Many London neighborhoods seem to shut down on Sundays. Corporate and government offices are dark, sandwich shops are closed and small businesses locked up. But this phenomenon doesn’t necessarily correspond with a mad dash to churches, mosques, temples and synagogues. While religious days of worship and rest vary across faith lines, such traditions originally established with a sacred purpose seem to have lost their meaning in the flood of a secular society.

One afternoon, I asked a shop owner what hours he kept on Sundays.

"None," he replied with a grin. "We close for the Lord’s day," The look on his face and his tone of voice showed his disregard for what has become an archaic excuse not to work one day of the week.

Nearly every week, I attend a different church in London. Among them are Westminster Cathedral, a large, ornate Catholic church; St. Paul’s Cathedral, the famous Anglican church with a dome second only to St. Peter’s Basilica; Wesley’s Chapel and Saint Savior’s Church, a Catholic family church at the end of my street.

Though I’m not Catholic, Anglican or Methodist, I’ve felt at home worshipping with these diverse congregations, thousands of miles away from my own. I may have knelt when I was supposed to sit or said "debts" when others muttered "trespasses," but I worshiped alongside people from Africa, Asia, Europe and America.

Regardless of their origin, ardent churchgoers, made up a small part of each congregation I visited. Filling in the rows behind and beside were hundreds of eyes, following the clergy and the prayers and responses of the supposed faithful.

Coming from a Southern community in the Bible Belt of America where almost everyone attends church regularly, I suddenly felt out of place praying as a a lady sitting next to me wrote in her travel journal as I recited the Lord’s Prayer. For the first time, I felt like part of the small minority of the world that practicing Christians actually constitute.

I’ve always thought of myself as an average, modern student. But living with 38 other Elon students, I soon found that my weekly routine differs from many others. In my little flat I was soon designated spiritual adviser for my roommates simply because I had a Bible and a devotional book in my room.

In the southeastern United States, my role wouldn’t seem terribly uncommon. Bibles and devotionals are commonly found in homes of native southerners. Even secular reading material such as newspapers have places for faith and religion news.

Since I’ve been in London, the only news stories relating somewhat to religion have been regarding the failing health of the pope in Rome or the Anglican debate of the gay Episcopal clergy in America. Religion certainly does not have a daily presence in the media or popular culture in London.

Though certain ethnic neighborhoods in London visibly hold fast to religious practices and Christians hold four to five services in churches across the city, religion appears to be disappearing from mainstream society.

This is not to say that the English are a godless people. Many British teens I’ve spoken to express a belief in God or in a higher power, but do not choose to practice an organized religion or interact with a community of believers. This professed belief is quite similar to many of the people I live with and reflects a common attitude of many students at Elon. But, as I’ve been told repeatedly by British acquaintances, Americans seem to be far more religious than Londoners.