Religion and political parties - not entirely a comfortable fit...

It would be fair to describe me as a not particularly devout Catholic. I don't attend Mass, I don't support my local Catholic church. I feel vaguely guilty about that, but see guilt as being part of the basic underpinning of Catholicism and so don't feel so bad about it. And, in truth, I have problems with a faith that discriminates against a majority of its own membership, let alone the rest of the population.

It would also be fair to say that, as a political activist, wishing people a happy (insert religious festival as appropriate) makes me slightly uncomfortable. In the multicultural society we live in, the sheer range of religious festivals to be marked means, that if you want to be seen as properly inclusive, you risk issuing so many messages that they become a bit of a cliché. Are you marking a particular festival because you care, or because you simply feel that you ought to?

Now I do accept that religious observance is still important in our society, albeit less so than once it was. In my own community, the Anglican Church plays a central part in community cohesion that it didn't obviously do in the London suburbs - or perhaps I wasn't looking for it. But I tend to the view that how you live your life and, as importantly, how you are perceived to do so, is more important than overt displays of religious tolerance and inclusion.

I sense, without much of a theological education to rely upon, that most religions have, at their core, similar philosophical positions - that you should help those in need, that you should respect the world around you and the people in it and that you should attempt to uphold what are generally accepted virtues. Do those things, and most people will see that you are at least trying.

But politicians want to be liked which, in a profession which centres on the ability to win organised popularity contests, perhaps shouldn't come as a terrible surprise. That does engender some degree of suspicion as to motive given how little trust is placed in them and so I find myself wondering how much value there is for a non-religious politician to mark religious festivals. Those who practice the particular religion might think it good to be included, whilst others will question the sincerity of the author.

For those who are publicly devout in their faith, I see rather less of a problem. And yes, as Tim Farron has discovered, being devout can bring with it a whole different set of problems, but that goes with the territory of having opinions - you have to be able, and willing, to justify them if challenged. But referring to religion when you are an active adherent feels a bit more justified to me.

Ultimately, it is for individual politicians to judge whether or not to mark religious festivals within their communities and to deal with the consequences of the stance they take. And, as long as political parties don't use it as an opportunity to attack each other, it probably does little harm overall. But, from a personal perspective, I will keep my religious beliefs a predominantly personal matter and respect the rights of others to practice their faith as they see fit...

A county set at prayer with the High Sheriff

I am not a particularly religious person - a deep and abiding suspicion of clerical bureaucracy is just one reason why I am sceptical about organised religion - but I do find that religious services, done well, do lift the soul (oh yes, I do believe in that, contradictory though that may seem). And so it was with some pleasure that Ros and I attended Evensong for Her Majesty's Courts of Justice at St Edmundsbury Cathedral this afternoon.

The event, the climax of the High Sheriff's term of office, is an opportunity to give thanks to those who uphold our laws and who exercise governance on our behalf, and is attended by the judiciary, council leaders and town mayors from across the county, plus Parliamentarians and the rest of the local gentry. Suits are worn, as are hats. It is a public occasion.

The cathedral looked lovely, with the choir, the new organ and trumpeters to play fanfares, plus the various senior clergy in their robes. Proper hymns were sung, such as "I vow to thee, my country", and we got a sermon from a senior figure related to the law. And, of course, we sang the national anthem.

I am reminded by all of this that, whilst religion plays a far less central role in our lives than once it did, the relationship between the civil authorities and the spiritual one - the Church of England - remains a strong one. In a county such as Suffolk, still relatively homogeneous, the issue of diversity is relatively understated - more people here define themselves as Church of England than in more urbanised parts of the country - and rural village life still revolves around the church to some extent, even if most people don't attend services.

And there is something quintessentially English about such things or, at least, so it appears to this ersatz Englishman. The Church provides an anchor, holding us to a sense of community, linking us to our history. It also acts as a reminder that bringing people together to celebrate and to reflect is to make us part of something bigger, something more considerate, and a reminder that we are, however it is defined, part of a wider community.

The divine purpose of the iPhone is finally revealed to us...

The news that there is a new 'app' for the iPhone that allows users to make confession with a virtual priest over the internet, comes as no great surprise. Indeed, I am amazed that it has taken this long.

There will, I suppose, be those who condemn the idea of 'instant confession', and will see this as another step towards the breakdown of the Catholic Church. I'm on the opposite side of that particular argument. If the app is faithful to doctrine, and encourages individuals to ponder over the morality of their actions, it can only be a force for good.

It does list Acts of Contrition in English and Latin, it is approved by senior church figures in this country and in the US, and the words at the end of the confessional process carry an implicit invitation to visit a priest. And when you're done, you get a spiritual quotation from a saint, some of them female (and that's pretty radical for Catholics). For those Catholics far from home, or in places where professing your faith is potentially dangerous, this advance may well be very gratefully received.

And quirkily, it is in tune with the words of Pope Benedict XVI, urging Catholics to make good use of their presence in the digital world. Consider it done, your Holiness...