The British writer Douglas Murray contributed an eloquent essay to The Spectator on how he became an atheist. The title – deliberately provocative, I suspect, in these times of confusion over the role of Muslim culture and law in Britain – was “Studying Islam has made me an atheist”.

Gradually, scepticism of the claims made by one religion was joined by scepticism of all such claims. Incredulity that anybody thought an archangel dictated a book to Mohammed produced a strange contradiction. I found myself still clinging to belief in Christianity. I was trying to believe — though rarely arguing — ‘Well, your guy didn’t hear voices: but I know a man who did.’ This last, shortest and sharpest, phase pulled down the whole thing. In the end Mohammed made me an atheist.

What I found particularly interesting was his discussion of the concept of “cultural Christianity”.

My final fear was one which I think a lot of Christians in this country feel, particularly as they see Islam re-emerging and gaining adherents in spite (or perhaps because) of its intransigence and intractability. It is, I suppose, a sense of cultural abandonment. We know how much of what we enjoy and relish comes through Christianity. Can we really go on without it? Doesn’t it leave our building without foundations? Slowly I discover that it doesn’t. I still can’t pass a country church or cathedral without going in. The texts are still essential to me. They are just (and ‘just’ hardly does the job here) no more divine than Shakespeare.
The question of how, without believing it, we transmit the good of our historical faith to another generation is certainly problematic. Perhaps like many Jewish people who rejoice in their identity but don’t believe in God we could be better — and franker — at being cultural Christians.

This all seems very reasonable. And many atheists are happy to be “cultural Christians” – Richard Dawkins has often written of how he cheerfully celebrates Christmas. And I know many Jewish atheists, who don’t seem to get involved in public debates about whether their atheism is compatible with their Judaism. So what’s the problem?
It’s the Christians. Or, rather, the enthusiastic Christian believers who see the arcane but beautiful texts, rituals, and music as barriers to creating the kind of religious communities that they want. When I, like Douglas Murray, go into a wonderful old English country church, I delight in the experience right up to the moment that the service starts. And then the beautiful, timeless space is filled with banal language and trite (and ephemeral) music.
I have no problem with believers indulging in their rituals, ancient or modern. Chacun à son goût, and all that. But most of them seem actively opposed to the concept of “cultural Christianity”: they insist that if we are to enjoy the Christian heritage of England, we should do so on their terms. The rest of us are merely day-trippers, to be hit up for cash and then pushed out of the way when they want to exercise their “authentic” Christianity.
For the most part, I can ignore the enthusiasts and enjoy the culture. But it’s annoying to be treated as a tourist in your own country.