Around this time of year I like to church-hop. I never go for the service but I like to show up during open-hours when the choirs practice. I know some of the singers from school, town, through mutual friends. A few nights ago I was nodding off in the second-to-last pew in St. Thomas’s, one of the larger churches I frequent. Its stoic spirals and steeple remind me of the past. Two stained-glass windows—which were situated at opposite ends of the church and comprised nearly all of the wall on ...