Episode 2 My Mediterranean with Adrian Chiles

I believe in God.

Don't know why. Always have.

Never had a religion, hardly ever went to church, but then,

about ten years ago, just before I was 40, I became a Catholic.

Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo.

I've come to wondering - if I'd been born in another place,

could I just as easily been a Jew or a Muslim?

After all, they believe in one God.

And, I assume, it's the same God.

I've come to the Mediterranean, where Jews, Christians

and Muslims have lived cheek by jowl with, let's be honest,

limited success for as long as anybody cares to remember.

And I hope,

believe, even pray,

that we actually have more to unite us than divide us.

Last week, I was made equally welcome by Muslims in Istanbul...

and Jews in Jerusalem.

Both were happy for me to join in their religious celebrations,

and just as happy to agree with each other and me

that it's the same God we live under.

We believe one God, and in different kind of religion.

To my dismay, on that question, it was only the Christians -

specifically the evangelicals - who begged to differ.

Love all people, by all means, but there's only one way to salvation.

Apparently convinced that the way of Jesus is the only way,

and the Muslim's God is nothing to do with them.

All, for me, quite disconcerting.

And so to Rome, in the hope of some reassurance.

Headquarters of the Roman Catholic Church and, by extension,

I suppose, spiritual home to me

and the other 1.2 billion-odd Catholics on the planet.

Whether you're full of faith - any faith - or have no faith at all -

this place will surely blow you away.

Turn any corner, and antiquity - Christian, pagan or whatever -

will almost floor you with its abundance.

In terms of my religion,

the sense of Christian history here lifts me up.

Though I struggle with the sheer opulence of it all.

Nowhere do those two things collide more spectacularly

than at the Vatican, where I've secured an audience -

albeit not a very private one - with the chairman

and chief executive of God's holy Church, his Holiness, Pope Francis.

APPLAUSE

Francis is my kind of Pope - a benign, human, father figure.

He says the true defenders of doctrine are not those who

uphold its letter, but its spirit.

More conservative Catholics aren't so sure about that,

but, personally, I think he's bang on.

Every Sunday, whenever he's in Rome,

the Pope appears at his window to address and bless the adoring crowd.

It's quite sweet, this.

It's basically shout-outs to the different groups

that he's heard are here.

That's it. He's gone. The papal carpet will be pulled in.

I must say, what I liked about that

is the general reverence of the atmosphere.

There was none of the kind of dreaded fervour.

Just devotion, really. I liked that.

Although, as I understood it,

the message he was preaching was from today's reading, the New Testament.

Basically it was saying,

leave all your earthly riches behind, you don't need them.

Which, if I may point out, is a little bit rich,

given we're here amongst probably the most opulent place on earth.

But I'll set that to one side.

Nitpicking. Shouldn't do it, really.

Jesus did say it's easier to get a camel through an eye of a needle

than a rich man into heaven.

Help is immediately at hand on that one,

as they're very happy to relieve tourists of their riches round here.

You can't, as far as I can see, buy a camel anywhere.

But the range of holy trinkets and trophies is on a quite, well,

biblical scale.

It's got to be said that, of all the strands of all the religions in

the world, the Catholics are absolute world champions when it comes to tat.

I mean, this is nice.

But I don't know where I'd put it.

I don't know how I'd get it home.

It's 420 euros - they don't come cheap, these things.

See, if I had that in the home,

apart from disconcerting any guests I might have,

it'd be a bit of a worry for me.

I think the eyes'd end up following me around the room.

Time to sit down and take stock.

Not spiritually, you understand, rather as to what I've plumped for

from the whole barrage of bric-a-brac.

It was an agonising choice, that shopping trip.

Finally, I've come away with three things.

I've got these little baby Jesuses.

And I'm very pleased with them.

An extremely useful keyring,

bottle opener

and nail clipper.

That's what a useful pope we've got at the moment -

can do three things at once.

And, my personal favourite,

a Pope Francis bobblehead

in a Popemobile.

If I want guidance on something, I'm going to shake it.

And if it nods, I'll go ahead.

If it shakes, I'll desist.

I won't do it.

Joking apart, the current pope speaks a language I understand.

Only just before Christmas,

he spoke of Christians and Muslims being brothers.

It seems he believes in one God watching over us all,

whether or not we're in his flock.

That's in stark contrast to the evangelicals I met on the Dead Sea,

who, with all their exuberant certainty,

had me wondering whether I'm fit to call myself a Christian at all.

After that experience,

I'd really have liked a chat with the Pope himself.

But, even better,

my favourite priest happens to be in town for a theological conference.

Truly, the Holy Spirit moves in mysterious ways.

