Religious people might think that a church could never be atheistic; atheists might think that they would never need a church. But this weekend, the ‘Sunday Assembly’ held their first service in Oxford. Founded earlier this year in London, they call themselves an ‘atheist church’ – and there are now over forty of them around the world.

The structure of the Assembly’s service was modeled closely on a church service, though much more upbeat than what that brings to mind for most of us. In place of hymns, it began with bellowing sing-alongs (Queen, Disney, and others). In place of readings there were poems by Cavafy and W H Davies. In place of a sermon there was a speaker, this time Mark Leonard about mindfulness. And in place of a preacher, it was led by comedian and founder of the Sunday Assembly, Sanderson Jones. The theme of the first meeting was, more or less, loving life. As Jones put it, you can forget about this ‘when your to-do list is not getting to-done’, and it is good to have a space in which to remember how wonderful life is.

There are many atheists who would reject the idea of an atheist church fiercely. They want to distance themselves from anything religious. Religion is irrational or immoral, they say. The best thing is to get rid of all traces of religion, or at least, to realize there are no traces worth keeping. Moreover, they might simply not feel the need for the sorts of community that traditional religions offer. Yet there are three reasons why atheists should welcome the Sunday Assembly, and other initiatives like it.

Firstly, it will make atheism a more attractive possibility to many people. ‘New Atheism’ has tried – and often succeeded – to turn people away from religion through arguments. But this won’t change everyone’s mind. It is clear from the recent resurgence of religion, and other forms of spirituality, all over the world, that many people do search for things that religion can offer: community, a place in which to reflect, a sense of purpose, and so on. But, if it is true that there is no reason that it should only be religion that offers this, then atheists must work hard to show this.

More than that, it is a big statement for many people to call themselves an atheist. It seems like a purely negative statement: how can I be completely sure? And if I don’t believe in god, what do I believe in? But imagine if atheists stopped talk about their lack of belief in god, and defined themselves positively as a community that offered those things that religion provides, though without dogmas or liturgy. This would change the connotation of ‘atheism’, and make it much easier for many people to choose to be a part of.

Secondly, it will help bring a greater quality of life to those people who already consider themselves atheist. At the moment, being an atheist is a major identity statement for a person, but on the whole does not contribute much to them. Someone searching for meaning in their life would have to be an atheist and something else (like an artist, or a meditator) in order to find it. But why can’t atheists try come together as atheists, and make communities where people, just by being part of the community, find meaning?

Thirdly, if atheists define themselves only negatively, they will dwell on their differences from other people, delineating themselves sharply and aggressively. This will lead increasingly to tensions between religious people and atheists. But if they focus on community building, they will focus less on their differences from others, but on how to make themselves the strongest communities possible, and perhaps find positive ways of relating communally to other groups.

All this suggests that atheists should welcome and pursue the idea of community building. That being said, it is probably best to lose the term ‘atheist church’ – that’s just for publicity. Though there is some sense to the term, it will just multiply confusion and controversy. Atheists communities would of course not be obligatory for atheists; for those people happy living without it, fine. Nor would there be any one way of running it. But until atheists show that they can build communities and provide meaning for a wide variety of people, their influence on contemporary society will be weaker than it could be both in terms of breadth and depth.

I tend to react to social media sites in the same, middle-aged way: I moan about them, watch my friends jump on board, then make a silent U-turn.

Last week I caved and got Twitter.

I was governed by a need to curb my illegitimate Facebook hashtagging and a misguided notion that Twitter is “like Facebook, but with more intelligent people”. Warning: careful cultivation of an employer-friendly, ‘I’m so cultured’, pristine profile is easily dashed by one swift, reckless follow. This was literally the case for me when I followed ‘FeministTaylorSwift’ (I regret nothing).

I was left infuriated at Step One on the road to this shiny, new form of procrastination, however, when my name was already taken. No big deal you may say. It happens. Tweeter @JohnLewis has been cordially responding to complaining customers of @JohnLewisRetail for months, bless him.

But this minor username setback was the culmination of constant online frustration, the lengthening of a cyber-shadow hanging over me, the latest threat to my internet identity.

For the past two years, I have been receiving the emails of another Rebecca Fairbank. Doesn’t sound too traumatic, does it? After all, people get junk mail all the time. Oxford accounts have previously been bombarded by dodgy-looking companies offering to do essays for us. It’s blatant and it’s shocking. An article on the perils of commercial cheating would probably have been a more intelligent contribution, but the Exam Regulations doorstop has got that covered. These spamming companies may be morally questionable, but at least they reached their target (stressed fresher) market. Top marks for trying.

I’m not concerned here with mass marketing emails, but with masses of emails sent to me. Over the years I’ve inadvertently received an eclectic, comical range of offerings meant for my Email Doppelgänger. Highlights include:

1. Four security passes from the German Federal Ministry of the Interior, granting access to a meeting at the Bundestag. The email itself was encoded in the name of ‘heightened security arrangements’, so my response telling them that they had breached their own security bounced. Oh the irony.
2. An award from the History of Art department of an American University. This was the most disappointing of all the misdirected emails. I was waiting to receive an art history essay back from a tutor at the time, and so wildly overestimated my own abilities on first glance.
3. Constant messages from a woman called Faith, the Young Woman’s leader of a Rhode Island church. She’s pretty peeved that Rebecca didn’t help out at church camp, despite her e-card pleas.
4. Weekly parenting emails. Did you know that babies start rolling over when they’re 3 months old?

