simplicity. But the richness and splendour is, for me, a pure manifestation of the human desire to adore and to revere.
I know that the religious hardly have a monopoly on spiritual transportation and many derive a sense of the numinous at mountain tops or in great forests and, no doubt, some exceptional types may feel it even in the midst of the throng on Oxford Street. But when religion is not war, not hypocrisy, not interference in people's lives and their bodily autonomy it has the capacity to cater to some very fundamental but also some very evolved human needs.
But that's a lot of buts and perhaps the best kind of parenting permits children to make their own voyages of discovery towards or away from faith and religion. It's to my wholly secular wife's credit that she has sanctioned my introducing our children to what I have known and rejoiced in but also been disappointed by.
Faith, or its absence, is obviously an intensely personal thing but it's a family thing too.
Suffice to say if my childhood experiences of churchgoing had been marred by even the slightest wrongdoing I certainly would not be writing this. Instead I was an enthusiastic acolyte at Farm Street which, as you can see, is full of light and colour.
Its priests are Jesuits and its choir is exceptional. I derive comfort from the liturgy, from ritual and sacred music can be absolutely transcending. Obviously it is easy to balk at the so muchness of Catholicism, the literal gilding of the lily. Perhaps the Quakers have it right in their stillness and simplicity. But the richness and splendour is, for me, a pure manifestation of the human desire to adore and to revere.
I know that the religious hardly have a monopoly on spiritual transportation and many derive a sense of the numinous at mountain tops or in great forests and, no doubt, some exceptional types may feel it even in the midst of the throng on Oxford Street. But when religion is not war, not hypocrisy, not interference in people's lives and their bodily autonomy it has the capacity to cater to some very fundamental but also some very evolved human needs.
But that's a lot of buts and perhaps the best kind of parenting permits children to make their own voyages of discovery towards or away from faith and religion. It's to my wholly secular wife's credit that she has sanctioned my introducing our children to what I have known and rejoiced in but also been disappointed by.
Faith, or its absence, is obviously an intensely personal thing but it's a family thing too.
