All this talk about sharing churches makes me remember today about how it was to be brought up as a Catholic in the Britain of the 1950's
When I was about 8 years old, we were having an end-of-term talk by a visiting Friar, as we were just about to go off for the long summer hols.
I distinctly remember him telling us, very sternly, that we should remember that even when we were on holiday, it was our solemn duty to go to Mass every Sunday, without fail. He also told us that if we couldn't find a Catholic church in the place where we were staying, that we could attend, at a pinch, go to a Greek or Russian Orthodox church instead.
But under no circumstances should we set foot in a Protestant church !
My family used to stay on a farm on Dartmoor every summer, so quite where we were supposed to find a bloody Orthodox church in the middle of nowhere was a mystery to me, and also to my Dad when I told him.
As a good Catholic boy, we were taught that life was really simple. There were Catholics, like us and we were, of course, the Good Guys.
Then there were the Jews, who weren't so nice as they murdered Jesus.
And then there were Black People, who we prayed for every Sunday, who believed in all sorts of things, most of them unsavoury. We also took a penny to school on Monday and got a sticker of a black child for our savings card.
Anybody who believed in Jesus but wasn't a Catholic was therefore a Protestant ! I was in my mid-teens before I found out about Baptists, Methodists, etc, etc. I can never recall being told about Jehovah, Mormons, and the other loony tunes.
No wonder life seemed so simple !