Father Gianni of my parish in West London is apparently

so sure God is watching over him, he's willing to put his life

in my hands, by placing his priestly posterior on my pillion.

-You're feeling very snug there, Father, I must say.

-Yeah.

Too much intimacy.

If the worst was to happen now, is it to my benefit that I've expired

with a priest, or does the fact that I've brought about the demise

-of a priest make it even worse for me?

-Yeah, exactly.

It could go either way, I'm not quite sure.

He's a priest!

Are you married yet? He'll do it for you if you like!

Gianni is a Roman Catholic priest from the order of Augustinian Friars.

He radiates humanity, intelligence and, most important of all,

sort of normality.

If I've got doubts to download,

there's no-one I'd rather share them with.

I mean...

I've doubted at times whether I even belong, really.

What I don't get is those who think they have a monopoly of the truth.

And that, to me, from my short amount of study on these things,

the Christians are the worst at this.

From the more evangelical arm,

they wouldn't even have it that it's the same god as the Muslims.

Jesus Christ is the route to salvation,

or you are damned, you're off to hell.

If you accept the idea that God is beyond us, God is greater than us.

But also, that in all these religions,

there is an idea of this one God,

it means that actually everyone is our brother and sister.

Because we're all made by the one God.

It's not that there's one God that makes the Jews

and another God who makes the Christians.

So no matter what we believe,

in terms of differences of religion, of theological differences,

the Christian, certainly, is someone who should say, actually,

everyone is my brother and sister.

I've come to be suspicious, or weary of, theology. The study of religion.

Trying to work it all out. As we've said, you can't work it all out!

Because it has to be mysterious.

In getting into detail,

I keep saying over and over again -

the devil, quite literally, is in the detail.

Looking at the detail, you will only find the devil. So just leave it!

You're doing theology right now.

Even that statement is theology.

So, in other words...

Oh, no!

You can't avoid it, you can't get away from it.

But, potentially, if you take that to its extreme conclusion,

you could be saying we shouldn't think.

That thinking is dangerous, or thinking is the root of all evil.

When actually, it's ignorance and fear,

and the inability to question that leads to problems.

The opposite of love is fear.

And if we build our religion on fear,

then that's a total misunderstanding of how to approach God.

Not for the first time,

Gianni's kindness and wisdom puts a spring in my step.

He's pulled a few strings and got me

a meeting with the next best thing to the Pope himself - a cardinal.

One of barely 200 in the Catholic Church.

How do you feel about going to see the Cardinal?

It's the confession bit I'm worried about.

Don't even worry about that. All he wants to know is the sins.

-Paint with a broad brush.

-Yeah!

So, am I really a Christian or not?

In the shadow of St Peter's,

Cardinal Prospero Grech gives me a brisk, theological cross-examination.

You say you became a Catholic.

Well, why?

You felt something within you, didn't you?

I just felt comfortable in a quiet Catholic Church.

In Britain or abroad.

With people a bit like me. I really still do.

I can't fully explain it. So...

That is exactly where God is.

Because we can't fully explain God in Himself,

and we can't fully explain God in ourselves, in our own hearts.

We can't really define Him.

See, to define is to limit, and He is unlimited.

OK, what about ordinary, flawed mortals like me?

I'm divorced, so I'm in a state of perennial sin,

or wrong in front of God.

So I could never be pure.

I can just try my best. Can I still call myself a Catholic?

It's not a question of just being Catholic, you see?

I know that the Catholic faith asks very much of human nature.

But it also believes in grace.

And that means the power

and the illumination of the Holy Spirit within us.

And that's how we Catholics, sinners, all of us, go on.

As the Cardinal doesn't seem inclined to excommunicate me on the spot,

I pluck up my courage and seize an opportunity.

A great blot on my conscience,

as I speak to my friend Father Gianni about, is that

I took confession before my first Communion, which I'm sorry to say

was eight and a half years ago

and I've been too frightened to go again since.

Now I don't know whether you've got time. It might be a long time.

It...well... Is it a confession of BBC?

No. No, no. It's not an on-air confession.

-Well, let's say we can have a chat now.

-OK.

-When it's over.

-When the microphone's off. OK.

-Good.

-Right.

There's no confession box handy but I'm told you can make

a confession anywhere, so it looks as though I've no place to hide.

And it's a daunting prospect, telling a 90-year-old man things you

haven't shared with some of your closest friends.

And this sinner's got a fair bit to get off his chest.

It's a bit shaky on my feet. I haven't been thrown out.

-I've come out voluntarily.

-Yeah!

-Yeah, yeah!

-Um, well, what can I say?

