Churches are often tourist attractions. I once heard of an American waiting outside Winchester Cathedral, who said to his wife 'Okay, honey, you do the inside, and I'll do the outside.' As my source was the wife of a Methodist theologian, authenticity is assured. Some people make it their business to visit as many cathedrals as possible, so time must be of the essence.
I suppose I am a church tourist, too, and a mosque and synagogue tourist as well when I get the chance. Architecture is not my strong suit, for I have scant knowledge of the various styles, and the way in which very old buildings manage to stay standing is simply a mystery to me, but I admire the beauty of walls and ceilings, the decorations, and the idiosyncrasies such as little sculptures invisible to congregations and visitors, but made in faith that God could see them.
The history, the thought of generations of worshippers, the numerous associations: these are other things that fascinate. I like to remember facts like the one that Rembrandt's children were christened in the Oude Kerk, Amsterdam, and that the Emperor Justinian cried, 'Ho, Solomon! I have outdone thee,' when he first saw the mighty dome of his Aghia Sophia in Constantinople on its completion in 537.
But it is the atmosphere of peace that also attracts, along with a sense of calm and enduring faith. It is comforting to see a number of people sitting in the pews, deep in thought, prayer or meditation, while outside traffic roars and other people go about their daily business.
I certainly felt comforted when, during a recent visit to Melbourne, I went into St Mary Star of the Sea in West Melbourne, not far from the bustling Victoria Market. This church, I discovered later, is a listed building, and one of the largest places of worship in Australia, having a seating capacity of 1200. It also must be one of the most beautiful.
I'm not sure that one expects to be surprised in church, but I certainly was, because there at Star of the Sea I discovered an image I had never seen before: a statue called the Black Nazarene. Here is Christ, dressed in sumptuous gold-embroidered maroon robes trimmed with lace collar and cuffs, wearing a crown of thorns surmounted by a halo of three rays, and, hands outstretched, shouldering the cross.
And he is black. The practical explanation of