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7 min read

The bold museum reflecting a “moonlight” experience of the unseeable

Robert Wright visits the UK's only Faith Museum, in Bishop Auckland, and hears how its funder hopes to inspire reflection on the divine.

Robert is a journalist at the Financial Times.

 

A art installaton showing purple and pink flame-like shapes moving in a darkened room
The Eidolon art installation.

It takes a moment to grow accustomed to walking in the dark of the long, steeply roofed room that houses Mat Collishaw’s art installation Eidolon. But the artwork’s impact is immediate. Two huge, moving images in the middle of the room show a blue iris flower. It is being engulfed by flames but not consumed. Speakers play, in Latin, a story from the Hebrew bible’s Book of Daniel in which three young Jewish men survive being thrown into a fiery furnace for refusing to worship the Babylonian king. The artwork is a rare successful attempt to capture in modern art the essence of Christ’s crucifixion and the Christian tradition of martyrdom, with its roots in earlier Jewish beliefs.

Watch Eidolon

Eidolon is one of the highlights of the UK’s first Faith Museum, a bold project opened on October 7 in Bishop Auckland castle, the historic residence of the Bishops of Durham. The museum forms part of The Auckland Project, a series of initiatives in Bishop Auckland, north-west of Darlington, being funded by Jonathan Ruffer, a Christian and successful City investor. Ruffer’s childhood home was outside nearby Middlesbrough. The new institution aims to tell the story of 6,000 years of faith in Great Britain, starting with the Gainford cup and ring stone. The stone, found 90 years ago 10 miles from Bishop Auckland, may date from as early as 4,000BCE. It features carvings regarded as the earliest evidence of religious practice in Great Britain. 

Jonathan Ruffer.

A man stands in a formal dining room that has traditional paintings on the walls
Jonathan Ruffer, in Bishop Auckland Castle.

Ruffer, however, declines to link the museum’s contents to his own faith or an explicitly Christian message. He insists that he is merely seeking to advance discussion of faith in a society where it is little debated but remains a potent force. In the living room of Castle Lodge, his home in the castle grounds, Ruffer compares the contemporary taboo about religion with the very different mores of the 19th century. 

“Nobody talked about sex in Victorian times,” he says. “It’s impossible to imagine that because the public world was silent on it, it was not as much a guiding force as it is today. I think that’s where faith is now.” 

He adds that the 10-year process of establishing the museum has made it “absolutely apparent” to him why there are no other similar institutions. 

“What is a museum for?” he asks. “It’s to gawp at things and if you think what is the subject matter of a faith museum, it’s God. In whatever form and shape that you believe that God to be, you cannot see that topic.” 

The museum is nevertheless rich in sometimes poignant objects that the curators call “witnesses” of faith. They include the Binchester Ring, a ring with Christian symbols dating from the third century of the Christian era. The ring, found only a mile from the museum, is regarded as the earliest known evidence for Christian practice in Britain. There is a small slate, engraved on one side, that served as an altar for Recusant Roman Catholics while their Church was out in the cold and had to stay hidden during the Reformation years. The slate could be turned over and disguised as a normal roof slate when not in use. The museum has on loan the Bodleian Bowl – a rare example of a ceremonial vessel used by one of England’s Jewish communities before King Edward I expelled the group in 1290. 

Ruffer says the impact of the objects – many on loan from other museums - comes from their histories. 

“There’s a great power in the objects that we have,” he says. 

Eileen Harrop.

A priest stands in front of lead glass windows and carved seats.
Eileen Harrop, entrepreneur priest and museum advisor.

Among the advisers on the museum’s establishment was Eileen Harrop, a Church of England priest originally from Singapore and of Chinese origin. She was appointed an “entrepreneur priest” in 2016 to work with Ruffer on The Auckland Project. Meeting in the castle’s former library, she says the museum avoids suggesting all faiths are the same, while also steering clear of Christian proselytising. Harrop, now the vicar of four parishes around Bishop Auckland, expects the museum to have a powerful effect on visitors. 

“It allows for people to experience the God who led Jonathan here,” she says. “It allows for people to enter into all the different ways in which people can identify something about faith and then it’s up to God.” 

A visit’s emotional impact comes largely from the new institution’s first floor, devoted to works created by contemporary artists exploring faith. Some of the most powerful exhibits are black-and-white pictures in which Khadija Saye, a young British-Gambian artist, explores possible uses for religious objects belonging to members of her family, some Muslim and some Christian. Saye lost her life in the 2017 Grenfell Tower fire. 