-A good conversation?

-It's such a relief. I can't...

-It's such a relief to have had that conversation.

-Yeah.

Anyway, he's a very nice man, thank goodness. I give thanks.

No more listening to my... Give me a hug.

There's actually a bit more to say about what I've just heard.

But first, I need to get my head round it.

I would've thought a cardinal's absolution

guaranteed a guiltless sleep, but it's a dark and stormy night

I spent fitfully wrestling with my conscience

under the Pope's watchful eye.

And morning doesn't bring much relief.

I don't want to give in to silly superstition but this is a worry.

It is surely more than a coincidence that having made my first

confession in eight and a half years to a cardinal, I wake up

the following morning in the Eternal City in a biblical downpour.

Seeking shelter from the storm,

I find sanctuary in one of Rome's 900 churches,

where a lovely Italian family are welcoming

their beautiful baby into the faith at a baptism mass.

Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo. Amen.

I was baptised as a baby.

And odd decision by my parents, actually,

given they're both staunch atheists.

The Bible teaches us that ever since Adam and Eve disobeyed God

by eating the forbidden fruit, we're all born with this original sin.

Christians believe that baptism symbolically washes this sin away.

PRIEST SPEAKS ITALIAN INDISTINCTLY

Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo. Amen.

And our family and our friends, thank you so much.

APPLAUSE

This quiet religiosity is the aspect of Roman Catholicism I really

like and my spirits are raised by Mass.

But as I step out of the church,

I want to get off my chest what passed between me

and the Cardinal during that rooftop confession the other day.

Now, you know, the nuts and bolts of the confession will

remain between me and him but there's one big thing, which is divorce.

If divorced, basically, you're in bad odour with the Catholic Church.

And I know a lot of divorced Catholics really struggle with that, as do their priest.

Cardinal Grech decided he wanted to help and his suggestion was,

"Well, get an annulment.

"To make it nothing, like it never was."

But it was nice of him to try and help

but I can't believe THAT'S the solution.

I've got two kids, apart from anything else.

What am I supposed to say to them? That the marriage never existed?

You know - it did!

So, you know, it was great to meet him,

but being here generally, as with everything else on this journey,

just raises as many questions as it answers.

Heavy stuff. I think I need a little break from all this Catholicism,

so I cross the river Tiber to the Jewish quarter.

There's been a Jewish community here since the days of the Roman Empire,

two centuries before the Christians arrived.

In 1555,

a papal decree confined all the Jews of Rome to a marshy area

next to the river, which became known as the Ghetto.

The rule was only finally abolished in 1870.

By 1904, the Jewish community had built this imposing grand synagogue,

designed to stand proud

amongst the architectural splendour of Christian Rome.

My guide here is the charming Giacomo Moscati.

He's invited me to join him for Shacharit - morning prayers.

He takes me through the frankly bewildering array of rituals involved.

-This is a shawl...

-Yeah.

..that we wear every day, every morning, to say the prayer.

Have we... He's started... Is he... He's gone a bit...

-Yes. This is the...

-He's gone a bit early. Don't we have to join in?

-Behind, you can join him.

-But I don't understand. Don't you all do it together?

-Yes.

-So why has he started early? He's just very enthusiastic?

-Yes.

If there are more than ten peoples, he can't say the prayer. OK?

Then we have to put this

on our upper arm,

-and this on our forehead.

-Yeah.

In this box, the smallest box, there are parchment, written of Torah.

'These small prayer scrolls, known in Hebrew as Tefillin,'

are worn for morning prayers.

They're placed on the arm near to the heart

and on the head next to the brain,

to show that these two major organs will work in the service of God.

Now I'm all for a bit of religious ritual, but it would

take me more than one morning of prayers to get my head round this lot.

-Extremely complicated business, this.

-No.

What, wrapping it seven times round and making a little X here?

-It's complicated!

-No!

You see - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

-Hang on. One, two, three, four... That's eight.

-OK.

-One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

-Sorry.

-I was counting that one.

-Without this. Without this.

-OK.

So I'm still not... Have we started or haven't we started?

In a Catholic church,

everyone sits quietly then the priest comes in and that's it.

It's kick-off. We start.

Here, somebody's started and somebody else hasn't.

-No, no, wait, wait.

-Somebody's getting ready, but when does it start?

-Does somebody blow the whistle?

-Is beginning.

-So have we started now?

-Yes.

-OK.

-Not now.

-Not now.

-The rabbi wait. The rabbi will go there.

-OK.

-Can we sit down now?

-No. Wait.

'Enchanted, if somewhat discombobulated,'

by the freestyle nature of the morning service, I hang on

until it's unmistakably clear that the prayers have finally finished.

