The Doyle Engaging Difference Program - Georgetown University

During my family’s previous Christmas get-together, my go-to piece of small talk was my upcoming semester abroad in Brighton, England. Among the plethora of premium advice I received, with such first-rate examples as “don’t get a tattoo,” the best chunk of input I got would have to be what my Grand-pop mumbled to me in that space between a first and second serving of roast ham: “Bring an umbrella.”

I don’t know if you’ve heard this before, but it tends to rain a bit in England, and while I was wise enough to heed my grandfather’s advice and pack an umbrella, I wasn’t always wise enough to remember to bring that umbrella around with me. Or a raincoat. It was one such unfortunate occasion where I ended up meeting a classmate who would become a good friend, Nico. Despite not living on campus, Nico offered to walk me back to the dorm where I was staying, through the rain, sharing his umbrella to keep dry.

There’s a lot to love about Brighton. Its historic architecture, quirky creative scene, and bustling beachfront and pier are just a few attributes adding to the city’s lovable character. But, reflecting back on my time abroad, it’s the people I met like Nico, who were willing to talk and be friendly with me, who showed me a side to my host country that I wouldn’t have gotten from a removed, tourist perspective. Having chosen a country that speaks my native language, I was lucky enough to be able to fully immerse myself in the community around me, and despite the cold, damp weather around me, I found that community to be warm and welcoming.

This welcoming experience continued as I began to pay more attention to religious life in Brighton as part of the Doyle Global Dialogue program. At first I was intimidated by this task, as Brighton is a notably secular city in what many would already regard as a secular society. In fact, over half of Brighton’s population identifies with no religion. Though as I spent more time in Brighton, and spoke to more people, I quickly learned that despite the city’s relative lack of religion, or perhaps because of it, the religious groups in Brighton were deeply engaged with the surrounding community. At my host university’s biweekly event “Woof Wednesdays,” where dogs are brought in to play with while students can socialize with staff and each other, I spoke with a fellow student about her involvement in her local church’s "practical ministry." This is a branch of her church that focuses on people’s practical needs, seeing them as directly connected to spiritual needs. In between rounds of tug-of-war and fetch, I heard about how they offered food, career, and financial assistance to churchgoers and the Brighton community at large. She mentioned how they embody this ministry internally too, giving her rides right to the church to accommodate the limited wheelchair access it has.

As my semester progressed, I only noticed more of Brighton's highly engaged and rich community. One of the largest religious communities in Brighton, the Anglican St. Peter’s Church, saw the front lawn of their larger gothic chapel transform into the grounds for England’s largest annual arts festival, Brighton Fringe. What struck me most about the month-long fair was how it was completely open-access. Brighton Fringe doesn’t book any events themselves; rather, they are approached by performers who want to put on a show. So, despite its main stage being on church property, the massive event boasts a tremendous amount of religious diversity in its programming. This appropriately reflects the religious diversity of Brighton itself, a city whose historic churches sit alongside synagogues, mosques, and meeting houses.

One time, while eating with some friends in a nearby pizzeria, an older gentleman struck up a conversation with us that landed on the festival. He mentioned repeatedly how consistently impressed he was by the variety of performers, and just how much the festival had grown over the last decade. It showed me that this festival, and the scale and diversity it contains, was a real point of pride for some local residents, so much so that one was excited to share it with relative outsiders.

In Jane Austen’s famous novel Pride and Prejudice, the character of Lydia Bennet is entirely obsessed with going to Brighton; “In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness,” Austen writes. While my time in Brighton shares many of the joys Lydia associates with it, I think what makes Brighton so special isn’t captured by Lydia’s narrow view of the city as little more than a beachfront getaway. Rather, the Brighton I experienced was one defined by its welcoming community, kind people, and a bit of rain.