Continental Cambridge II
Julie Luebken
Bridgemas really is a lovely time of year. It barely hits November that you hear the soothing screech of Mariah Carey, taste the sickly-sweet flavour of mulled wine and appreciate the wonderfully tacky trees that adorn Porters’ Lodges everywhere. This temporally misplaced holiday was quite strange to me at first, as I am sure it is to everyone. Really, Cambridge, you can’t wait another month? I don’t want to get into the age-old argument of lengthening the Cambridge term but, in the most French way possible, there are certain things I’d like to criticize.
Credit: Julie Luebken
November 2018, my first chapel service. At a loss for what to wear, I show up in a skirt and shirt, classic combo. Some wear Santa hats, others a tidy suit or a nice dress. There’s variety and I don’t feel too out of place. Naturally, I’m nervous. The stunning chapel is buzzing with Christmas excitement. It seems like this is an important event. People gather in groups, scuttling around to find a seat. Eager freshers, like me, push to the front: a huge mistake in hindsight. The reverend gives a heart-warming speech, mostly about Christmastime and being grateful for what we have. Now, the choir comes out. Now, embarrassment begins.
Before coming to Cambridge, I had never heard or even seen a choir in my life. The procession of white gowns and red hoods through college resembled a strange ritual – I’d stop in awe while others would keep walking. I brought up my disorientation to my friends, many of whom had been in a choir before, at school or as children. It seems like a pretty standard thing to do and while these songs are religious, those that had been in a choir before did not seem to necessarily subscribe to the Church’s discourse. Everyone knows these hymns! Get a little too drunk at a formal and suddenly everyone is singing along. Go to your college’s chapel service and I can guarantee all the lips around you will be moving.
The only song I knew was Jingle Bells. I was lucky the choir even sang that. Otherwise, I was clumsily mouthing nonsense for a good while. My friends found it funny – how could they not? The lyrics were right there, and the choir was mostly singing for us. You’ve never heard of this hymn?How could I! Most of it is in Latin, most of it is religiously oriented and I have not been singing these since the age of five. My choir career was very short-lived, to say the least. Beyond the utter confusion, I felt slightly singled-out standing there silently, as the chapel burst with song and melody. I left chapel that day more Scrooge or Grinch than enchanted-child-ready-for-present.
Religion in the UK is an atheist man’s game (a gross generalization, I know). When you go to a university where every college has a chapel, you start to question the significance of religion. Institutionally, it is so deep-rooted to remain practically unnoticed or blindly accepted as part of how things are. I didn’t think it was normal when I arrived, but now I walk past the chapel and the religious insignia around college without so much as a second thought. When I need advice on my mental health, I go to the reverend who happens to be Dean of Welfare. This doesn’t seem to make anyone uncomfortable. I count myself lucky, as an atheist, but if I were Jewish, Muslim, Hindu or any other non-Christian religion, would I really feel comfortable with this overt display of religious preference? Walking into a room to discuss personal issues, only to be confronted with biblical images, crosses on the wall and a man in a dog collar just doesn’t feel right. In order to be a place that flaunts its accepting nature, encourages diversity of thought and remains a space where all students are able to live, should the Colleges (and the University more generally) have religious affiliations?
As a French woman, I am unequivocally dedicated to the principle of laïcité. I don’t think religion has a place in public life. The French Republic is dedicated to this concept of a society free from religious symbols. Our beliefs live in our head and are to be shared within a community, but these are private practices. Worship should be done on one’s own time, not in an open forum where everyone has an equal right to exist. While I understand religion to be a cultural aspect of British society, I think its pervasiveness is worth more attention. What message does this convey to non-Christians? Does religion interfere with the intellectual freedom to be found at University’s? I have many questions and few answers, but I would like to be met with more than a shrug when this discussion happens.