At first glance, one cannot miss the religious edifices that mark the streets in London. The unmistakable St. Paul’s Cathedral, the once-prominent St. Martin-in-the-fields on Trafalgar Square (now perhaps more visible with the scaffolding and colorful signs displaying the ecclesiastical version of "we are renovating to serve you better"), and the smaller steeples that are scattered all across central London. Yet, on a Sunday, one can hardly avoid evidence of declining devotion in the dwindling numbers filling the pews.
Perhaps that is trying to paint the picture with far too broad a brush. On the one hand, pews are emptying and the noonday chimes from church bells appear to be quarreling with the incessant (and far more unpleasant) ringing of my residence hall's scheduled fire alarm tests. On the other hand, devout Muslims are gathering in response to the prayer call in the mosques of East London, immigrants from Eastern Europe congregate for prayer and worship in Orthodox churches, and certain independent and Anglican city churches fill numerous services with worshippers both local and international, and maybe even have overflow buildings to accommodate the crowds.
It is against this backdrop of secularization in mainstream culture and development of niches of people whose faith means something more than the infrequent visit to a place of worship to mark a religious occasion that Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams made a speech that incited a storm of indignation, shock, anger, bemusement, and lots of commentary. His remarks on February 7, 2008 were summarized (rather unfairly and sensationally) in the headlines as a call for the Islamic law, the sharia, to be implemented as a parallel legal system in Britain. A reading of his speech will quell fears that the archbishop endorsed such extreme forms of punishment or radical Islamism, or even suggest that Britain should adopt the sharia as a parallel system, but does not reduce the controversy surrounding his remarks, which, had the media not catch-phrased his entire speech, should have brought into the spotlight another issue: what happens when loyalty to the state comes in conflict with loyalty to one's religion or culture? This issue is significant for a country that struggles to deal with the integration of ethnic and religious minorities into the broader national society to avoid feelings of alienation and discontentment. This was made painfully important in the wake of home-grown terrorism evinced in the London bombings on July 7, 2005.
Religion is divisive in the sense that it is distinctive and often exclusivist, and there is a visible dichotomy in London where pockets of devotion are contrasted with buildings whose glory days of passion and preaching are past and exist more as tourist attractions than places of worship. This division is made even starker when one considers the ethnic and national differences that often characterize these two groups of people, and the problem of integration has never been starker. British Prime Minister Gordon Brown recently called for Britons to recognize a common, national identity, much to the bemusement, and perhaps chagrin, of a people whose sense of patriotism appears to be understated at best and undeveloped at worst—except in football tournaments. Are feelings of alienation being fed by a sense of betraying one's culture and religious beliefs by conforming to a secular law? Or is the equal standing under British law a unifying factor that gives each inhabitant of England a sense of belonging and accountability?
It is against this backdrop of secularization in mainstream culture and development of niches of people whose faith means something more than the infrequent visit to a place of worship to mark a religious occasion that Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams made a speech that incited a storm of indignation, shock, anger, bemusement, and lots of commentary. His remarks on February 7, 2008 were summarized (rather unfairly and sensationally) in the headlines as a call for the Islamic law, the sharia, to be implemented as a parallel legal system in Britain. A reading of his speech will quell fears that the archbishop endorsed such extreme forms of punishment or radical Islamism, or even suggest that Britain should adopt the sharia as a parallel system, but does not reduce the controversy surrounding his remarks, which, had the media not catch-phrased his entire speech, should have brought into the spotlight another issue: what happens when loyalty to the state comes in conflict with loyalty to one's religion or culture? This issue is significant for a country that struggles to deal with the integration of ethnic and religious minorities into the broader national society to avoid feelings of alienation and discontentment. This was made painfully important in the wake of home-grown terrorism evinced in the London bombings on July 7, 2005.
Religion is divisive in the sense that it is distinctive and often exclusivist, and there is a visible dichotomy in London where pockets of devotion are contrasted with buildings whose glory days of passion and preaching are past and exist more as tourist attractions than places of worship. This division is made even starker when one considers the ethnic and national differences that often characterize these two groups of people, and the problem of integration has never been starker. British Prime Minister Gordon Brown recently called for Britons to recognize a common, national identity, much to the bemusement, and perhaps chagrin, of a people whose sense of patriotism appears to be understated at best and undeveloped at worst—except in football tournaments. Are feelings of alienation being fed by a sense of betraying one's culture and religious beliefs by conforming to a secular law? Or is the equal standing under British law a unifying factor that gives each inhabitant of England a sense of belonging and accountability?
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