A series of works by Christian painter Roger Wagner has proved particularly timely. The museum opened the same day that Hamas terrorists started the current Israel-Gaza war with their attack inside Israel. The paintings translate stories from the Christian New Testament to the contemporary, riot-scarred occupied West Bank. 

Eidolon is among the works on the first floor. Harrop calls it an “amazing installation”, particularly for its retelling of the story of Daniel. 

“It relates a story… of what was going on in that particular experience of the faithful person called and protected with his companions in relation with God and the power of faith,” she says. 

Ruffer, meanwhile, shies away from expressing spiritual aspirations. 

Asked how he hopes people will respond to the museum, he says: “I couldn’t care less – that’s up to them. I have many faults but a sense of wanting to tell people or persuade people how they should be is very low down the list.” 

Yet Ruffer is clear that he received a clear, divine call to come to Bishop Auckland. He was first drawn to the area by his enthusiasm for Spanish art and his determination to prevent the Church of England’s Church Commissioners, then owners of the castle, from selling its prize artworks – life-size, 17th century portraits by Francisco de Zurbarán known as Jacob and his 12 Sons. The paintings, saved for Bishop Auckland in 2011 by a multi-million-pound donation by Ruffer, remain in the castle. But the Zurbarán link inspired Ruffer to establish a Spanish Gallery, dedicated to art from Spain, on Bishop Auckland’s Market Place. 

“I came here really through a calling,” Ruffer says. “I felt the need really to drop everything and come up to somewhere in the north-east, to be part of a community.” 

Ruffer’s engagement with the town deepened when the Church Commissioners announced, also in 2011, that they planned to sell the castle. Auckland Castle was formerly a seat of both ecclesiastical and secular power when the Bishops of Durham were prince-bishops – uniquely in England, both secular governors and bishops. The bishops lost the last of their secular powers in 1836. Ruffer bought the castle and transferred ownership to a newly established Auckland Castle Trust, which became The Auckland Project. 

“I’ve heard from people who have through it who have said they can’t really put their finger on what it is, but they must go back again,” 

Ruffer accepts there are issues with trying to capture the imagination of Bishop Auckland’s 25,000 inhabitants from inside a castle whose imposing entranceway symbolises its symbolic role as a seat of sometimes oppressive power. 

“That sense of power is felt as a reality by people,” he says. “But it’s empty. Power has long since moved away from the prince-bishops and then the bishops.” 

The castle’s unique history nevertheless makes it the ideal setting for the museum, according to Ruffer. Exhibits are housed both in a wing of the historic castle and a new, purpose-built extension. Ruffer says the castle was a far better place to site a faith museum aimed at raising questions than somewhere more explicitly linked to a specific faith such as a cathedral close. 

“Auckland Castle has been intricately involved with faith for nearly 1,000 years and yet it hasn’t been a place of worship,” he says. “It has a chapel but it’s ecclesiastical without being a cathedral, church or minster. So it seemed to me that that made it very appropriate for a faith museum.” 

The early signs, according to both Ruffer and Harrop, are that the new institution is encouraging reflection among visitors. Ruffer says the museum has responded to the “elemental need” for faith. He adds that the positive reaction so far vindicates the initiative to establish the museum, which he says has brought together objects and described them “without any directional guidance as to which works”. 

Harrop reports that visitors seem to feel the need to experience the museum a second time after a first visit. 

“I’ve heard from people who have through it who have said they can’t really put their finger on what it is, but they must go back again,” she says. 

Ruffer identifies the museum’s power by saying that it gives people an easier experience of the divine than would otherwise be available to them. He compares the experience of encountering God through the museum to looking at the light of the sun as reflected in soft moonlight. That, he points out, is far easier than looking painfully and directly at the sun. 

“The thing that changes people is to be confronted with something bigger than yourself,” he says. 

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Change
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5 min read

Everything is a movement – and that’s as it should be

They’re powerful when they are marked by love, dignity and justice.

Juila is a writer and social justice advocate. 

A digital billboard on top of a London building reads: Make Earth Day Everyday.
An Earth Day billboard, London, 2025.
Le Good Society.

I keep accidentally joining movements. In one instance, I had a go at submitting an essay for a competition; when it was (happily) selected to be part of the published book, the blurb told me that I was part of a movement of people embracing messy motherhood stories. At the same time, I am not parenting – and this apparently pulls me into a ‘sisterhood’ of women without children. These could seem contradictory, but I recognise that they are calls to togetherness. And yet, as I go about my life – trying to pay my bills, navigate community, play my part as a citizen of this world that is partly marked by climate crisis and conflict – I have to confess that my gut reaction at being called part of them is to feel tired. I don’t know if I have the energy for another movement in me.  

