By Sandra Hogan .
Part One
In the Martin Scorsese documentary about the Rolling Stones, Shine a Light, there is a piece of archival footage taken soon after Mick Jagger’s conviction for possession of drugs in 1967. A group of bishops, theologians and serious social commentators had gathered to discuss The Drug Situation, the Generation Gap and so on. Perhaps they hoped to convince young viewers that these surly, unkempt rock stars were bound for perdition.
For some reason the encounter was filmed in an English field on a summer’s day. Dressed entirely in black, some sporting dog collars, the worthies sat in a dignified circle on folding chairs waiting to give their learned views. They fidgeted a little and looked around uncomfortably as they waited for Mick Jagger to arrive to face their theological probing.
Finally Jagger arrived, at the opposite end of the field, in a helicopter. He stepped out of his flying machine, like a mischievous angel with long, shiny hair, cushiony lips, and a gorgeous pink and green kaftan-type creation. He floated serenely across the field towards the bishops and joined their circle.
Scorsese left us to imagine all the delicious possibilities for how the conversation would proceed. There was no need for any words because the point was already made visually. The bishops and worthy folk were people from the past. Sheer quantity of stern men in black robes could not overcome the fact that they were at a loss. Jagger represented the present—rebellion, rock’n’roll, sex and joy—and young people were flocking to his concerts and not to churches. He had usurped their power; religion was a thing of the past.
The Scorsese documentary was released in 2008, the same year that Pope Benedict XVI visited Australia to celebrate World Youth Day. In its four-page souvenir wraparound, The Australian’s headline was Pope’s age of renewal.1 A ‘sea of 400,000 pilgrims’ joined the Pope in praying for an end to ‘the spiritual desert of the modern world and the beginning of a new religious age of faith and redemption’.
During his time in Australia, the Pope apologised to the victims of clerical sexual abuse; promised us Australia would have a saint soon, very soon, it’s just a small matter of a miracle; cuddled koalas, kissed babies and travelled for miles in his Popemobile so as many people as possible could see him. The mass was beamed to a million people around the world. To the many faithful who camped in cold, rainy conditions overnight at Randwick racecourse, he sent a daily ‘inspirational’ text message: ‘The Spirit impels us 4wards 2wards others; the fire of his love makes us missionaries of God’s charity. CU tomorrow night – BXVI’. Perhaps during his time as a member of Hitler Youth (albeit an unwilling one, according to a 2005 article in the New York Times)2 the Pope learned how to work a crowd.
According to The Australian:
Many felt the pontiff’s message of spiritual renewal addressed a long-felt need.
“That’s what the youth of today need,” said 27-year-old Brazilian-Australian Mauricio Boaretto, who had listened to the Pope’s homily with rapt attention. “Many people need God in their hearts, which are full of bad things like drugs.”3
The Rolling Stones can still pull a crowd but it’s no longer enough for these young people. In Richard Dawkins’ atheist manifesto The God Delusion, he writes that, ‘In any society there exists a somewhat mysterious consensus which changes over the decades, and for which it is not pretentious to use the German loan-word Zeitgeist (spirit of the times).’4
It seems the Zeitgeist has moved on.
But has it?
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