Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

The different sites of worship that we visited as a class offered us a way to understand some of the major religions that make up London.  Within the city Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity are embraced in different neighborhoods and different people. Here is what I learned from our visits to the different places of worship.

The Hindu Temple-

The first thing I noticed about the temple was its high walls and gated entrances. This place was not kidding around about safety. The guard in front was wearing a bullet-proof vest. I thought this was very unusual because I haven’t heard much at all about religious violence towards or against the Hindu people in London or anywhere else. After the visit, however, I realized what an amazing structure it is, and why protection of this sort might be necessary. It’s the largest Hindu temple outside of India and the building took a long time and lots of effort to build. Preserving it completely is extremely important. Inside the temple, I realized other aspects of the Hindu community here in London. First off, the temple was not only for worship, but it was a social gathering place. It seemed like a place where some members of the community go just to see other people and not for any religious reason. The little museum inside the temple was extremely informative. If you invite people to come and tour your temple who may or may not know what your religion really means, what’s better than a visual appealing and educational exhibit? I think it was a brilliant idea to include it in the temple, and it really shows how much the temple is trying to include outsiders in their religion. Being able to sit in on the religious ceremony was another informative experience I had at the temple.

Westminster Abby/Saint Paul’s Cathedral-

I didn’t get much insight into the Christian religion from my visit to Westminster Abby. Although it is still functioning as a religious institution, the majority of people there were there to see the dead people in the floors, walls, and stone tombs. It was exciting to walk over the names of Darwin and Dickens. It was a beautiful building and its history was also intriguing. The only time I realized I was in a place of worship is when John told us to listen to the loud-speaker and observe a moment of silence. Why is this? Why has Westminster Abby embraced tourism and dampened its religious value? I have an idea…money. The amount of people willing to shell out some cash to see kings and queens, composers and poets, who they had only read about or read must be ridiculous. And although it does not have the same amount of tourist attraction, St. Paul’s is similar. Maybe I am missing something, but these places seem to have diverged, to point, from religion and have almost joined the ranks of Big Ben and Tower Bridge.

The Mosque-

This was the worst, but probably most interesting visit. It was interesting, not because of the information that I received from the tour guide, but because of the way the whole group was treated during the visit. I think this gave me the most insight into Islam in London. I was honestly nervous about visiting the mosque, only because I didn’t know what to expect. All I know is that in the country I come from, many people have intense views about Islam. Anyway, the tour guide seemed extremely uncomfortable, like he didn’t know where to start. He asked us about what we know about Islam, but what I know is extremely skewed by the media inside the United States. I wanted to know what he had to tell me. He answered our questions, but I didn’t feel that that gave me a concrete idea about what Islam is, like the introduction to Hinduism I got at the Hindu Temple. The most informative part of the visit was when the women dressed from head to toe in black closed the window shades and locked the doors to the hall where the children were playing. I know that no one is hiding anything, but we came there to learn, not judge, and I feel that the whole time we were there it was like they felt Islam was on trial.

The Synagogue-

I have been to synagogues in the United States and this one wasn’t very different. The man leading our tour was very enthusiastic about our visit and went directly into explaining Judaism and its existence in the UK and London. I did not know the influence of Jews in the UK and so it was very informative. The history of the building was also cool. He pointed to where I was sitting and he told me that a bomb during the Blitz landed right there. I thought that the plaque dedicated to the Queen was very interesting. I didn’t expect to see that there.

I learned a lot from these visits. They were worth while and gave me a better understanding of religion’s role in historical and modern day London.

As you all probably know, the Jewish high holidays, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur were over this past week and a half.  The combination of these days and being in a new place has, along with making me more than a little homesick, made me curious to explore Jewish communities in London.  I was lucky enough to encounter three very Jewish communities here: the West London Synagogue, which I attended for Rosh Hashanah services, the Liberal Jewish Synagogue, for Yom Kippur services, and The Central London Synagogue, which we visited as a group.

