Review
Belief
Culture
Music
5 min read

Mumford & Sons search for meaning

Wonder about which love they sing of - earthly or divine.

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

A band lounge around.
Pondering the reviews.
Mumford & Sons

My old RE teacher always liked to make the point that meaning can be found in anything, if you want to find it.  

“Do you find meaning in a sunset?” he’d ask. “Or only beauty?” 

From the outset of Mumford & Sons’ new record, ‘Rushmere’, the deeper things, as ever, are front and centre - at least for those of us who wish to find them. 

The folk band’s records have always been replete with religious undertones - lead man Marcus Mumford is the son of a preacher, don’t you know? - and they are apparent from the very start of the band’s fifth studio album and first since 2018. 

‘Rushmere’ kicks off with ‘Malibu’, which speaks of finding “peace beneath the shadow of your wings”, and an unnamed “you” being “all I want” and “all I need”. 

There’s even talk, right at the beginning of the song, of feeling “the spirit move in me again - the same spirit that moves in you”.  

Precisely which spirit is meant is never defined - these are song lyrics, after all, not a sermon - but for this listener at least, the reference to the third member of the Trinity appears clear. 

Not every song on the album hits such obvious religious notes, but the opening track is far from unique. Indeed, one needs only to flick through the names of the other songs to get a hint of the deeper meanings on offer, with titles such as ‘Truth’, ‘Anchor’ and ‘Surrender’. 

Meanwhile, in ‘Monochrome’, we’re told that even within a hyacinth can “life”, “restoration” - even “Christ” - be found.  

Could the “out of sight” monochrome “beyond reason” that we are called to contemplate represent the Christ - in theological terms, the “Word” of God - whose fingerprints can be seen across Creation? 

And what is meant when Mumford sings that “the kind of love that I’m always chasing is the kind of love that won’t be chased?”  

As with many of the band’s lyrics, there appears space for both a romantic and religious reading, though perhaps romance is harder to read into metaphors such as a “cup running dry”, as Mumford sings elsewhere in ‘Monochrome’.  

Is it only me for whom this evokes memories of the old Sunday school refrain: “Fill up my cup and let it overflow”? 

‘Truth’, meanwhile, begins with the fairly blunt statement: “I was born to believe the truth is all there is.”  

“Oh my love, hold me fast,” the song ends, and again we are left to wonder about which love he is singing - earthly or divine. 

It isn’t made clear whether such belief remains intact today, nor even which truth is meant, given that we now live in times where such things seem occasionally grey. But ‘Surrender’ appears more black and white, speaking of being brought to one’s knees, “broken” then “put back together”, and “held in the promise of forever”.   

“I surrender, I surrender now,” Mumford cries - words Christian congregations have sung for centuries. 

And as ever with a Mumford & Sons record, ‘Rushmere’ doesn’t hold back from the trickier theological issues, touching upon the concepts of both hell and original sin. 

“Let your anger go to hell,” ‘Where It Belongs,’ Mumford sings in the track of the same name, which is sung like a lament, while in the final track, ‘Carry On’, those of us who believe in original sin are encouraged to consider that “there’s no evil in a child’s eye”. 

“It was made, and it was good,” Mumford sings in a nod to the Creation story, when the world was blemish-free. 

Meanwhile, in ‘Anchor’, Mumford sings that he “can’t say he’s sorry if he’s always on the run from the Anchor”. Which for some of us, at least, will conjure recollection of part of the Bible’s Book of Hebrews that speaks of our “hope” - Jesus - being “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure”. 

“Oh my love, hold me fast,” the song ends, and again we are left to wonder about which love he is singing - earthly or divine. 

Fans of Mumford & Sons - and yes, you’ve guess it, I count myself among them - will recognise that particular phrase from a previous hit, ‘Hopeless Wanderer’, which again seemed to speak to a life of faith; of pilgrims “called by name” trying “so hard to live in the truth”, but being “prone to wander”, as it says in the hymn ‘Come Thou Fount’, which Mumford has also been known to perform. 

So this is not the first Mumford & Sons album to have contained such imagery. Far from it. For those of us who’ve followed the band since their debut album, ‘Sigh No More’, in 2009, there have always been calls to ‘Awake My Soul’ or to find comfort in a future day in which there will be “no more tears.”  

In the years since, we have been encouraged to be ‘Lover[s] of the Light’, or to find hope in a ‘Guiding Light’ who won’t ‘Slip Away’ in the night. 

Perhaps, then, there’s nothing very different about ‘Rushmere’ - it represents just another chapter on a journey of faith - but this particular fan continues to appreciate, deeply, the depth that Mumford and his bandmates continue to bring to our ears.  

And as for the music, well I suppose by now that most readers will probably be familiar with what one can expect from a Mumford & Sons album, and ‘Rushmere’ certainly doesn’t disappoint those of us who like that kind of thing. 

It’s notably shorter than the previous album - nearly half the length - but is probably no worse for it. It’s hard to think of a weak song on the album, while there is something for everyone: from the country feel of ‘Caroline’ (think Counting Crows/Ryan Adams) and rock and roll of ‘Truth’, to the gentle fingerpicking and harmonies of ‘Monochrome’. Heck, the banjos even make a comeback on the self-titled ‘Rushmere’, so truly something for everyone - or at least for all of us fans.   

