The BBC governors' backing for the Springer musical is right. After 2,000 years, Christianity can survive a barrage of swear words

So, having given due weight to the 63,000 complaints they received about Jerry Springer - The Opera, the BBC governors have vindicated the programme makers. It is an important decision because in the febrile religious atmosphere after 9/11, the issue of blasphemy has become much more politically fraught, especially since the religious right has been flexing its muscles to good effect.

The governors' programme complaints committee was concerned to decide whether the decision to broadcast the opera was in breach of the relevant editorial standards, codes and guidelines. But the theological arguments are equally important.

Logically, only religious believers can blaspheme. If you think God doesn't exist, then it is no more blasphemous to insult him than to mock Father Christmas. You may cause offence, but that isn't blasphemy.

This is why the judgment of Mark Thompson, the BBC director general, on the opera was decisive. Speaking both as editor-in-chief of the BBC and as a practising Christian, he said he found nothing blasphemous about the show. In the language of more evangelical protesters, if he was in any doubt, why would he put his immortal soul in jeopardy in order to show that he is an artistic free-swinger?

There are always two different Jesuses involved in such controversies. There is Jesus of Nazareth whom artists treat like any other historical figure such as Churchill or Napoleon. He is fair game for artistic interpretations, however bizarre. Some Christians may be offended, but they can't have it both ways by claiming that Jesus was a real man, while also expecting society to treat him with kid gloves as though he were a resplendent figure in a stained-glass window.

There is also another Jesus. As Antony Pitts, the Radio 3 producer who resigned in protest, put it: "Jesus is my friend." One understands his distress. He made his stand, paid the price for it, and all honour to him. But for the BBC to apply his valuation of Jesus to its output would turn it into a confessional Christian station - which John Reith refused to countenance long before Britain became a multi-religious society.

Springer is a vicious satire on the American way of life, and it would make no sense to leave religion out. Some of the protesters got so hung up on the strong language and shocking imagery that they ignored the important theological issues raised. For example, when God sings "It's hard being Me!" this parodies with deadly accuracy the theological liberal's deity who appears to look on in anguished impotence when tsunamis strike, children die of disease and prayers go unanswered. And Satan's protest that he is entitled to an apology from God ties in with a biblical tradition that the devil was an angel who did what God told him to do, for example, tormenting Job, and then got the blame when everything went wrong.

The scene when Springer, as a TV presenter, reads off cue cards supplied to him by the devil could have come from CS Lewis's Screwtape Letters. I suspect the authors know more theology than some of those protesting about it. Other than their horror at the bad language and vulgar imagery, the protesters made two points. One was that it is insulting to God, which is like suggesting you can damage Mount Everest by spitting at it. The other is that it might undermine the faith of Christians.

In all my time in the BBC, during which a number of Springer-like issues came up, I never met one Christian whose own faith had been damaged by a programme, though concern was expressed that someone else's faith could be upset. On the other hand, I do know of Christians who found the censoriousness and lack of charity of some protesters at odds with a faith that is meant to be joyous and liberating.

It would be curious if Christianity, having survived 2,000 years of martyrdom and mass persecution, were under threat from a barrage of swear words.

Critics claimed that the BBC dare not put on a programme that dealt with Islam as Springer treated Christianity. But Britain has 1,500 years of Christian history behind it, and religious satire has been part of that tradition. From medieval times, there have been morality plays and celebrations such as the Feast of Fools. And the Jews, too, have a venerable tradition of religious wit. There is a rich vein of humour in the Hassidic Tales, where rabbis feel confident enough in their faith to make fun of God.

As far as I am aware, Islam has no tradition of religious satire in Britain, though some Muslim comedians are testing the boundaries. For religious satire to work, the audience must know enough about the original faith to recognise what is being made fun of. The average British viewer these days barely knows enough about Christianity, let alone any other faith, to get the point. The key editorial questions about Springer were not only to do with taste and standards but also with intelligibility: would general viewers "get" the religious references? Would they know what they were in for?

No matter how carefully guidelines are drawn up, the boundary between what is acceptable and what isn't will be imprecise, like a frontier you only realise you've crossed when someone starts shooting at you. No system of human devising, whether run by Ofcom, BBC governors or channel controllers could monitor the thousands of hours of programmes the BBC produces. It's a vast pyramid on a point; almost everything depends on the sensitivity and conscience of programme producers. The row over Springer is a reminder of how often they walk the tightrope sure-footedly. I'm glad the governors have found in their favour.

· The Rev Dr Colin Morris was head of religious broadcasting and BBC controller in Northern Ireland

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