As with the various Jewish communities in the States, these three synagogues were drastically different from one another.  The Central London Synagogue (where I did not attend a service), is Orthodox.  I could tell the moment that we walked in, based on the layout of the sanctuary, with separate seating for men and women.  The West London Synagogue is Reform, but I did not experience the type of Reform Jewish service that I am accustomed to at home: it was over all more “traditional reform,” with less music, and even less Hebrew than I prefer.  The Liberal Jewish Synagogue’s service was easily my favorite, probably because it was the most like the synagogue that I grew up attending.  There, the audience sang along with the choir and the rabbi.  Some folk music was incorporated, and I heard and read along with more Hebrew than at the Reform service, although many prayers were still said in English.  I finished a very personally fulfilling Yom Kippur by taking a walk in Regents Park and talking with my family on the phone.

But what struck me more than the disorientation I experienced as I explored the various synagogues, was how much felt familiar. Fundamentally, I experienced the same prayers, similar music, a few people conspicuously wearing mesh sneakers with their dresses or suits, so as not to wear leather on Yom Kippur, and many congregants greeting each other enthusiastically with “Shana Tovah,” (have a good new year).  (Even many aspects of the Orthodox synagogue were very familiar, though I do not agree with much of the Orthodox viewpoint.)  It made me think of what I was often told by adults when I was younger, but never gave much thought to: wherever in the world I go, I can find something familiar by visiting a Jewish community.

Despite (and maybe because of) the familiarity, I was startled near the end of the first service I attended to hear a prayer for the queen.  I wondered if it was historically based, maybe something required in all religious services in England during a certain time period.  But this added prayer turned out a difference that demonstrated another similarity.

Our guide at the Orthodox synagogue that we visited explained a stained glass window that honored the Queen by telling us that a prayer for the Queen is added because the safety of the Jews always depends on the safety of the country in which they are living.  Therefore, the prayer for the Queen corresponds to the prayer briefly said at my synagogue at home for peace within “our nation.”  So saying a prayer for “our Sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth,” is just a very English way of following a custom that I have seen in services for my whole life.  I wonder how many other differences in Jewish customs and synagogues worldwide can be traced back to the same ideas as one another.

Within the overarching theme of  “Community” in our London course, we have talked almost ad nauseam about religion. Not only have we visited churches, a Hindu mandir, a mosque, and a synagog, but the topic of religion and its related issues come up daily in discussions amongst ourselves. (Completely unprovoked by Professor Qualls!) Several members of our group are particularly religious, and their world views and values reflect this. The strength of these individuals’ faith and beliefs fascinate me. It amazes me that people my age seem to have already got it all figured out, they know where they stand, when I haven’t even really begun to piece things together.

Religion has always been a topic of interest to me, because I have always struggled with it. There are just so many questions that can never really be answered in indisputable, concrete fact, not to mention so many faiths to choose from. Somehow, I always have a hard time… well, buying it. So for a long time now I have pushed religion to the back of my mind, I’ve tried to avoid the uneasiness and discomfort that comes with thinking about it. But now, in this environment, it is unavoidable. As a Jew (at least secularly) this is a particularly hard time of the year for me, as Rosh Hashanah has come and gone, unobserved by me, and Yom Kippur fast approaches. Since I have gone to college and it has been up to me whether or not I attend services for the high holidays, I so far have not. This does not mean, however, that I haven’t still felt pangs of guilt when I have watched the holidays come and go, no matter how hard I try to feign indifference. I feel deeply connected to my Judaism culturally, and I would consider it my ethnicity more so than generic “white,” but it feels decidedly half-hearted without the spiritual connection.

Since I’m already on the brink of pouring my heart out on a class blog, I may as well just tip the whole damn pot over. As some of you may have noticed, I became visibly upset during our visit to the synagogue the other day. I’m not sure what came over me, exactly. I was shocked that I reacted so strongly to something I’ve seen before. At every religious institution we have visited, we have seen very blatant physical manifestations of the subjugation of women. Although my synagog at home does not separate the men and women, and we have even had a woman rabbi, the fact that such discrimination (and for me, outright belittlement) occurs anywhere in the Jewish faith AT ALL deeply upsets me and creates an enormous obstacle for me to be able to come to full acceptance.

