Unlock the Editor’s Digest for free
Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.
Working in the historic heart of London’s financial district, one is never far away from a church. Sometimes dwarfed by skyscrapers or blocked by office blocks, commuters may glimpse a spire or two as they hurry to and from work, hear the distant strains of a carol service or perhaps a peal of bells. But how many of us truly appreciate this remarkable part of the City’s heritage?
“People often walk in and say ‘I’ve worked around the corner for 35 years, but I’ve never been in here before,’” says Reverend Canon Alison Joyce, the rector of St Bride’s, the journalists’ church in Fleet Street.
She has made it her mission to encourage people of all faiths and none to enter and experience Wren’s Grade I-listed masterpiece and the 2,000 years of history on which its foundations rest.
To enter and explore its secrets is a profound experience at any time of year, but especially so at Christmas. There has been a church on this site since the 6th century, as a tiny medieval chapel in the crypt attests.
After St Bride’s and countless other City churches were razed to the ground by the Great Fire of London in 1666, 51 of them were rebuilt — the majority designed by Sir Christopher Wren — only to be ravaged again in the Blitz.
It is miraculous that so many have survived, but some question how much longer their doors can remain open.
City churches are so much more than just places of worship. They contain a rich and remarkable history, precious to the whole of London. You do not have to be a regular churchgoer or even a Christian to appreciate this — but your chances of wandering in and discovering it by accident are dwindling.
Of the 40 or so churches in the Square Mile that have survived, not all are regularly open to the public. Friends of the City Churches organises volunteer church watchers to enable access for the well-organised weekday visitor. But the financial challenges are considerable, given the mounting costs of keeping listed monuments in good repair.
Many assume that the Church of England or the government would cover the expense, but Joyce points out that St Bride’s and other churches are self-funding and reliant on donations.
Across the UK, church attendance remains lower than pre-pandemic levels. Yet the unique issue for City of London churches is that congregations are transient — this section of the capital’s bustling working population may include some of the richest people in the whole country, but it vanishes at the weekend.
And while many thousands of City workers have flocked to carol services in the run-up to Christmas, far fewer regularly attend midweek services. The handful of churches which do hold Sunday services are reliant on congregations travelling in. The introduction of the congestion charge from midday at weekends is ill-timed for services starting at 11am, but pleas for it to be extended by an hour have fallen on deaf ears.
Nevertheless, churches have shown great enterprise in adapting to the modern needs of the weekday workers and enticing them inside.
One of the favourite lunch spots of Financial Times journalists is Cafe Below, a restaurant in the crypt of St Mary le Bow church on Cheapside, just a stone’s throw from our office. A few minutes walk in the other direction and you’ll find The Wren Coffee, situated inside St Nicholas Cole Abbey, which has been described as London’s most beautiful coffee shop. It is also the only place I know selling London Fog — an Earl Grey latte which, when laced with honey, has been known to help several colleagues facing imminent deadlines.
Other City churches are famed for music, concerts and recitals. St Andrew’s in Holborn regularly hosts the Orchestra of the City. And if you have not heard the world famous choir of St Bride’s, you have not lived. Yet the church is also drawing in newcomers by offering something that is a rare commodity in the hustle and bustle of the City — total silence.
When Joyce became the rector ten years ago, she was struck by the number of City workers she could see through plate glass windows still toiling in their offices at half past eleven at night. Her response was to found a Space for Silence. Every weekday at 4pm, the church lights are dimmed, candles are lit and all comers are welcomed in to simply sit, reflect, pray if they want to and experience an oasis of silence and calm.
“If you can reconnect with that sort of stillness, it helps you get some perspective regardless of whether or not you’re a person of faith,” she says. So if you happen to walk past a City church and find the door is open, there’s even more reason to step inside to find the treasures within.
Claer Barrett is the FT’s consumer editor
claer.barrett@ft.com Instagram @Claerb
Leave a Comment