The Doyle Engaging Difference Program - Georgetown University

In the United States, a common narrative I’ve heard is the “decline” of religion in the country; if current trends continue, it is projected that a majority of American adults will be religiously unaffiliated by 2070. I had associated this decline in religion with the modern, cosmopolitan nature unique to the United States. By contrast, having learned about the history of Christianity in Europe, I expected to find grand displays of religion while studying abroad. I envisioned myself seeing the pope addressing a crowd in front of a lavish cathedral and walking through entire museums dedicated to historical religious paintings.

My expectations were met in some respects. After visiting Florence, Milan, and Italy, I’d climbed enough Duomos (Italian cathedrals) and seen plenty of paintings of the Virgin Mary in her blue cloak and red dress. However, it was only by going to Italy and seeing the explicit and ubiquitous nature of religion that I could properly gauge my encounters with religion when I went back to the United Kingdom. Noticing how religion was not as extravagant in the United Kingdom, I hypothesized that the country was facing a similar decline in religion as the United States. After all, London is an incredibly international city, far more than any American city I’ve been to, and international students make up 70% of my host school’s campus.

However, as I began my reflections for the Doyle Global Dialogue program, my eyes began to catch the subtle ways that religion manifests in London. For instance, my friend took me to a Christmas carols event hosted by the London branch of her church from back home. The carols event was open to the public, welcoming thousands of people—both locals and tourists—throughout December. It was a musical where professional dancers and singers performed Christmas songs with elaborate costumes and routines, bright lights, and loud music. A humorous skit incorporating contemporary jokes retold the tale of Jesus’ birth in a way that was accessible to everyone.

I soon noticed that commitment to accessibility and openness were common values among many of London’s religious communities. While walking in the financial district, I stopped by a Black church that had open doors to listen to passionate, communal singing. Likewise, the Chinese church on my block offered both English and Mandarin services, serving as a safe space for many British Chinese immigrants. These communities at the intersection of religion and ethnicity demonstrate how distance from one’s hometown can actually cause immigrants or minorities to grow closer to their faith in the effort to search for connection.

Religious organizations also create community through their public services. Many churches in London offer meals to the needy on the weekend, distributed by volunteers. One of the gems of my school is a man who goes by “Hare Krishna,” in reference to the religious sect whose devotees chant mantras based on the name of the Hindu god Krishna. He serves free vegetarian lunches to students. Not only is it delicious and financially friendly, but it also gives students an opportunity to connect and rest away from our rigorous classes. Hare Krishna is a part of a broader Food for Life program in London, an initiative from the Radha-Krishna temple: “With roots in the Vaishnava culture of charity and the distribution of pure food to all, the project is a modern-day revival of the ancient culture of hospitality and a belief in the equality of all beings.”

Religion has not disappeared but adapted and modernized to the cosmopolitan, more liberal-minded London of today. The community function of religion is reflected in the United Kingdom’s official definition of religion as how people “connect or identify with a religion, irrespective of whether they actively practice it.” This diverges from what I had learned about the animosity between the Church of England and Catholicism, which had given me the false assumption of religious rigidity and conservatism in the United Kingdom.

With this awareness, I’m now more observant of how religion has adapted and presents itself in the modern world. In the Prague National Museum’s Czech Press Photo exhibit, there is a photograph of a nun participating in church services in the St. Vitus Cathedral, showing how religious art has adapted to new artistic technologies. Due to social media and globalization, I can find new ways to engage in religion that don’t necessarily involve sitting in a worship service. I currently follow the Instagram account @blackliturgies, which posts eloquent prayers and quotes on the themes of “dignity, lament, rage, justice, and rest.” I also approach others with less preconceived assumptions about their religious affiliations, more curious about their perspectives on religion more broadly, whether they identify as religious or not. For instance, when asking my Japanese friend about his experience with religion, I found out that his grandfather owned a Shinto shrine. Additionally, when noticing that my residence hall had put out a platter of Medjool dates, I looked into fasting traditions during Ramadan and learned that this tradition originates from Prophet Mohammed’s own practices.

I’d like to take this philosophy with me back to Georgetown by learning about religion through art, culture, and food. I cannot wait to participate in religious celebrations hosted by on-campus groups, understand the origins and implications of halal food, and discuss with other study abroad students how their perspectives on religion have developed.