By this stage in my journey, I can't pass any kind of cleric

without badgering them about my doubts,

so now it's the turn of the Chief Rabbi of Rome, Dr Di Segni.

I became a Catholic just cos I felt comfortable in a Catholic church, but

I believe in God but I think I might be better at being Jewish, really.

I've only just become a Catholic so I can't become Jewish now. It would be ridiculous.

It's not...it's very difficult to become Jewish, isn't it?

It's not like you can become a Christian,

and Christians invite that.

But if you want to do it, you...

I saw an interview with you.

And you were asked, you now, that's the essence of being Jewish?

And you took a long time to answer.

You thought about it for a long time, but why is it so complicated?

But isn't the essence of any faith just believe in God, number one?

But you can't obey something you don't believe in, so number one is believing.

OK, so you don't necessarily need to believe in God, then, to be Jewish?

Call me old-fashioned but I'd always thought a belief in God was

the number one basic requirement for any faith, not least Judaism.

Truly, the whole question of faith is full of surprises.

One Jewish tradition I do feel a bit envious of is the Friday night dinner.

Rome's ancient Jewish community is 15,000-strong and being a hospitable

lot, an invitation to a family Shabbat dinner is soon forthcoming.

Baruch atah, Adonai, Eloheinu,

melech haolam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav,

v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat.

It comes from the Nacamuli family.

Though not wildly observant,

they maintain the tradition of gathering every week to

welcome in the Sabbath and are only too pleased to demonstrate

how they do it to a hungry gentile.

ALL: Buon appetito.

That soup is lovely. You must give me the recipe for the soup.

-It's very spicy, the oil.

-It's lovely.

The Jewish traditional food, and the Italian food,

it's really almost the same thing.

Because especially in Rome,

because Jews have been here for longer than anybody else,

so the Jewish cuisine is actually really part of the Roman tradition.

This is stracotto.

I've heard of it. I don't know it.

It's a typical recipe.

Yeah.

-That we make on Shabbat...

-Yeah.

..because on Shabbat, you don't cook. OK?

And this is something that you can leave on the platta for hours,

and it can stay there,

from the start of the Shabbat until the lunchtime, for example.

'And as I learnt in Israel, for the most observant Jews,

'there's a list of rules that go on as long as you like.'

So would you not go out on a Saturday?

-No, you can go out on a Saturday but don't take the car.

-OK.

-For example, myself, I go with my children to synagogue.

-Yeah.

-Er, walking.

-Mm, and what about using electricity in the house?

-I switch electricity on and off but I don't cook.

-Right.

I prepare everything that I need to eat before in advance

and I don't cook. I don't light the fire.

So the extent to which you do observe it, is it about religious faith,

or is it about culture?

Actually, um, we follow the rules for religion

but also for our identity, for our tradition,

-to teach to our children, to be Jew in the future.

-Yeah.

There is a mix of reason why everybody decide to follow

the rules and try to keep the tradition in the future.

-Do you want some more meat?

-I do want some more meat.

I thought you'd never ask. I really want the meat!

THEY LAUGH

It was really great to be part of that.

I feel a bit sad that we haven't got more of that.

It's a good example of religious ritual being put to some good use.

You know, it's a good, sensible thing, a kind of a semi-compulsory

meeting of the family and get-together every Friday night.

Of course, we sort of had it with Sunday lunch, or at least I did,

but that's sort of gone a little bit.

I don't know, I wish I had a regular Friday night.

It would certainly beat what I normally do, which is

just go to the pub and wonder by how many goals West Brom are going

to lose by the following day.

It's altogether more wholesome.

It's time to wave Rome goodbye and head for the magnificent

port city of Marseille, one of my favourite places.

There's no better time to arrive here than early morning,

when the catch has just been landed on the quayside.

You don't have to cast your net very far in the Bible

to bring in some fish.

Many of Jesus' early disciples were fishermen.

There's the loaves and the fishes, and the odd bit of walking on water,

which must have startled the poor fish no end.

The fishing fleet is a big part of Marseille's heart.

As is a gutsy, uncompromising working-class ethic,

as is the Catholic Church.

Bang in the middle of this trinity, is Father Michel.

He's what's known as a worker-priest.

I'd never come across the worker-priest movement before

but I like the sound of it as much as I like the cut of this lovely man's cloth.

It all started in Marseille's docks in 1941.

In an attempt to reach out to what the Church judged was France's

increasingly secularised working-class, some priests

were relieved of their usual duties and sent out into industry.

Michel chose fishing.

So in your 50 years being a worker-fisherman-priest,

how many fishes have you caught and how many souls have you saved?

