Article
Culture
Freedom of Belief
Politics
5 min read

Asylum row pits Church against State

From Westminster to Weymouth, the church incurs the wrath of statesmen.

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

A man wearing a waist coats sits at a desk and ask a questions of a panel of people with their backs facing us.
Lee Anderson MP questions clergy.

To tune into yesterday’s Home Affairs Committee hearing on asylum-seekers was to witness the Church in the dock. 

The Church is “aiding and abetting” people-smugglers by being so welcoming to refugees, one committee member, MP Marco Longhi, claimed. 

There were audible groans when one of the three Church representatives put forward to defend such claims - Baptist Union spokesperson Steve Tinning - revealed that seven asylum-seekers from the Bibby Stockholm have been baptised since October.  

There were more groans when Mr Tinning claimed each of the baptisms had involved individuals whose conversions had taken place before their arrival on these shores. 

“A likely story!” the groaner - I think it was the new Reform Party MP, Lee Anderson - seemed to wish to say. 

The “hostile environment” facing asylum-seekers was referenced several times by the Church of England's Bishop Guli Francis Dehqani, and “hostile” would certainly describe the reception she received. 

On the other hand, there was celebration for the “bravery” of the “whistleblowing” former Church of England minister, Rev Matthew Firth, who told The Telegraph recently about the alleged “conveyor belt” of asylum-seekers being baptised after falsely claiming to have converted to Christianity. 

One committee member, MP Tim Loughton, suggested Rev Firth might be appointed to a prospective working group on the issue.  

There was no such invitation for the other Church representatives. 

It seemed in this particular hearing that to speak for asylum-seekers was very much to swim against the prevailing tide. 

There perhaps could be no clearer illustration of this than when Mr Longhi flatly accused the Church of England of “working in the opposite direction” to the government’s efforts to deter immigrants from arriving on our shores.  

While the Home Office minister tasked with responding to this accusation did not specifically charge the Church of this sin, he did caution them to “think very carefully” about how the work that they do “can be portrayed by those that are facilitating these terrible [Channel] crossings”. 

There can be little doubt that the comments of senior figures, including MPs, have contributed to such threats. 

Dame Diana Johnson, who chaired the meeting, paid tribute to the churches “supporting some of the most vulnerable people in our country”, but such tributes were not forthcoming from the other committee members. Quite the contrary. 

Dame Johnson also thanked Mr Tinning for highlighting the “sadness and fear” of church members in Weymouth who have been insulted and threatened since the stories of asylum-seekers converting in their church were publicised. 

Mr Tinning said the church had received an email saying: “You need shutting down, and the backlash from this will be huge. The truth is, you know you’re lying and cheating our system. Treacherous to taxpaying people! Brace yourself!” 

“This church is now fearing the backlash because of language used,” Mr Tinning said, “about whether taxpayers are being ‘scammed’, or others saying that ‘you attend Mass once a week for a few months and bingo, you're signed off by a member of the clergy’. It's just not true. And it's doing damage to the communities that are desperately trying to serve the poor and vulnerable in their areas.” 

Dame Johnson said it was “quite disturbing” to hear the Weymouth church had been targeted. But again, this was to swim against the prevailing tide.  

There was an eagerness to celebrate the “bravery” of Reverend Firth - this was mentioned by several committee members - to stand up against the powerful Church, while the bravery of regular church members to stand up for refugees seemed to be overlooked. 

All of which leads one to wonder which is braver: to stand up against the Church, or to stand up against the State? And which is more powerful?  

“The Church of England has come down on you like the Spanish Inquisition!” MP Tim Loughton suggested to Rev Firth.  

And when Rev Firth reported being told that “people might try to get you” for speaking out, he received understandable sympathy.  

But might it have been even more courageous for the other committee members to have joined Dame Johnson in also speaking out on behalf of church members like those in Weymouth who have been threatened simply for daring to assist asylum-seekers. 

And there can be little doubt that the comments of senior figures, including MPs, have contributed to such threats. 

Another element in the background of the hearing was Suella Braverman’s contribution, in absentia, by having recently claimed - in another widely read piece in The Telegraph - that churches around the country were “facilitating industrial-scale bogus asylum claims”. 

The Home Office Minister, Tom Pursglove, was asked several times whether there was any evidence for this claim, the short answer to which appeared to be no.  

“You’ll have to ask her,” was his repeated response.  

But as Mr Tinning mentioned in his closing remarks, words are important, and what stood out most from the hearing was that the general consensus among MPs, it would appear, is that those who speak out against asylum-seekers and the Church are to be welcomed - perhaps simply because they are working with, and not against the government. 

Perhaps it's little wonder, then, that churches who do stand up for refugees - which in the current climate would appear to be standing up against the State - incur the wrath of statesmen.  

The question for the general public to decide is which is more harmful: the desire of the Church to speak up for asylum-seekers, even if some may be found to be bogus, or the desire of the State to stop them arriving at all costs. 