This last example landed in my inbox relatively early on in the saga. At first I thought my friends’ had set me up based on the fact that I am the least broody person ever to be graced with ovaries. Their denials led to some thorough Facebook stalking. The mystery was solved: I found an American, pregnant, graduate, Christian, Rebecca Fairbank (who lived in Berlin for a year, fyi).

This should be the end of the story. I attempted to contact her, I disowned her Dad, I restored Faith’s faith (sorry) in her online organisational skills. But after a brief respite, the emails kept coming. Maybe it’s a technical glitch, or she gives out the wrong address on purpose, or her contacts have old mailing lists. In the case of her Dad, Bob – well he’s just forgetful, look how long it took him to forward that email from Aunt Jeanne (she sends her love to baby Rachel by the way).

It’s clear that I know way too much about this woman’s life. I know her parent’s names, her town, her former university. It’s a fraudster’s dream; it’s a nuisance. I spend a fair amount of time replying to random people, “From Another Rebecca Fairbank”. But despite this, I can’t help but feeling a strange sort of affinity with my online double. After five months of receiving maternity hospital newsletters, I was genuinely excited to hear the news of the birth of baby Rachel. I’d been privy to baby shower proposals, Bob was sending me baby gear ideas – basically, my inbox was as pregnant with plans as the parents-to-be.

I’ve also gained an insight into a life lived to the full. Here was someone putting my name to better use than me. The fact that I initially thought the emails were intended for several different people – the diplomat, the volunteer, the expectant mother – stands testament to a person successfully juggling the demands of modern life, in a way that seems implausible on paper. And that’s inspiring. Friends have advised me to change my email address. But if the postman kept delivering someone else’s letters to your house, would you move?

So, without starting a Sinead-Miley style spat: let this be an open letter to you, American Rebecca Fairbank. It’s been quite a journey. But please stop giving out my email address. And give my love to Aunt Jeanne.

The English language is threatening Europe’s different cultures. Nobody can really stop it, it is happening every day at an intimidating pace. Two countries particularly affected are France and Germany, both of which possess very old and meaningful languages, which are in danger of eventually dying out as more and more English enters their vocabulary. Action needs to be taken immediately, otherwise languages and thereby cultures will soon be lost. People will lose their identification, which lies in both culture and language. 

Or is this really true?

As a German, I am perfectly aware of all the discussion relating to this, which has been going on for years. It is true, indeed, that the vocabulary of French as well as German does contain an increasing amount of English words. However, these include terms which usually find their origin in the digital arena. The internet was invented, so were computers and laptops, MP3 Players and so on. Very often technical devises, invented in the English speaking world, which have not been given a translated name in German or French. This is especially the case in France, where every single English word entering the language is given an equivalent in French as to protect the language. However, the English terms tend to spread before the new terms are even invented, and very often it becomes impossible to replace it by the new one after this fact. But if these terms describe things originating from the English or American culture, do we really need to make up new terms for them?

Another very important thing to consider is the effect the infiltration of the English language has on culture. Any given language does contain some cultural value, as culture has always influenced language and vice versa. So the possibility of losing some of our cultural identity by losing some of our language must not be ignored. 

One of the brothers Grimm was particularly engaged in linguistics. If you change a few words of his writings, you could simply reprint it onto the German language today and no one would notice that it is not current. He criticized exactly the same issue of language encroachment which is criticised today, only that the role now given to English was back then attributed to French and Latin. Grimm was furious that many words of French and Latin were becoming part of the German vocabulary, while there were perfect German options available, yet these words are now considered totally German. We may indeed have adapted the spelling and the pronunciation, but that does not make the words any more “originally German”. 

It is true that some of our cultural value gets lost, or “replaced”, as some new word enters our language instead. However, in the past, it was not just about using French words; we copied their style of planning streets and partly adapted to their style of living. So by including French terms, we could also say, we enriched our language alongside our culture. This may actually give a truer idea of what really happened. Today, we include English terms in our language, and our cultural identity is surely modified by that, but is it actually oppressed? We have adopted the Bachelor-Master system for University, we have a strong economical connection to the US and to England, we promote exchanges – and still expect all this to have no influence at all? It is a shame that we do not see how much we gain by including elements of another culture in our own. 

What really struck me at the beginning of my time at Oxford, were the many German terms I came across in English Textbooks. The English did not seem to bother changing particular expressions from German, “Gestalt-Psychology”, “doppelganger” or “angst” were just a few of them. The English, it seems, do just the same as we do. And this is only for German, not including all the French or Latin expressions in English.

All the languages mentioned here have their origins in the Proto-Indo-European Language. And over time all the different languages have split from it, evolved, and finally become their own. They have influenced one another ever since and developed further. Why can we not focus on the obvious enrichment this gives to our culture instead?