ADRIAN LAUGHS I thought it was...

..like that, not like that.

I must say, the idea of a worker-priest sounds perfect for me.

I don't know why there's not more of that about at home

and everywhere else. It does help when you're somebody like him.

It would make you laugh in any language. I don't speak French and I was killing myself laughing

at everything he said!

'As it happens, I'm in the market for a nice fish,

'as I've heard tell of some missionary sisters in the church

'on the hill who will cook it for me.'

-That one?

-Oui.

OK, OK. Shall we have two? Deux?

Deux. OK, Deux.

They are... Des poissons.

-WOMAN:

-Ventiquattro.

Ventiquattro.

-24!

-24.

THEY LAUGH

C'est bien! Merci, madame.

I head up to the top of the hill to the magnificent

Catholic Basilica of Notre-Dame de la Garde.

It's the architectural gem of the city from where La Bonne Mere,

as she's lovingly known, watches over the sailors

and fishermen far below.

The Basilica, as well as offering spiritual nourishment,

has a restaurant attached to it,

serving the traditional Provencal food of the region.

It's run by Carmelite missionary sisters from all over the world

and I meet Marie-Jo, who runs the place.

-Where's the head chef from? She's from which country?

-From Burkina Faso.

-From Burkina Faso?

-Yes.

-Oh, it's exotic.

-West Africa.

-And this lady?

-Jessica, from Peru.

-From Peru!

-America the South.

-So Vietnam, Burkina Faso and Peru.

-Yes.

-The whole world's here!

-The whole world! It is true.

To get the waitress, what do I shout?

-Serveuse!

-Service! Service!

Oh, look at that! That's it.

THEY LAUGH

-Wine, as well. It's a bit early! It's only 2.30.

-Not too bad.

We're in France!

Cheers!

Introductions done,

Marie-Jo and I settle down for a chat while her cooks of all countries

work their magic on the fish Father Michel picked for us this morning.

What many people understand by missionary is that it's your job to

convert people to Christianity but you don't want to do that.

-You don't want to make Muslims into Christians or Jews into Christians?

-No.

Yeah.

OK.

-Remind me of what vows you make. What are the vows?

-Ah, the vows, yes.

Do you ever think sometimes,

maybe you could have been married to somebody else and had children?

-Sure.

-And you could still have thought about Jesus.

-Sure.

Yes.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

But sometimes you've seen a handsome boy, and you've thought...

I love you so much. You're the best!

She admits to admiring handsome boys!

-I'm sorry I'm not more handsome.

-No, it's OK.

'Hm. Nice of her to forgive me for not being handsome!

'Not quite the response I was looking for, but there you go!

'At least I'm not putting temptation in her way!'

-Bon appetit!

-Bon appetit, thank you.

My Christian cup overflows.

I love the likes of Father Michel and Marie-Jo.

They've taken their vows and given their lives to God, but expressed

their faith doing real proper jobs, not getting in anyone's face,

just being happy and kind and making me, for one, want to be the same way.

-Very good.

-Yeah.

-Tres bon.

-Tres bon. Delicieux.

With the mystery of faith - albeit fleetingly - clear to me,

and my belly full of fine fish, I wonder into the Basilica.

This turns out, appropriately to me at this moment,

to be a sort of temple of gratitude.

This is where people have come to give thanks to Notre Dame, Our Lady.

They've done so since the 14th century and they give a gift,

just give thanks, for surviving a shipwreck, in many cases.

So that's why all these model boats are here.

This idea of having someone to thank is absolutely central to it all for me.

I sort of feel quite blessed in my life for being very lucky

and I just feel the urge to give thanks for that.

That's what it's all about. It just seems almost impolite not to.

Thanks to France's North African colonies,

Marseille is a right old melting pot of Abrahamic faiths.

It's got the third biggest Jewish population in Europe.

And in the fullness of time, it's thought it'll be the first

city in western Europe with a Muslim majority.

And that's a thought that unsettles a few people.

Marseille's position just across the Med from Algeria, Tunisia and Libya

means it's long been a magnet for Muslims of all persuasions.

It's an intoxicating confusion of races and religions,

exemplified by 35-year-old businessman, Ezzedine Glamhala.

Like me, he came to religion late but, unlike mine, his family weren't atheist.

He had the full house of Abrahamic faiths to choose from.

Just tell us about your family. Who's what?

-They're not all Muslim, are they?

-No. My father is Muslim.

-My mum is born Christian.

-Yeah.

-And my stepfather is Jewish.

So why did you choose Islam?

Because I found in Islam what I couldn't found in Judaism

and also what I couldn't found in Christianism.