 

Watch the full Home Affairs Committee hearing on Parliamentlive.tv.

Article
Christmas culture
Culture
Hinduism
Time
4 min read

Why good wishes resonate across cultures

Hmm… and where did you get that idea from?

Rahil is a former Hindu monk, and author of Found By Love. He is a Tutor and Speaker at the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics.

Scrabble letters read 'Happy New Year' against a red starry background.

Country house gallery Compton Verney is currently hosting a delightful exhibition by British Indian artist Chila Kumari. It’s a colorful collision of worlds: neon-bright Hindu deities paired with ice cream trucks and cakes—a nostalgic nod to her father’s business during her early years in North England. Chila has captured the balance of her East-West upbringing beautifully. 

But what really stopped me in my tracks was the theme of the exhibition: “Love and Truth.” Hmm, I thought. Isn’t that a very Christian theme? Hinduism, as intricate and philosophical as it is, doesn’t traditionally frame life around “truth” or “love” the way Christianity does. And yet, it’s possible that my Hindu friends and family subconsciously desire or even pursue these ideals without fully realizing it. 

Surely, on January 1st, my lovely Hindu relatives will send me cheerful WhatsApp messages: “Happy New Year! Hope it’s a good one!” Naturally, I’ll reply with warm wishes of my own. But a thought will linger: haven’t they already celebrated their New Year? 

The Hindu calendar, Vikram Samvat, is lunar and runs 52 years ahead of the Gregorian calendar. For most Hindus, the New Year is ushered in during Diwali, celebrated with food, lights, and fireworks. Sikhs, too, celebrate their New Year in March according to the Nanakshahi calendar. And yet, when January 1st rolls around, I’ll find myself in a sea of “hope” and “joy” messages from friends and relatives of different faiths. 

Here’s where the question emerges: where did this idea of hope and joy come from? They aren’t central concepts in Hinduism, Sikhism, Jainism, or even Buddhism—not in the way Christians understand them. A friend once told me that biblical hope is “the joyful anticipation of something good.” Author Clare Gilbert described it as being “optimistic even when the heart is broken.” Similarly, Christian joy is not tied to external circumstances. It’s a steady, enduring truth that can coexist with suffering. 

And yet, these words—hope and joy—are shared freely by people whose traditions don’t teach them explicitly. Why? I’m not asking anyone to stop, of course! It’s beautiful to see these blessings exchanged. But it does make me wonder: why wish someone something that isn’t foundational in your own worldview? Could it be that these words point to a deeper, unspoken longing? 

Consider this: New Delhi-based journalist Garima Garg offers a fascinating anecdote in her foreword to Anthony Stone’s, Hindu Astrology: Myths, Symbols and Reality. Dr. Stone, a Christian with a PhD in theoretical physics from Oxford, went on to study Sanskrit and astrology in India. In her foreword, Garg recalls how, on the day Queen Elizabeth II died, a “comet-like orb” streaked across the sky. 

Skeptics, she writes, might dismiss this as space debris or SpaceX satellites. But for believers in astrology, timing matters. A celestial event, aligned with a moment of historical significance, sparks excitement and anticipation. It’s a moment of watchful waiting, a belief that something extraordinary is happening—or is about to happen. 

Sound familiar? That feeling of anticipation, of longing for something good, mirrors what Christians call hope. It’s not tethered to what we can see but rests on the unseen. Even in astrology, in its focus on aligning stars and planets, there’s an echo of this universal yearning—a desire for the extraordinary to touch the ordinary, for the unseen to become visible. 

This brings me back to the heart of my reflection. Hope and joy, as the Bible presents them, are not mere words but living truths. Hope is a confident expectation of good because of God’s promises. Joy is the assurance of His presence, even in pain. Could it be that cultures and faiths that don’t explicitly teach these concepts are still reaching for them? Could the universal desire for something extraordinary be pointing to Christ? 

I wonder if this is why themes like “Love and Truth” resonate so deeply, even in a Hindu-inspired art exhibition. They’re not just abstract ideas; they’re foundational to the human heart.  

To be clear, I’m not criticizing anyone for sharing hope or joy. Quite the opposite—I think it’s wonderful. What I am asking is whether this sharing hints at something unspoken. Could these lovely cultures and faiths, in their pursuit of meaning, be reaching for the very hope and joy that Christ offers? 

After all, Christianity teaches that God has 'set eternity in the human heart'. If that’s true, then it makes sense that people of all cultures would yearn for love, truth, hope, and joy, even if they don’t fully understand why. These aren’t just Christian concepts—they’re universal signposts pointing us toward God. 

So next time someone wishes me a “joyous New Year” or sends a message of hope, I’ll smile and reply with warmth. But I’ll also ponder, quietly: where did that idea come from? Perhaps, without realizing it, they’re expressing the deepest longing of the human heart—a longing that Christ can fulfill. 

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