Round the World In 80 Faiths

At the point of writing, Peter Owen Jones is finishing his BBC series on marginal faith groups. In general I have welcomed his open-mindedness, an Anglican priest thrust into first hand experiences within the anthropology of religion. Above all he has been quick to recognise the imperialist nature of Christianity engaged on world domination, believing itself to be the only true faith. He apologises for this arrogance on several occasions.

Currently he is visiting El Tio, a devil-god deep in South American silver mines, a relic of the indigenous gods submerged by Catholicism. He handles poisonous snakes with American fundamentalist Christian snake-handles, following a quaint verse in Mark 16. He greatly disliked Voodoo blood sacrifice for its cruel waste of life, although most of the sacrificed flesh was apparently eaten (except for the kitten and puppy). He rejoices when a colonised indigenous faith fights back to form a rich syncretism. He tries to show such living rituals as culturally enriching and empowering.

Too many faiths are shown to cover here, so I am content to explore principles. The anthropologist loves diversity and is saddened when the traditional dies out and is replaced by a global impoverished culture, be it in literature, music or religion. Yet not all traditional beliefs have been helpful and can imprison a people in the past. British beliefs in ghosts, black demon dogs, and witches are not things I would wish preserved or restored, however children's novels such as Whitby Witches or The Ragwitch would wish. There is a balance between people valuing the best of the past (but not all of the past) and moving forward. I worry therefore that faiths such as those presented have become a museum of human delusion if taken literally. I understand that cultural identity is important, but underlying many customs are irrational beliefs, in spirits, demons, deities, fate and the afterlife. On the programme as I write, Catholics are blessing automobiles to bring good fortune. In many cases, what we see is the triumph of superstition over education. Religious people have no problem in believing the impossible or unlikely, and there is no sign globally of a rational coming of age. Owen Jones rejoices in the 'museum' but supports the rational. He said, 'No minister can get rid of my demons. I have to sort out my issues for myself'. Maybe the prisoners 're-directed' by Pentecostal needed to be shaken out of their destructive path and given a new direction. The issue is whether that dependent direction is best for them in the long run.

Do people need bizarre myths? Some are ancient and traditional, like the two former cannibal tribes putting aside enmity by exchanging children - fortunately now a symbolic exchange. Some are however very modern and very strange. All have in common the importance of ritual and performance. Ritual gives some social cohesion, the feeling of togetherness. That togetherness has a purpose. The ceremonials of Nuremberg in 1935-6 aimed to bind together the German people behind an all-powerful leader. Owen Jones shows how rituals can become personally intrusive, inviting psychic distress. Others brought him peace, the residence in a smoke-filled tent, and listening to the river with a shaman. Each of these cases showed that these apparently positive practices were condemned as diabolical, and their celebrants persecuted and killed. He ends in Turin with a ground living in religious harmony, drawing equal insight from all faiths - a marginal cult, but a spiritual high-spot.

So what is diabolical? The insistence that only we are right and others must be forced to agree with us? Or a treasuring of the voices of many people who live, believe and act in ways which enhance the well-being of the world as a community. I know my answer.