Empty streets. No cars, no buses, a single person walking their dog.
All quiet.
This was not what I expected from London, one of the busiest cities in the world. In the days past, the heart of the city beat with activity, pumping pedestrians and double-deckers throughout the veins and arteries of this great city. And while the city kept up some semblance of its business, we (my father and I) knew that is was just a pretext for the tourists. We knew what lurked beneath the surface of this day.
Brexit. Referendum day for Britain and its fateful decision to leave the EU.
We are often told that the world is exciting, all the events of the world happening at once. We might even desire to be there, seeing the creation of history as it happens. No such luck. Oh, I am not denying that the world can be an exciting place, but on that day in that city I felt timeless. Not a noticeable lack of time, hinting at the passage of some great event, but rather a noticeable lack of any sort of difference.
It all felt so... normal.
Except the quiet.
We had spoken with a cab driver on our first day in the city. We knew that Brexit was fast approaching, and so we asked him what it was like. To paraphrase, "You have Trump, we have Brexit."
Talking with people and watching the news, this did indeed seem to be the case. One of our most divisive elections yet had been mirrored a few months earlier by an equally divisive referendum. Funny how, given the weight of the subject for the British, I still had to relate it to something from my own country for me to finally understand. Spending time among the people was simply not enough.
We can travel to foreign countries yet never leave our homes. Our homes are our base of reference among other things. They are a starting point for understanding the rest of the world. Even though we share the same language, Britain is still a foreign nation, and so this rule still applies.
The city was quiet for a few reasons: It was a public holiday, for starters, the government attempting to get people to vote in greater numbers. This was the formal reason, but the second reason for the quiet of the city was a simple one:
No one wanted to talk to their neighbors for fear of finding out that they voted for 'the other side.'
I spoke of referencing home for understanding, and here the understanding came in droves. It is human nature to seek any reason to justify the hatred of a neighbor, in this case hatred of decision made regarding the res publica, the things of the people. That this decision should overwhelm even a love for fellow citizens, the person living across the street, is a sad but understandable condition of the human race.
I may write more on my time in England at a later date, but it would be cruel for me to end as I could on such a depressing note. In the aftermath of this referendum we had the great honor of sitting in service at St. Paul's Cathedral. The sermon was one of unity in Christ, and unity because of Christ. Truer words were never spoken.
The solution was there, right in front of us.
The person sitting next to me was not British. He was Christian. The person across from him was not pro-Brexit or anti-Brexit; He too was a Christian.
Even in a foreign nation, I was among my brothers and sisters in Christ.
Even in a foreign nation, I was home.
