St. Michael's Church, Hamburg

Stand still for a moment and listen. Gulls call from the direction of the harbour, traffic hums along the streets below, and above it all rises a tall tower of red brick and green copper. The air often carries a little salt and a little rain. This is Saint Michael's Church. Hamburg simply calls it the Michel, and for many locals that one short word means home.

The Michel is a Lutheran church, and it is one of the five principal churches of Hamburg. Yet its role here goes beyond worship. For generations, sailors coming up the river Elbe looked for this tower on the skyline. When the green spire appeared, they knew they were almost back in port. Many Hamburg people still describe that view as the moment a journey ends.

The church you see today is not the first Michel. It is, in fact, the third great church on this spot. An earlier church stood here in the seventeenth century, when this district was still a newer part of the city. In 1750, lightning struck the tower. Fire spread quickly, and the building burned. The city decided to rebuild, and it did so with real ambition.

The new design came from the builder Ernst Georg Sonnin, working with Johann Leonhard Prey. Sonnin was a practical, inventive engineer as much as an architect. He solved difficult problems of timber, brick, and weight. The rebuilt church was consecrated in the 1760s, and the tower was finished some years later. Sonnin's work made the Michel one of the most important Baroque churches in northern Germany. Baroque means the grand, theatrical style of that era — curves, light, and gold.

Here is the first surprise. The Michel burned a second time. In 1906, workers were repairing the copper of the tower. A spark from their soldering work set the old timber alight. Once again the church was lost to fire. Hamburg did not choose a modern replacement. Instead, the city rebuilt the Michel closely to Sonnin's plans, this time with a stronger frame. The restored church opened again in 1912.

The story did not end there. During the Second World War, bombing raids badly damaged the church, along with much of Hamburg. After the war, the city restored it once more. So when you look at these walls, you are looking at a building that has risen again and again. The shape belongs to the eighteenth century. The stone and steel carry the work of several generations.

Before you go inside, look up above the main entrance. A large bronze figure of the Archangel Michael stands there. He is shown in triumph over the devil, who lies beneath him. Michael is the warrior angel of Christian tradition, the protector against evil. It is fitting that a port city, so often hit by fire and war, placed him at its door.

Now step through into the nave, the main hall of the church. The change is sudden. Outside, everything is red brick and grey sky. Inside, the space is white, cream, and gold, and full of soft light. Curved galleries sweep around the hall. There are no heavy dark corners here. The room was built so that a very large congregation could see and hear well, and more than two thousand people can gather inside.

Take a seat in one of the pews and look around slowly. Notice how the galleries bend like the inside of a shell. Notice how the gold catches the light from the tall windows. Music fills this room on many days, because the Michel has several organs. When they play together, the sound seems to come from every direction at once. Even quiet footsteps on the floor travel a long way here.

Here is a second surprise, and it sits beneath your feet. Below the nave lies a large brick crypt, with low vaults and a cool, earthy smell. Among the people buried there is Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, a son of Johann Sebastian Bach. He served as music director for Hamburg's churches for many years. Sonnin, the builder of this church, also rests in the crypt. A walk down there feels like a quiet conversation with the city's past.

Music links the Michel to another famous name. The composer Johannes Brahms was born in Hamburg, not far from here, and he was baptised in this church. Later he left for Vienna, but Hamburg still claims him proudly. If you hear choir rehearsals or an organ practising, remember that music has filled this neighbourhood for centuries.

Then there is the tower. You can climb the stairs or take a lift to a viewing platform high above the city. From there, Hamburg spreads out below you — the cranes of the port, the water of the Elbe, the long roofs of the old warehouse district, and the green copper of other church spires. On the tower face is a huge clock, among the largest church clocks in Germany. And by long tradition, a trumpeter climbs the tower to play a chorale, a simple hymn, toward the four directions of the city.

When you come back down to the square, pause once more. Look at the tower against the sky, and listen for the harbour beyond the rooftops. The Michel has burned, fallen, and risen again, and it still stands where sailors once looked for it. As you walk away, turn around after a few streets. You will likely see that green spire above the houses, quietly showing you the way back.