Skip navigation

The Tablet

Last updated: 21 March 2010
Log in

Search

easter offer

Current issue


Previous issues


Archive


Further Reading

Liturgical Calendar


The Tablet Radio Show


Manage your Subscription


Newsletter

The Pastoral Review

Feature Article

Everyday tale of our time

Jonathan Romain

 One of the plot lines currently being aired on the radio soap The Archers is that of the marriage of the fictional village's vicar to a Hindu solicitor. Against a backdrop of increasing mixed-faith marriage, a rabbi examines the consequences, pitfalls and pleasures of marrying out

A highly controversial marriage is taking place in the BBC's fictional village of Ambridge. Normally this would be of little public interest except to regular listeners of Radio 4's The Archers, but in this particular case it holds considerable national significance.

Moreover, there is a double twist to the story: not only is solicitor Usha Gupta a Hindu and Alan Franks a Christian, but Alan is also the local vicar. For some this is heart-warmingly romantic, a sign that love conquers all divides. Others will view it as a religious disaster, making a mockery of the traditional notion that the family that prays together stays together.

Yet whatever one's attitude, there is no doubt that the story is not a figment of the scriptwriter's imagination, but merely reflects what is happening in Britain today: a major trend towards mixed-faith marriages.

It is estimated that more than 65 per cent of Catholics marry out of their faith, as do up to half of Jews. There are no official figures for members of the Church of England, but the fact that the House of Bishops has published guidelines for the celebration of mixed-faith marriages in church indicates that they are normative. The rate is less among Muslim, Sikh and Hindu communities, but their leaders all report a gradual increase.

Is this marked trend caused by people becoming less religious, or by society becoming more open? Given that those who do marry people of other faiths are often devout, it would seem that it is simply down to the extent to which, in a tolerant pluralist Britain, people who work and live alongside each other should also form relationships. As Martin, a practising Jew, put it: "I never intended marrying out, neither did my Catholic wife. It just so happened that I met Pat at a business conference. Five years later we are married and celebrate each other's traditions."

Martin and Pat are typical of those who do not see marrying out as opting out, but are still attached to their faith and wish to pass it on to the next generation. They also represent another trend: the disproportionately high number of Jews and Catholics who marry each other. A survey of 1,000 couples, undertaken in the 1990s, revealed that one in four Jews who marry out marries a Catholic.

One likely reason for this startling statistic is that, for many ordinary Catholics and Jews, their two faiths share underlying values that make them feel comfortable with each other: home life and family roots are more important for them than theological differences. The two religions are largely that of migrant groups in Britain and tend to live in urban areas, making it more likely that they will encounter one another.

As minority faiths in Britain, they give adherents a similar experience and way of relating to those outside their faith. It seems that, whereas both might feel overwhelmed by the dominant religion if they were to marry a member of the Church of England, marrying a member of another minority group encourages them to believe that there is less danger of losing their identity.

The minority status of Catholics and Jews has also led to shared experiences of prejudice from others, be it indelicate jokes, deliberate insults or physical violence. Both groups know what it is to suffer discrimination and to be an outsider.

However, while mixed-faith marriages are on the increase, religious leaders have been much less enthusiastic about such unions. One objection is on religious grounds: the worry that a family containing differing religious identities may well make compromises to prevent them becoming divisive. This can lead to the neglect of many religious practices, whether domestic rituals or attendance at public worship.

At the same time, beliefs may be developed into a diluted, catch-all goodwill to all mankind without any distinctive theology. Moreover, if the parents themselves practise little, then the handing on of any faith in the next generation is also in jeopardy.

This places many ministers in an acute dilemma when confronted by an engaged mixed-faith couple who explain that they are very much in love and genuinely compatible. As one rabbi put it: "I am torn between my concern for the couple - who am I to contradict them when they say they are right for each other? - and my concern for tradition and the fact that their relationship may endanger it."

A second objection to mixed relationships stems from the practical consequences for the couples. Marriage itself is a potential minefield - there are enough divorces already among same-faith couples - but a mixed-faith marriage can be even more explosive, with many potential problems to be faced. Wedding preparations are often marred by the thorny question of where the marriage can take place. Legal bars, family prejudice or unacceptable pre-conditions over the upbringing of any children can often rule out a religious venue.

The result is that many couples who had always envisaged a "white wedding", or who, however lapsed, still wanted God's blessing upon their union, are forced to settle for a register office ceremony. Thus they start off with a disappointment and with the religious differences making an early impact.

Moreover, everyday life contains many more pitfalls than couples envisage, with religious culture often coming to the fore in unexpected ways. Thus Will (Jewish) and Mary (Christian) enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon, but had a shouting match their first day back home when she made a bacon-and-eggs breakfast for him. They had discussed joint bank accounts in advance, but never domestic food.

Another newly wed couple hit difficulties mid-December when he (Christian) brought home a Christmas tree which he regarded as a pretty decoration for the front living room, whereas she (Muslim) saw it as a declaration of religious war.

The arrival of children can complicate the situation even further if one partner is Jewish or Muslim, as immediate decisions have to be made. If it is a boy, do you baptise him, circumcise him, do neither or both? What should be a wonderful moment can deteriorate into a family row if not handled carefully.

The religious education of the children is another quandary. Often it is settled by whichever partner feels the more strongly about their faith, although with the danger that the other partner may feel ill at ease. An upbringing in both is more equitable, but can lead to children being less certain of their own religious identity.

Another solution is to ban religion from the home on the grounds that "they can make their own choice when they are older". In reality most never do, for one can only choose from a position of knowledge, not from a vacuum.

The issue does not stop here but carries on till the very end of life. Where are the partners to be buried - separately in the cemeteries of their own faith or together in non-consecrated ground? Many couples opt for cremation as a way of sidestepping the territorial problem.

Solutions to all these issues are possible, and many mixed-faith couples end up blissfully happy, providing they observe two golden rules: discuss everything in advance and maintain communication with their respective families.

However, as The Archers implies, mixed-faith marriage now affects not just the laity but also some members of the clergy themselves, an unthinkable development not so long ago. This presents a major professional challenge on top of the personal one, as ministers are supposed to embody the beliefs they preach and bear witness to them in their own life.

A real-life vicar whose wife is a Hindu told me: "I have no problem with the multiplicity of deities that my wife worships and I see them as different manifestations of the one universal God. But I know that many of my congregation do not feel so comfortable, while some reckon I have forsaken my calling."

The signs are that in an increasingly integrated society, the rate of mixed-faith marriages will continue to rise. Ministers of all persuasions have to re-assess ways of maintaining their distinctive tradition while also catering for families that embrace more than one religion, themselves included.