When you have the faith, your life changes.

-I found - how you say in English? - a sense?

-Yeah.

-A sense in the life.

So until then, you were just a normal young Frenchman - nice-looking,

smoke, drink, beautiful girls everywhere!

All charming and everybody loves you.

You were just like a normal Frenchman.

-Yes.

-Yeah!

But you're...you're still the same now, just without the wine and the girls!

-Uh-huh!

-Exactly. Exactly.

Despite the city's religious diversity,

Marseille's quarter of a million Muslims mostly worship

in ad hoc prayer rooms in converted shops, garages and apartments.

There's no big central mosque.

-If we look out that window there, there's a magnificent cathedral on the hill.

-Mm-hm.

Yet there are almost as many Muslims and Christians in this town

-but there's no grand mosque. Is it important to you?

-Yes, it is.

-It's reconnaissance for the Muslim community in Marseille.

-Recognition?

Yes. And we need a big mosque to greet all the Muslims

for Eid al-Fitr and Eid el Kabir.

-OK, for the big festivals.

-Yes.

-So why isn't it being built? Is it...

Is it the right-wing politicians' fault? Is it the city's fault?

Is it the Muslim community's fault for not being organised enough?

I would say it's just a matter of time. We are a young community.

And if we want to make this project come true,

we have to take from some Western values

as management,

communication, organisation,

and then we will move forwards on the project

of the construction of the great mosque in Marseille.

Marseille's Muslims got permission to build a grand mosque in 2001,

but for one reason on another it's not materialised.

Ezzedine takes me to a small mosque in the suburbs that he likes to go to.

And he's promised to introduce me to the imam.

-Is he good with Christians?

-Yes. Sure, yes.

-He doesn't mind me going?

Oh, good.

I'm told this imam is an important figure in Marseille's Muslim community,

so I'm happy to hear from Ezzedine that I'll be made welcome at the mosque.

Cleanliness is next to godliness in all three Abrahamic faiths.

Most of all, though, apparently in Islam.

Ezzedine shows me how he performs his ritual ablutions before prayer.

So this is the place where we make the wudu.

Yeah.

-Before, we always have to make the intention.

-You've got to think...

-In your heart...

-Yeah.

-..that you want to do the ablution.

-Yeah, OK.

-This is the most important.

OK. So you're not just doing it. You're thinking about it.

Yeah and then you say Bismillah.

Bismillah.

-Oh, you've got to wash your mouth as well?

-Mm.

-Then your face.

-Yeah.

-Three times is better.

I didn't know this. This is very thorough. It's a proper clean.

-I thought it was just symbolic.

-No.

Once cleansed, Ezzedine takes me into the mosque,

and while we wait for prayers he talks me through the decor.

Because Islam regards figurative religious art as idolatry,

a rich tradition of calligraphy has evolved.

You don't have pictures on the walls, obviously. I understand why.

So all this writing here, so what does all that say?

This is the 99 names of Allah.

OK. Does it say Allah there?

No, it's just some names as Karim.

-Which means...?

-It means "the most generous".

-Yeah.

Or Hakim, which is "the one who has the knowledge".

OK. That's 97 to go. Can you remember them all?

HE SPEAKS ARABIC OK.

You see, I can't check this.

I can't check this because I don't speak Arabic.

So give us some in English.

"The generous".

"The peace".

"The knowledge".

'I like the order and solemnity of it all

'and especially the particular physical communion

'as they all move together in a rhythm they are so familiar with.

'Christians do a fair amount of sitting and standing and kneeling,

'but the Catholic gymnastics I practise have nothing on this.

'I must say, I find it really very easy to get swept along

'with the quiet intensity of it all.'

What I thought about the prayers today,

it is very athletic.

Even just sitting like this is difficult to me

and the imam, look, it's easy for him.

THEY LAUGH

But you can... If you cannot,

-you can pray and take a seat.

-Yeah.

It's possible.

Like, even someone who could not move his body

-could pray with only his eyes.

-Yeah.

-You smile a lot. He's always smiling.

-Yeah.

Is he the happiest imam in France?

In Islam, the prophet Mohammed said

when you give a smile to someone, it is like charity.

I can imagine this imam preaching love and peace and tolerance.

There are many imams who preach the opposite of that,

even perhaps in this city.

Mm-hm.

So what does he say to them?

It's hard work being a Muslim.

The more complex this faith business becomes for me,

the simpler it also becomes.

The imam just got a smile on his face,

radiated good humour and warmth.

He couldn't have been more accommodating.

And I love it that smiling is even recommended by the Prophet.

I hate to oversimplify things, but look,

that's just what it's all about.

