Driving down the main street in – there she is, the star of the show, supported by background singers. Lights flash in the foreground as the grand old lady makes her appearance, ready to beguile those who watch her. She’s seen a lot in her day, and her presence sings still. German bombs took her utility but not her spirit – they flattened all around her but the integrity of her walls and the strength of her foundations remain. Around her, a city grew – and traffic flows, sometimes quickly, at times at the snail’s pace of rush hour. Having had the hell scared right out of me, I’m no longer the churchy type. I know that the institution represents repression to some. I know that in history it has been the source of dark ages, and inquisitions, and crusades. But I also know that things change, and I know that things evolve, and I understand that all of society rests on cornerstones as ancient as they are imperfect. I cannot help but see her and then sing along, and to lift my voice within her and also sing my own imperfect hallelujah. She’s old this one. But she’s still the star of the show.