HARDLY a day passes without some report on the BBC news of bloody violence and conflict somewhere in the world.

Such hostilities contrast with the idealist motto of the BBC itself: “Nation shall speak peace unto nation.” This is not a prophecy gleaned from some sacred religious scripture, but was written in 1927 by one of the first BBC governors as though he had foreseen the world trials of the 21st century.

When the 60th anniversary of the BBC was celebrated in London at St Paul’s Cathedral in 1982, care was taken to invite distinguished religious leaders, Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, Muslim, Jewish and Christian, to pray for “the peace of the faiths”. The Imam G. M. A. Sulaiman prayed: “O Allah, thou art peace and from Thee comes peace, Bless us with peace and admit us into the abode of peace.”

Artists sometimes speak peace more compellingly than others with a public voice. Antony Gormley’s Angel of the North, the largest statue of our days — it is 65ft (20m) tall, nearly (197ft) 60m wide and weighs 208 tonnes — is not beautiful, its wings are weathered, brown and rusty, but it can resist howling gales and it stands on deep foundations in rock above a 200-year-old coal mine. It bears comparison with those other northern masterpieces of communication, the Tyne Bridge and Durham Cathedral.

When first unveiled, the Angel was subject to vitriolic criticism (“brash”, “wicked”, “banal”) from those who believed that only housing and industry deserved to be built. In contrast a young Gateshead girl sang its praises and confessed how proud it made her to live in the North, opening its arms in welcome. As travellers rush past it, northwards and southwards along the A1, it reminds many of them of hope and the spirit.

The Angel has many different interpretations. To some it is an enlightened Icarus; to some simply a landmark for rail and road travellers, and to some Christians it is a reminder of Christ opening wide his arms, a symbol of hope and resurrection. As an angel it can speak to many spiritualities — Christian, Jewish, Muslim, eastern and humanist. To all it suggests something beyond.

One organiser of the deadly July bombings in London lived in Leeds and was a British Muslim. It is appropriate that a Yorkshire and Humber Faiths Forum has been created (New York, which suffered its own attacks, has one of the oldest interfaith centres). The forum discusses complex questions that matter hugely. Muslims, Jews and Christians alike care about Iraq, about Israel and Palestine, about the economies of developing countries. People who care about faith need to be able to speak to each other and listen to each other. The religious and cultural dimensions of British culture today require us to change.

I read theology at Oxford but I never read the Koran, nor did I ever imagine that the Yorkshire church where I first celebrated Holy Communion would one day belong to a non-Christian group. Now we all need a wider horizon.

The phrase “British Muslim” was coined by the late Sir Zaki Badawi, knighted in 2004 for his irenic work. He was consulted by the Archbishop of Canterbury before the foundation of the Christian-Muslim Forum, launched at Lambeth Palace in January this year. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, said: “This is not about elites. This is about ordinary people working together on the needs and challenges that face us all. Faith is a perfectly normal activity for human beings.”

The Prime Minister said at the Lambeth launch: “The need has never been greater . . . The greater the knowledge the greater the understanding, the greater the understanding the greater the respect.”

Since humanity must learn to listen and think, as well as speak, such meeting places are crucial. These small ventures in Leeds and London may begin to enable the religious to hear each other and so to speak peace.

The Very Rev Alan Webster is Dean Emeritus of St Paul’s