'The growing Muslim population creates all sorts of challenges,

'not least in education.

'State schools in France are entirely secular.

'Faith schools are all private.

'I am instinctively against faith schools,

'worrying they just reinforce prejudice,

'but Tour Sainte is a Catholic school

'to which many Muslim parents choose to send their children.'

So, this is a Muslim area

-but this is a Roman Catholic school?

-Yes, it is.

So, what percentage of the school are Roman Catholic?

-We have 80% of Muslims inside the school.

-80%?

-Yes.

So, it begs the question, why do they come here?

They come here to have a good education.

They know that teachers can follow them to succeed,

and the second thing is, because we are a Catholic school

and they can also find God inside the school.

-But you are not trying to turn them into Christians?

-No, not at all.

-It's just because there is religion inside...

-Yeah.

-..with a moral.

So, what do you do about religious education here, then?

It is a Catholic school, so you teach Catholic doctrine.

Not really.

We have, during the week,

one hour which the subject is religions.

With plural.

It's an inter-faith thing?

You are learning to respect each other's faiths?

I have a Jewish teacher.

He's an Italian teacher,

and every two weeks there is an imam and Father Vincent who come.

So, you've got a priest and an imam here?

Yes, and they all talk with the children.

For example, they can talk about Abraham

and what we can share all together.

It can't been easy for an imam to come here.

-I had to find him!

-Yeah.

It's not easy, but some of the imam

are open mind and they say, "OK, if I can help you

"and make a dialogue with the pupils, no problem."

I'm so impressed by Mme Sabatier's

fiercely inter-faith approach to education,

especially as her task is getting harder all the time.

So, it sounds like some kind of paradise for me.

-It is.

-It sounds perfect, it sounds like...utopia.

-SHE LAUGHS But it can't be that simple.

-Mm.

So, when does it stop being simple?

OK, it...

..it was like a paradise, but I can say that things are changing.

The French are living through dark days

in their battle against Islamic radicalisation.

It's a challenge this head teacher confronts every day.

Some of my pupils, they say, "I'm not more any French, I'm a Muslim."

So we try to say you can be both.

But they say, "No, France is not any more a welcome country."

I say, "You were born here." So, what do you say?

So, they don't know what they are

and I think for this pupil all the doors are closing, you know?

And they say, "My future is very complicated."

"So now, I close my own doors and I say, "OK, I'm a Muslim.

"You want to see me as a Muslim, I'm a Muslim."

And my mother, she now has a hijab

and we eat just halal, we go to the mosque on Friday

and we know that these mosques are not official mosques.

So, amidst all this,

there's the Catholic parents, and the Jewish parents.

What do they say to you?

I just have just a few Jewish pupils,

but they don't say they are Jewish.

The Catholics are leaving the district.

In September, we had 12 families who went away.

Some of them left, they moved from Marseille,

and some of them say,

"We choose another school, because some of, Catholic school

"next to me, they choose only Catholic families."

You came here because you believe in inter-faith,

-you believe...

-Yes.

-..it's about God,

that we're educated in God's eyes here,

Muslims, Catholics, Jews, whatever you like.

Do you still believe that?

Yes, I'm optimistic, and I love all my pupils.

I love them and I want them to have a good education

so they could choose their own way.

On this trip, and in fact, actually, in all my born days,

I've never met...anybody more inspirational, I don't think.

If only all head teachers could be like that,

and I've met some really good ones.

What she's trying to do is so difficult.

But it's just so important. She needs...

..you know, the help of the imam,

there's lots in the Muslim community who wouldn't want her to succeed.

There's probably...

..lots in the Catholic community who wouldn't want her to succeed,

but I just desperately want it to work for them.

And...

..it's so important that she succeeds. You know,

if it doesn't work, that says something really dark and terrible.

If it does, and if anyone can make it work it's her,

then truly, I think there, there might be hope.

The final destination on my journey

is the sacred Catholic site of Montserrat in north-east Spain.

As it's so close to Barcelona, it seems rude not to stop by.

It's the first time I've seen this,

one of its religious and architectural icons -

Gaudi's famous modernist Basilica of the Sagrada Familia.

To be honest, I'm not fussed about the Basilica.

Pardon the pun, bit GAUDI. That, however, is impressive.

DISTANT DRUMROLL

Look how cute those little nippers are crawling up the side.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

I suppose dreaming up a monumental,

bizarre-looking basilica is one way of showing your devotion to God.

But I'm generally rather more moved

by the countless simple acts of charity

done in God's name the world over,

the best example of which I've come across in Barcelona

is Caliu, a community kitchen founded by five parish churches.