It’s not just the head coverings and other “modesty” clothing articles, even the separate seating I can almost tolerate, (separate is NOT equal, think back to the treatment of African Americans in the U.S. not long ago) but its the fact that women are denied leadership positions and the top level and most sacred aspects of the religion. (We have seen this in every religion we have looked at.) As Jews, we are taught that the Torah is the most sacred, wonderful thing we could ever experience. It is supposed to hold all of the information we need, all the rules by which to conduct ourselves, all the history of our earliest ancestors. In Orthodox Judaism, women are not allowed to read from the Torah, and they are not allowed to have a bat mitzvah, the rite of passage comparable to a bar mitzvah which marks a Jew’s transition from child to adult. (The rules vary from congregation to congregation, but I am speaking here of the most extreme, by the book, traditional interpretation.) If there really is a god as we are made to believe, I cannot accept that such a “perfect” being would condone sexism in any way, shape, or form. How is it at all logical, that something such as the Torah should be denied to half of the Jewish population? (as the orthodox see it).

Our guide at the synagog only increased my distress with his attempts to convey that Judaism is a matriarchal religion. It’s really not. Judaism is traced through the mother only because it’s always obvious who the mother of the child is, whereas the father was much dicier to verify before the age of paternity testing. At the synagog we visited, women are not allowed to read from the Torah. They may be bat mitzvahed, but it is a much shallower, lesser version. I tried to speak to our guide about this after he had given his long-winded, unbearable shpiel and he literally walked away from me. I have witnesses. It could have been that he just needed to catch up to lead the group, but instead of saying so and offering to discuss it further later, he simply ran away. I have tried to ask these questions numerous times, to many different people, and never, ever have I gotten a satisfying answer.

We have heard the argument that it is cultural rather than religious, but, looking at it pragmatically, culture should be adapted to contemporary times if there is no conflict with the scriptures. Why wouldn’t you move forward if nowhere does it say you can’t? Why do women put up with this? Open, institutionalized racism has been virtually wiped off the map, why hasn’t sexism?

People who believe that women cannot read from the Torah, or be rabbis, or become a priest, or the Pope, or an Imam, need to quit squirming around the issue and say outright the clear message they are sending: You are less.



After visiting several religious sites, including St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, and the East London Mosque, I have noticed two prevailing influences on places of religious worship in London: government involvement and tourism. Given England’s history of combining church and state, and the level of tourism in London, it is no wonder that one finds these influences, to varying degrees, in places of religious worship around the city. What is debatable is what effect tourism and government have on religious life and the worship within each of these buildings. In my opinion, churches, temples, synagogues, mosques, and the like may receive some benefits from tourism and a close relationship of Church(capital c, intending to refer to institutions) and State. However, on the whole, the influence of the government and the need to attract tourists lead to some troublesome trends in London’s places of religious worship.

By declaring a national religion, a country will very likely run into one of two scenarios. Either a small central government, such as a monarch, will use the national religion as a way to increase power and authority, and will persecute anyone who does not agree with their religious views. One can simply observe the history of the monarchy as they walk through Westminster Abbey, and see that this happened in England with the persecution, and massacre, of Catholics and others. This scenario has a horrible effect on religion, not to mention the human rights issues. If a ruler can influence the Church, then the Church’s message will quickly become distorted. Even if the ruler moves far away from the central texts and traditions of whatever faith is the national religion, there is no room for dissent. Historically, this situation has played itself out repeatedly.