Movements seem to be having a moment. Open the news or social media, and there will be stories of communities of people speaking up together. And yet movements are not new. History reminds us that they have long been one of the best ways to counteract unchecked or disproportionate power. The anti-slavery campaigners of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the US civil rights movement, the influence of anti-apartheid and land rights activists… when we participate in a movement for justice, this is the heritage we are locating ourselves in.  

What makes a movement? It’s a group of ordinary individuals, and it’s so much more than that. It’s marked by people trying to live the change they seek, but it doesn’t end there. There is something about a movement that is emergent, more than the sum of its parts. Groups of people taking collective action to see change happen. Crucially, the movements that bend the arc of justice are those that are centred on the voices and priorities of those most affected by their cause. In this, they reflect God’s heart; an invitation to us all to participate, with a particular emphasis for those on the margins.  

The other week saw Earth Day, an annual event which celebrates the environmental movement. While for some, it can be co-opted to suggest green credentials that don’t bear out the rest of the year, but for many it is an entry point, a chance to meaningfully participate. What began in the US on 22 April 1970 is now marked by around one billion people – one in eight of us – around the world. It’s a particular moment to highlight action for this world that we share. This world with boundaries that are being tested and breached. Just a week earlier, communities in India and Pakistan were experiencing heat that tested the limits of human survival. Our bodies were not made for this kind of weather.  

The theme of this year’s Earth Day was ‘Our power, our planet’, with a particular emphasis on scaling up renewable energy. But I have found myself thinking about other kinds of power: the influence of people when they come together. Do we greet moments like this with cynicism, self-interested opportunism, or genuine expectation for change? In the face of horrifying headlines and lived injustice, what motivates people to keep going again for change? There are many likely reasons, often personal. To understand a few of the common ones, we need to go back to the beginning.  

“Much of my life goes irrelevantly on, in spite of larger events.” 

Nora Ephron 

In the opening passages of the Bible, the world was called ‘good',and the rest of the story is one of restoration; what has been broken being made whole and new. This articulates for us what we often intuit: the world was made to be better than this. Where cynicism offers a casual invitation to give up on change, when we look at our daily lives, we see the myriad ways that we demonstrate a quiet hope for tomorrow. Sowing seeds in spring is an act of faith that the summer will bloom. 

This conviction might manifest differently for each of us. For some of us, it means carrying a persistent hope in spite of the hurt we see and feel. For others, it might feel grittier. Like the irritation of a grain of sand in your shoe; you can’t walk on until you do something about it. Either way, it is a longing for something that is brighter and fairer and kinder than what we have right now. Something more resonant with the deep cries of our souls.   

Underlying these instincts is our God-given purpose. He made humans to draw even more goodness out of that which was baked into this world from the beginning. We were shaped to partner with God to see order brought out of chaos, freedom from captivity, a seed of renewal out of the grave. Allowing this to take root in our hearts can save us from a sense of nihilism, that nothing matters. 

Like many women of my generation, I am a fan of Nora Ephron’s writing. She famously wrote about taking part in movements and yet “Much of my life goes irrelevantly on, in spite of larger events.” There is welcome honesty in acknowledging how privilege can insulate against the impacts of injustice. But there is also a provocation in these words. When we respond to God’s invitation to participate in his restoration work, we find our relevancy in the work we were always made for. In other words, our choices can be meaningful.  

I may have stumbled into some movements, but I can see that these are invitations to move closer to each other. Acting for justice can require sacrifice of lifestyle, time, comfort. But outworking this together can also bring growth, empathy, joy. When we are weary, there is life to be found with others. God is inherently relational: three persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – co-existing as one. In this relationship is unity, service of each other, appreciation of each other’s gifts. With God’s likeness in each of us, we too made for this kind of community. Our movements are powerful when they are marked by such love, dignity and justice. Glimpsing this induces us to look beyond ourselves, to step towards people and circumstances. Being part of a movement is to choose to be in closer proximity with each other and the world we dwell in together.  

I remind myself that in such community, there is room to acknowledge weariness. At the same time, there is also an encouragement to move beyond disenchantment about days like Earth Day, about gloomy headlines, about discouragement or setbacks. It can be tempting to let our lives go irrelevantly on, but being part of a movement reminds us that we don’t have to settle for that.  

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