Brussels. The name of the Belgian capital conjures up two images: one of a busy European city with shops and cafes and interesting places to visit, the other, a center of bureaucracy, headquarters of the European Union.

And when you get there, you do indeed find that it is two places. A majestic town hall stands in Gothic-Baroque splendor, presiding over a Medieval city square teeming with delightful places to eat and chat, while the European Union offices are a good distance away, all gleaming modernity.

What is less well-known, perhaps, is that the city is under the protection of St. Michael the Archangel. This Monday, Sept. 29, is the feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.

No visitor to Brussels should miss an opportunity to visit the cathedral that bears his name. Intriguingly, the town hall also honors St. Michael; a gleaming statue of him crushing Satan is on top of the building’s spire. The statue is brand new, replacing an original that was placed there in the 15th century.

The Cathedral of St. Michael was originally dedicated to St. Gudule. No, I hadn’t heard of her, either! She is a local saint and belongs to the early days of the 8th century. Daughter of a local count, she lived in nearby Hamme. She devoted her days to prayer and caring for the poor and sick, and she was described as “a mother to all the distressed.” Every day, she would walk from her father’s castle to the nearest church for morning Mass while it was still dark. For this purpose, she always had a lantern. Legend says the devil attempted to thwart her devotions by extinguishing the light, but the flame was miraculously rekindled.

St. Gudule’s symbol is thus a lantern, and in the cathedral, up by the main altar, there is a splendid statue of her holding it. At first sight, you might mistake this statue for Our Lady, for it occupies a place of honor and has a bank of candles in front of it, but it is St. Gudule, lantern at the ready. She has been listening to the prayers of the people of Brussels for centuries.

Our Lady is not neglected, however. You will find her statue elsewhere, similarly fronted by a great array of candles, evidence that even in this very secular city people do still like the old symbols of prayer and faith.

Above all, St. Michael gives not just his name, but a sense of strength and protection to this great building. He is honored here. As the visitor walks around, it is impossible not to find the mind echoing with the words of that reassuring and timeless prayer: “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle …”

Take a look at the magnificent, and slightly scary, baroque pulpit, that was carved in 1699 and shows Adam and Eve being turned out of the garden. Also look for St. Michael with his flaming sword.

The Cathedral of St. Michael is a superb sight: Its glorious towers and spires soar up over the old part of the city in gleaming white. It is also vast. Steps lead up to the great doors, and on the way, you will pass a memorial to the much-loved (and devoutly Catholic) late King Baudoin, who is appropriately remembered here, where he frequently worshipped.

Inside the cathedral, one thing strikes the visitor as rather bleak: There is nowhere to kneel. As is the case in most churches in modern Belgium, tight rows of chairs have replaced pews, and people sit throughout Mass, with some standing for the consecration. The placing of the chairs and the absence of kneelers mean it is physically impossible to kneel, except by squeezing past everyone else and walking out into the aisle. This is not a Belgian tradition, simply something that has been introduced in recent decades. Sadly, it means a distinct lack of reverence and awe; inevitably, the liturgy seems a performance at which the congregation is merely an audience, rather than active participants.

But this is still a place of prayer, and people cross themselves and light candles beneath the glow of superb stained glass and the glorious arches that have stood here for centuries. The oldest part of the building dates back to between 1220 and 1270, and the great front with its two gothic towers was built in the 14th century, when European church architecture was perhaps at its most superb.

Some European cathedrals now charge an entry fee, but this one doesn’t. And it does have something of the feel of a “family church,” to the extent that this is the place where Belgium’s royal family has their weddings and christenings. At the entrance there is an interesting display of memorabilia of these and other events in the cathedral’s history. Somehow, this helps to bind the past to the present. This is necessary in a country which is increasingly, and all too evidently, secular.

Brussels is an immensely prosperous city — the shops, restaurants and cafes are full. But sadly, it has a reputation as a sordid center of sexual services. It has an extremely faithless feeling to it. The bureaucracy of the current European Union is somehow symbolic of attempts to build up a new Europe, which is consciously moving away from its Christian past.

This is a city that needs God. How reassuring it is that its great cathedral still stands as a witness to unchanging truths, still welcomes visitors, still glows with the candles of people’s prayers. St. Michael is defending the faithful, and St. Gudule is still keeping her lantern lit for the people of Brussels.

Joanna Bogle is

based in London.