The volunteers serve breakfast every day to as many as 250 people in need.

I dragged myself out of bed at a most ungodly hour to see them at work.

INDISTINCT

-Hi.

-Buenos dias.

-Morning.

-Hi, how are you?

-How are you?

Good to see you.

So, tell me, how did you end up working here?

Oh, you used to use it? Yeah.

Yeah.

So, does this make you less convinced about God,

or more convinced about God?

-The what, sorry?

-Goodness.

-Goodness, yes.

Some priests will say you only see God through people,

so when you see the goodness in people, you see God.

That's it, that's it.

What does this, what does this word mean, "Caliu"? What does it..

Yeah.

Yeah.

-Can I have a big hug?

-Of course. Please.

-Yeah, there we go.

Oh, that's nice.

Yeah. A lot of hugging.

Impressed no end by the cheerful and energetic humanity

of all concerned, there's nothing for it but to get stuck in.

I'm in charge of tray-wiping here.

In fact, this guy's already called me out.

My technique was somewhat ponderous, I think he was implying.

He's told me to speed it up a bit. Is that OK? Better? Good?

-Yeah.

-Perfect.

-Perfect.

'Now, this is what I'm talking about,

'good work done, however vaguely, in the service of God.

'It's thought more than two million Spaniards

'are relying on food banks and soup kitchens

'like this one every day, just to get by.'

-There you go.

-There you are.

-You see how clean my trays are?

-Yes.

You don't need a plate. You could eat it off that. Easy.

I wondered when I was in there,

is this anything to do with the church other than the funding? But...

..I can't help feeling it gives it just a bit of extra oomph.

It's not like everyone in there does it cos they think they're going to go to heaven.

They just want to do a bit of good.

They're thinking, "But for the grace of God, go I."

It was very tangible in there,

you could almost have tasted the compassion in the air.

And so to journey's end in the mountains near Barcelona

and the sanctuary of our Lady of Montserrat.

This shrine to Mary

has been an important site for Spanish Catholics

since the ninth century.

Back then, according to legend,

a small statue of the Black Madonna, purportedly carved by St Luke,

was discovered in a cave,

having been hidden there 800 or so years earlier.

The choir is just about the cutest thing you ever did see.

And their singing is just as sweet.

There's been a Benedictine monastery on this site

for nearly 1,000 years.

I find the sheer weight of that millennium of faith impressive,

but also oppressive,

'because I don't think I'll ever feel worthy of taking part.

I'll never feel as sure about it all

as everyone else seems to have done for time immemorial.

It's my last chance on this quest to collar a cleric,

so I grabbed a monk, so to speak,

Father Mannell, to ask him if it is OK

for this, in some ways committed Christian, to have his doubts.

So, do you have absolute certainty in your mind

about the reality of God and Jesus

-and certain that Jesus is the Saviour?

-No.

-No, of course not.

-Oh, God, I'm so glad you said that.

I doubt people who are certain.

That must not be faith, that must be vision.

That's for eternity, that's for heaven.

That's not for the life.

There's a difference between faith and vision.

Faith, of course, faith is allowed to have some,

some doubts. I think that's quite normal.

We can say...

..in a normal way, of course,

because without any doubt, without this absolute certainty,

we will probably be, be in heaven,

and then sharing the vision of God and not being on earth.

'Well, that's a relief, to say the least.'

I'm so glad I came all this way. It's been well worth it.

'Many great people, several glorious old buildings, six countries,

'three religions and one bewildered believer, edging just slightly closer

'to understanding exactly what it is he does

'and doesn't believe in.'

'Way back when I was in Croatia, which feels like a lifetime ago now,

'I set out to find

'if Jews, Christians and Muslims are all the same.

'I sort of asked, could I be a Jew, could I be a Muslim?'

Actually, a daft question, and completely impossible to answer.

What kind of Jew? What kind of Muslim?

I'm quite sure

that I have more in common with a liberal practising Jew

or a liberal practising Muslim

than I do with even a fairly conservative Roman Catholic.

And for me, it's not about which religion,

it's just how rigorously, how feverishly that religion is applied.

If you think your way is the only way,

your truth is the only absolute truth,

then...I'm sorry, it's not for me.

I'm not on your team, whichever team you happen to be on.

All of this may merely indicate I lack the necessary conviction.

But the truth is, I don't know.

I can hope, I can believe - some days I believe more than others -

but I don't see how I or anyone can ever know for sure.

Not long ago, there was an atheist poster campaign advising us

that there is probably no God, now stop worrying and enjoy your life.

To which I dare to say I think there probably is a God,

now stop worrying and enjoy your life.