The second scenario that can result from a combining of Church and State is what, in my view, is playing out in present day London. In this scenario, because the Anglican Church is the official religion for a nation that is increasingly secular and religiously diverse, the Church has become, frankly, bland. As a result, no one (or at, least, the intention is no one) is offended by the existence of a national religion. This also distorts the message of the Church, as governmental control has seemingly caused the Church to concentrate more on pleasing the masses than adhering to texts and traditions that could cause controversy. This “blandness” starts a vicious circle, as everyone involved in the Church sees no reason to attend anymore because it is no different than the world around them. This, in my view, is why when you go into St. Paul’s Cathedral or Westminster Abbey you don’t feel like there is an active faith community existent within the building. However, when we visited places like the Mandir or the East London Mosque one felt a sense of vibrancy and activity because these institutions are not as attached to the government. The lay leader at the synagogue suggested that combining Church and State has its advantages and disadvantages. Certainly, government involvement in religion has allowed students to become more educated in different faiths(Although exactly what they are learning and should be learning opens another can of worms) and governmental intervention allows the church to be funded, but is it worth watering down the principals of a major religion?

Picture obtained from http://www.mandir.org/

Almost as prevalent as the influence of government is that of tourism. Even the Mandir had a small museum you had to pay to enter (unless, of course, you had a London’s Visitor’s Pass-a card that also provides discounts at the gifts shops next to the crypt in St. Paul’s). From the perspective of the religious institutions, an influx of tourists allows you to share your belief system, but it’s a fine line between an educational experience and a money-making venture. At what point, and I don’t have an answer, does opening one’s place of religious worship become more about the cool architecture and less about the faith people are observing within the building? I am not saying any of the places we visited crossed such a line, but I know I am not the only one disturbed by the presence of gift shops in churches.

I am interested in seeing if Norwich’s places of religious worship, and in particular Norwich’s churches, differ from that of London’s. I do think we have seen people honestly observing faith here in London and I enjoyed many of the visits we made to these institutions. I simply think that they all, to wildly varying degrees, feel the effects, mostly negative, of tourists and government control.

So far we’ve visited several cathedrals and chapels of the Church of England, a Hindu temple, a Sunni mosque, and a synagogue, and as far as I can tell, Christianity seems to be the only dying religion in England. To be fair, I’ve only visited really famous cathedrals and they’re bound to be turned into museums because of their history, but regardless, church attendance in England, belief in a God: way down. I’ve been racking my brain to figure out why, and I think the best I can do is work through a few of the commonalities among all the holy places I’ve seen.

The temple, the mosque, and the synagogue all emphasized their connections to the community and the multi-functionality of their buildings when we visited. In fact, at the mosque, the man we spoke to said “children come to play and then to pray,” suggesting that a multi-purpose building keeps the religion thriving. But at St. Paul’s our tour guide said that prior to the Great Fire, church had become “run down” because it was being used for multiple purposes (markets, dentist, etc), so the argument works in both directions and doesn’t really get us anywhere.

The temple, the mosque, and the synagogue speakers also took extreme pains to emphasize the bridging of religions, especially to Christianity. All three mentioned their interfaith programs between different religions, including the cathedrals (even though none of the chapels or cathedrals made any mention of the other faiths they were connected to and working with). The non-Christian religions also made special efforts to explain their religions in relation to Christianity, in some cases understating differences in favor of finding common ground. I know some people felt this was a defensive move and a watering down, but I understood it as an emphasis on bridging differences. The speakers expected a Christian audience, and each one mentioned Jesus as an important figure, even from Hinduism, which is a non-Abrahamic religion (it doesn’t come from the same branch as the other three). The best explanation I can think of for this is that Christianity, as the official dominant religion, even if it’s unofficially dying, can take itself for granted because of its connection to imperialism. All other faiths must places themselves in coordination with the colonizer, but the Church of England, as an official religion does not have a stake in getting along. It belongs here and need not please anyone else. (I’m speaking in terms of practicality. There are plenty of other more altruistic reasons for getting along.)

All four faiths also emphasize the importance of their religious history, the history of their specific holy building, and their place in it. Weirdly, this seemed to strengthen identity for some, and weaken it for others. Jewish history, as a group in diaspora, is such a uniting force that it allows for an entire Jewish culture and identity that complements the religion. Christian history seems to obscure it. Instead of learning about Christianity at the chapels and cathedrals, we treated it like a museum, viewing artifacts. I again want to attribute this to imperialism. Groups who live under the threat of obliteration hold their roots tighter. Even though the Protestants and Catholics have been intermittently persecuted, Christianity has been associated with England for quite a while, and England is not in danger of going anywhere.

