Berkley Center

From my limited time living in the heart of London, I have encountered some interesting dichotomies in the way Londoners approach religion. I make no claim to fully, or even partially, understand the various complexities that run through a cultural melting pot with close to eight million humans in it. There are simply too many ethnicities, cultures, religions, and lifestyles on the streets of London to appreciate them all. Living in Covent Garden makes it difficult to distinguish between the residents and the itinerant tourists, all of whom contribute to the eclectic character of London.

Upon arrival in the city, one can’t help but be struck by the historical nature of the entire place. Most of the buildings and streets in the city center are described as either pre- or post-fire of 1666. The longevity of certain churches, buildings, and markets is absolutely astonishing to a California native, where an "old" building might be from the early twentieth century. When chatting with native Britons, the conversation turns without fail to history. The beautiful centuries-old Anglican churches, monuments, and royal lineages are the romantic notions to which modern Brits cling.

Based on unscientific observations, modern Britons appear much more involved in the past glories of Christianity than their contemporary church. Most still identify themselves with some type of faith, but very few actually attend or participate in their churches. The city of London is such a demanding whirlwind of activity and energy that many well-settled Brits seem to feel that there are simply not enough hours in the week to fit actively participatory religion into their routine. Yet the majority of Londoners choose to identify with a set of beliefs, seemingly because religion is a strong part of British tradition. The church has played such a crucial role in British history that it will always be a part of society, but it is no longer a daily feature.

All of the above pertains to the native Britons well-established in the London area. There is a radically different role for religion throughout the rest of the London population (those who have arrived relatively recently to the area). Minorities, immigrants, and fringe cultures within the city seem to embrace religion in a much more active way than those who have been here for generations. All of these “new” people have understandable reasons for actively involving themselves in their respective places of worship. Religious communities provide an immeasurable feeling of welcome and belonging to those unfamiliar with their new home.

One can’t help but notice the distinct feeling of innovation and activity within the areas of the city where new residents tend to flock. In place of all the old, and sometimes grand, churches in the city center, one finds contemporary houses of worship. There are all types of churches, mosques, and spiritual centers scattered throughout the ‘transition’ areas, which are home to many of London’s recent immigrants. The interesting part of this phenomenon is that it is not contained to the minority immigrant neighborhoods. Some extremely wealthy neighborhoods house concentrations of expatriate financiers and their families, who often also gravitate towards local churches.

The difference in style of worship between those new to London and the established British population is stark. The gravitational pull of a group of friends, a common interest, a shared bond, and a welcoming community are all immensely strong for those newly isolated in an enormously foreign environment. The historical Christian churches within the city center and in various suburban areas are sparsely populated for weekend services. In fact, most are busier during the week, when they serve as private schools and daycare centers, filling an educational role, as opposed to a spiritual one.

My impression of this trend was solidified when I attended a Sunday service at the Royal Chapel in Great Windsor Park. This being the preferred place of worship for the queen, I expected the chapel to be packed with locals and tourists alike. However, that was not the case; the building only became moderately filled with the inflow of London School of Economics students. After the service, I asked the local parishioners about the attendance, and received a shrug and head shake. Attendance at Christian churches throughout the country has been declining for years, and the Royal Chapel is no exception.

It appears that the only thriving churches are those who cater to the “new” London population. These churches are the ones reaching out and offering identity and community to those seeking refuge in a strange new place. The unwieldy historical houses of worship scattered throughout the city simply do not provide the sense of belonging that the more individual churches offer, and they are gradually becoming obsolete symbols of past glories.