A study published by the Office of National Statistics initiated the latest round of headlines that ‘religion is good for your health’, with research suggesting atheists are less likely to feel in good health whilst non-believers are twice as likely to smoke, more likely to drink and have worse mental health. Recent research from the US has further suggested a correlation between church going and living longer.
Part of many faiths, of course, involves a commitment to try and live according to certain values or principles. With that comes certain prescriptions of ‘dos and don’ts’ which, if adhered to, may result in a longer life.
Far more interesting however is the relationship that the ONS report hints at between faith and wellbeing. It’s a subject which is attracting increased attention as we become more mental health literate as a society, with the Bishop of London speaking on this for The Guild of Health and St Raphael in March 2021. Through worshipping communities, an understanding of balance and the perspective of prayer, faith provides a good place to start in thinking about wellbeing.
In my own context in Wood Green, and in a city like London where I’ve lived and worked for over ten years, it’s all too easy to be anonymous, to adopt a kind of facelessness and loneliness is increasingly reported among Londoners. What faith offers is the opportunity to be part of a worshiping community. Being part of such a community means being known and the establishment of connection.
Being truly known means being known by one another and, as Christians believe, recognising that we are known and loved by God. Faith also acknowledges that our own health and wellbeing being is rooted in the wellbeing of others. This is evidenced by the great number of churches providing foodbanks, winter night shelters and youth clubs. Churches, synagogues and mosques all offer that sense of connection with the world around us; connection with others, with the natural world and ultimately with God.
It’s not just a comfort blanket. It’s not a magic pill. Anxiety and uncertainty can remain, but a healthy worshipping community will offer support, an antidote to loneliness and a space where anxiety and sufferings are shared and given a greater perspective. What comes with that also is accountability both to one another and to God; accountability that recognises we are all a work in progress but that the responsibility for each other’s wellbeing is something that is shared.
For Christians, part of our challenge is getting across the message that Church isn’t just somewhere we might go when we’re feeling good and presentable, but a diverse community which is there for us all both in times of joy and sorrow:
‘Churches are hospitals for sinners, not museums for saints’.
Faith is also about balance. So many secular health kicks, whether it’s the park run or the latest miraculous diet, are about absolutes, treating health like a consumer product and something we can acquire – salvation through the gym..(Whilst my colleagues and I offered ashing at Wood Green tube station on Ash Wednesday we were joined by someone distributing gym leaflets to rival our invitations to a Lenten journey!) We know, of course, that a focus solely on the physical won’t cut it and we’ve seen also the negative consequences this can yield around body image especially for young women.
What many faiths offer is a pattern of fasting and feasting, acknowledging that healthiness is about balance in body, mind and spirit. It’s a common misconception that faith merely robs life of its joys and indulgences. For example, when Christians enter the holy season of Lent, we remember that this period of fasting, penitence, giving things up, taking things on, recognising those things upon which we’ve become unhealthily dependent, isn’t about feeling gloomy. On the contrary, Lent is springtime! It’s about being fully prepared for the greatest feast of them all with the joy of Easter in 40 days time.
Finally, people of faith are people of prayer. Those not of faith often assume prayer is simply about asking things of God, presenting a shopping list of our individual wants and desires. Of course, in the midst of terrible pain or anguish many will ask God to make them well again. The human instinct to cry out relates significantly to prayer. More broadly however, the tradition of prayer over the centuries, and across faiths, is something much deeper and more profound about connecting with the very depths of our being.
Prayer is a centring of where our intentions ought to be. So often in public life, anger, frustration and blame make up the currency in which lots of issues are dealt with. Prayer is about centring ourselves on something far greater than our individual wills and impulses and recognising our shared dependence on God. It’s about recognising the life we live as a gift, counting our blessings, learning to live in gratitude, learning to be at home with oneself and with others and returning to that reality of God which is closer to us than we are to ourselves. The traditions of contemplative prayer, silent meditation and praying the psalms can help us to live in that spirit and offer rich resources for our wellbeing.
A life of faith won’t necessarily mean one lives to a ripe old age on this earth, but there is evidence to suggest that life, in all its fullness, will be known and experienced.