A Christian Nation

I was listening to Radio 4 on Sunday, when a pastor popped up confidently declaring that Britain is a “Christian nation”. Really? Which century’s census is he reading from – Domesday? The idea is kept alive mostly by the far right, who’ve developed a curious form of Christianity that skips straight from Leviticus to Daily Mail headlines, with the entire New Testament quietly airbrushed out. Love thy neighbour? Only if he looks like Nigel from Clacton.

The truth is, this isn’t so much a profession of faith as it is a reaction. Christianity is being hauled out not because the pews are full, but because other religions are more visible. It’s not belief – it’s a boundary marker. A way of saying “not them” rather than “we follow Him.” The far right’s “Christian nation” is less about Jesus and more about jealousy – a cultural club badge, waved about when they see a mosque or a gurdwara.

Let’s be clear: this island wasn’t handed down on stone tablets as a Christian nation. For most of its history, the place was pagan. First it was druids, oaks, and sacrifices. Then came the Romans with their gods and the occasional lion in the arena. Christianity only started to get a foothold under Rome – then promptly fell out of fashion when the legions buggered off. The Anglo-Saxons brought Woden and Thor back into vogue, until another wave of missionaries reinvented the wheel and declared us Christian again.

So if we’re playing the “original identity” game, then technically we’re a pagan nation with a Roman interlude, an Anglo-Saxon relapse, and a Christian phase that’s now quietly ebbing into secular pluralism. Demographically, fewer than half the population even tick “Christian” these days – and actual churchgoers could all fit into Wembley with plenty of space for the hot dog stalls.

That pastor, and the far right cheerleaders who repeat him, are really just expressing a hope. A desire to freeze Britain at some misty-eyed point in the 1950s, when vicars cycled through sleepy villages and the Sunday service was the closest thing to entertainment. To call Britain a “Christian nation” now is like insisting your old school is still yours just because your initials are carved into a desk. Time moves on.

And if the far right’s version of Christianity really is Christianity, then Jesus must be wondering why he bothered with the Sermon on the Mount. They’ve clearly decided the Beatitudes are optional extras, like alloy wheels.