Article
Belief
Creed
General Election 24
Politics
3 min read

The one thing we won’t bet on

The election gambling row highlights an odd outlier.
A cartoon depicts a slot machine opposite the Houses of Parliament
Nick Jones/Midjourney.ai.

I’m not a betting man, but I’ll wager you’ve seen a gambling ad recently.  

In fact, I’d put good money on it – or at least somebody has. 

 

If you’ve been watching football you’ll see ads for betting companies in the ad breaks, on billboards – sometimes on the kit itself. 

And then there are the grinning celebrity endorsers, each advertising a wonderful world of chance-based amusements. 

That’s a lot of money on billboards and sponsorships. 

  

And on our high streets up and down the country, you’re never very far from a betting shop, each of them with windows guaranteeing the best odds and offering free bets on well, almost anything, really. 

If you can think of it, you can probably bet on it. 

Sports fixtures? The results of reality TV shows? The date of the next general election? 

Can you bet on it? You betcha! 

  

Betting is everywhere, though it’s fair to say there’s a bit more of it in some places than others. 

Betting shops are 10 times more likely to be found in the most deprived areas of the UK than its most wealthy ones. 

Still – even if you happen to find yourself without a betting shop in walking distance, with smartphone betting now there’s no need to even pop into a bookies.  

The fun needs never stop. 

All this proves is that gambling is everywhere and that people will put a bet on almost anything. 

With such universal access, I shouldn’t have been surprised that people have been betting on the date of the next general election.  

I have heard many people say that a little flutter brings a bit of excitement to things – and if anything is in need of a bit of excitement, it’s a general election.  

Perhaps it was this need to alleviate the tedium which has led to the seemingly improbable number of people from the Conservative Party now under investigation by the Gambling Commission. At current count, there are two candidates, as well as the Tory director of campaigning and his wife. Oh, and one of the Prime Minister’s police protection officers.  

By the time you read this – there may be more. And no, please don’t place a bet on that. 

  

Am I disappointed that public officials may have been using insider information to gain an advantage at the bookies? I suppose so. But that’s not what I find interesting. 

All this proves is that gambling is everywhere and that people will put a bet on almost anything. 

And well, I already knew that. 

  

No – what is interesting is that in our society people will bet on almost anything. Or more specifically – everything, except one thing.  

  

When it comes to betting on whether England will score, or who will win at Strictly, a hunch is enough. A gut feeling is enough to separate us from our hard earned cash.  

But when it comes to whether or not there is a God, nope. 

We’re going to need hard evidence for that one.  

We’re going to need absolute certainty, incontrovertible proof.  

No margin for error.  

  

We’ll bet on anything else – everything else. But not that. 

Which, I have to say, strikes me as odd.  

Why won’t we take out a bet that costs us nothing?  

  

Most of us in Church are there because of a hunch. A gut feeling. We call it faith, and it’s a free gift. 

Do you care for a wager? 

Snippet
Creed
Fun & play
Music
2 min read

The nuns leaning into the serious business of fun

The beats breaking down barriers

Jamie is Vicar of St Michael's Chester Square, London.

Two nuns with a band rap on stage
Sister Marizele and Sister Marisa.

Summer is for letting your hair down and water pistols. But in an age where we're super-soaked with content online, how did a couple of nuns in Brazil emerge through the saturation? As Sister Marizele sang and beatboxed, Sister Marisa danced on a Brazilian Catholic television show. They've now recorded their song, 'Vocation'. 

Even though their online content was more about vocation than vacation, it's attracted huge numbers. “Why did something so simple and spontaneous take on such a huge scale?” asked Sister Marizele, “Because the Holy Spirit wants to touch people’s hearts.” “But besides the Holy Spirit,” she told the New York Times, “there’s also the algorithm.” 

The algorithm's clearly helped. One of the nuns' colleagues came back from vacation to keep the content going online. Instead of only a handful of prospective nuns per year, they had over 50 women get in touch in a matter of days to ask about embarking on the life of a nun ahead. The nuns believe that God wants to draw young people to church in a country where church attendance has dropped off a cliff. Perhaps they should seek advice from Whoopi Goldberg, who has given them her blessing as a 'real-life ‘Sister Act’.  

They aren't the only ones. Father David Michael is an American Catholic priest on Instagram (sometimes breakdancing) with 1.2 million followers who combines an uncompromising message with a sophisticated understanding of the need to hook people in the first three seconds of a video. This all doesn't paint the the staid picture of the church we expect. The iconoclastic act of beatboxing on TV isn't just breaking down beats, but the image of religion as being fun-averse.  

Perhaps there's more to fun than meets the eye. We might misconceive fun as shallow, frivolous and lacking in depth. But you can be both a nun, and fun. Maybe it's not just a case of unexpected possibility, but actually intrinsic to those with vocations in faith. 

Yesterday I returned from a crematorium in the front passenger seat of the empty hearse. The driver, along with hilarious stories of funerals gone wrong, also told me about losing his own child ten years ago. 'They say time's a great healer. But it isn't. You don't get over it. You learn to cope with not getting over it.' Those who have suffered and still carry unimaginable pain can know what it is to laugh. 

It's a similar depth of fun from the nuns that can speak into pain. Far from a gimmick, their skills haven't just been breaking down beats, but barriers. According to Sister Marizele, they've been "an instrument to become closer and break down barriers" with young women at drug and alcohol rehabilitation centres, where they otherwise had little to connect over. 

It might seem an odd segue, but it's striking that Jesus' first miracle was turning water into wine at a wedding party. The sheer abundance of the wine signifies the abundance of what's possible when nuns lean into fun: restoration and community for addicts, purpose for people considering their calling, and – simply – joy. Joy for countless millions around the world watching on. Joy, as CS Lewis said, is the serious business of heaven.