By the way, my old RE teacher never told us what he believed, but I later found out that he’d once been ordained, so I suppose that he, like me, might still find meaning in a sunset or even, perhaps, a Mumford & Sons record.

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Article
Comment
Economics
Politics
Trust
5 min read

Tariffs destroy trust so where do we go next?

Blunt weapons cause a mess in markets and lives.

Paul Valler is an executive coach and mentor. He is a former chair of the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity.

A gold coin with the DOGE dog on it, lies over the face on a $50 bill.
So doge-y.
Kanchanara on Unsplash

‘When America sneezes the rest of the world catches a cold’ quipped economists almost a century ago after the Wall Street crash.  A comment that might equally apply to the more than 10 per cent drop in stock markets caused by President Trump’s sudden raised tariffs on imports to the USA.  The impact of the American economy on the world is inescapable.  It represents almost a quarter of global GDP and the dollar is the leading reserve currency, accounting for around 60 per cent of international foreign exchange reserves.  Size is what enables America to bully the rest of the world. 

For decades the American trade deficit has been an elephant in the room and Trump is to be applauded for recognising it and addressing the problem. Unfortunately, the way he has gone about it has caused another, bigger problem. Changing the direction of the global economy is like turning a tanker, it cannot be done easily or quickly, but Trump’s style is to attack, like hammering at a nail.  Every issue in geopolitics looks like another nail, waiting for him to hammer out a negotiated deal.  Full marks for courage, but not for wisdom. The blunt weapon of trade tariffs is designed to bring wealth and power back towards the USA, but blunt weapons often cause a mess, and sure enough a global mess is what we now have.  A US/China trade war with higher prices that could end up stoking inflation and a government own goal.   

Panic selling of government bonds signalling a loss of confidence following Trump’s dramatic tariff boost is reminiscent of the impact of Liz Truss’ sudden and radical UK tax cuts, which were also driven by an ideology, but ended up as a wrecking ball.  Even some of Trump’s backers have warned of an economic nuclear winter.  In the long run, Trump has done the world a favour by highlighting a structural issue that needed correction, but his economically violent methods of addressing it look increasingly unwise.  If a global depression does happen on the back of all this, then coupled with the rise of autocratic and belligerent leadership, we would face a worrying parallel to what happened in the 1930s when the world eventually slid into war.   

Tariffs are like walls, barriers to cooperation and the epitome of economic selfishness.  Make America Great Again is selfishness writ large - a society pursuing wealth and power without the cohesive framework of values that are so essential to cooperation and community wellbeing.  A psychology of self-centredness that damages relationships at the national level.  This is what I find most concerning about Trump’s approach; not just the economics but the long-term legacy of relational damage that could last well beyond his Presidential term. 

Our fears reveal just how much we trust in wealth above everything else, and how much the fear of scarcity affects our mental health.

Michael Schluter in his book The Relational Lens defines five principles, or measures, of relational health.  They are directness, parity, common purpose, continuity and breadth.  Applying those five measures helps us see why Trump’s tariffs are the polar opposite of relational.  He introduced these escalating penalties remotely and not in face-to-face negotiations.  Exploiting the power of America instead of showing respect for the status and needs of other nations.  Tariffs have no common purpose with other countries, only a selfish agenda.  There is no continuity with previous trading protocols.  And it is all purely financial, with no reference to the broader holistic impact.  All in all, a relational disaster.   

Despite living in the ‘first world’ we remain gripped with fear of loss.  Our fears reveal just how much we trust in wealth above everything else, and how much the fear of scarcity affects our mental health. Markets are not entirely rational; they are driven by algorithms that stem from this psychology of greed and fear.  Emotions and trading swing wildly with a herd instinct that often drives behaviour.  As Rabbi Jonathan Sachs said:  

‘Markets have no moral compass; we have outsourced morality to legislation by the State.’   

But the worry now is that the current US administration shows signs of ignoring morality and even riding roughshod over the courts.  No wonder people feel afraid. 

Where can we find hope in all this turmoil?  Is there a better response than gritted teeth and the mantra: ‘this too shall pass’?  I think so.  There is life beyond the market.  Jesus said: ‘life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.’  We can choose to step back and look at all this with the true perspective that money isn’t everything.  We can cultivate gratitude for what we do have.  We can learn contentment.  Yet I feel for those who have experienced financial loss, and don’t want to minimise the reality of hardship.  In fact, something important and practical all of us who are privileged can and should do is to be vigilant in watching out for those who are poor and disadvantaged.  To look after those with a real need for the basics of life and help them through this tough time when economic disruption could make life even harder.  For those with a faith this is part of working out how our faith makes a positive difference where we are. 

Perhaps the supreme irony of this crisis is President Trump’s insistence that Americans must trust him.  Ironic, because the one thing that his tariff actions seem to have undermined more than anything else is trust.  The trust that is essential to the functioning of both markets and civilisation as a whole.  Face to face discussions must be the way forward now, to rebuild trust and find more nuanced, mutual approaches to solving America’s trade deficit.   

There is one person we can always trust though, and his name is written clearly on the American One Dollar bill.  In God we trust.  Let’s pray that Trump and his America returns to that imperative and turns back to a more Christ centred philosophy of loving our neighbour as ourselves, reflected in more bilateral diplomacy and agreements. 

Celebrate our 2nd birthday!

Since March 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.
If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.
Graham Tomlin
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