I also noticed that all the non-Christian faiths emphasized the fact that they were not evangelical. While they aim to teach others about their faith, they do not actively convert, while active evangelism is an important part of Christianity (most orthodox sects). It seems like an interesting coincidence that England, an imperial nation that converts other nations to Englishness, would be attracted to a religion that converts followers (Ironically, the opposite seems to be happening). Christianity can easily be transformed into a tool for imperialism. Maybe that perversion coupled with the expectation that it will just always be there is what has caused its downfall.

Family. I’m not part of a particularly close one. This summer I was fortunate enough to stumble into Issi’s Place where I was adopted into an incredibly quirky and close-knit family of Hasidic Jews in Beechwood, Ohio. At Issi’s- a pizza parlor that keeps kosher- we got into each other’s way in the tiny kitchen, sweated through humid summer days next to the oven, stressed out over wrong orders, yelled at each other for taking too long to close the store, and then sat around for hours afterwards chatting the night away about Israel, Judaism, my life story, their life stories, life in general…It was truly fantastic. I’ve never before really had a home that I yearned for when traveling but the lack of Issi and my co-workers in my everyday life has definitely shown me just how difficult the feeling of homesickness can be to handle. With every kippah-wearing gentleman that passes here in England, I am reminded of the family I have back in a small pizza parlor in Ohio.

Enter the happy part of this story. Yesterday, a friend and I stumbled upon a concert of Klezmer Music that was happening in a beautiful area of Regent’s Park. Upwards of a hundred Hasidic Jews were gathered around a gazebo listening and dancing together. Instantly, a sense of nostalgia that I’ve never experienced before just hit me. In a corner of a park in London, England, a community much like the one I so love in Beechwood, Ohio collected in a preciously familiar fun-loving, care-giving way.

Now, the sentimental part of me can only go on so long before the liberal arts college student in me starts to analyze situations. Many of our readings on London’s history have addressed how immigrant communities are viewed in the city. A few of those readings have compared today’s “outcast” immigrant culture to yesterday’s “outcast” Jewish community. While this may not be the most politically correct of comparisons, it supports an optimism that London will accept the cultures that it seems to be ‘outcasting’ currently. If the same Jewish community that once was separated from the majority of the city can now celebrate a music form that has close ties to its culture in one of the most heavily visited parks in the city then clearly the city can accept what it once rejected so fully. Assuming this progression remains in place, today’s immigrant cultures that seem to be outcasts in London’s society would seem to have light at the end of the tunnel to look forward to. That being said, the hope is that London doesn’t actually continue on in the same vein as it has been. While we should celebrate the fact that the city can and eventually usually does recognize and attempt to better its mistakes, we should actively push for a change to take place to make sure that such segregation never happens in the first place. Yes, it’s great that the city can apologize but wouldn’t it be better if it didn’t have to apologize at all? Wouldn’t it be best if the mistake wasn’t made in the first place?

By birth, I’m not a part of a Jewish community whether it be a secular or incredibly orthodox branch of the religion. This summer showed me that one does not need to be born into a family in order to be a part of it though. Like a family, a city cannot hose whom its members are. Maybe at one point in time this could have happened, ut- thankfully- we are past those days. We now live in an age in which cultures of all different roots are living in the same area. We need to do more than that though. We need to bump into each other, tell a few jokes with one another, and invite each other over for dinner. This may sound a little naïve or wishy-washy but I think the parallel is there. Issi accepted me into a community this summer that I could not have differed more from. He didn’t make me sit in a corner by myself and only speak when be spoken to. I went to the pizza parlor to do more than just work. An outsider both culturally and religiously, I was accepted despite our differences into their conversations and they into mine. London would do well to start doing the same.