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The Call to Love the CityJuly 12, 2009 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost I think I always knew that I would become a city-dweller. Though my childhood matured in remote suburban environments, my father’s evolving corporate career meant that my family’s many relocations always revolved around the dynamic hub of a large city. But as for that, my parents had a very ambivalent sense about cities, as in, cities were evidently necessary for economic reasons but full of crime, scary people and negative energy. Of course, this sensibility matched an emergent mainstream, middle-American attitude in the years after the Second World War, sponsored in part by the burgeoning of the middle class, racial migrations that inflamed historic bigotries, and a massive investment in the highway system ushering in the age of the commuter. The nadir for the American city was symbolized by the near bankruptcy of New York in the early ‘70’s. New York was then famous for abandoned buildings, crack addicts and a thoroughly graffitied transportation system. And it was towards the end of that decade that I had my first real taste of city life when Melissa and I decided to join the staff of a brand new crisis facility for homeless youth in Times Square. In those days Times Square was the squalid epicenter for an immense sex and drug trade. It still had the residue of an older, classier reputation, but honestly, it was no place for a family to spend any time – no Disney-esque environment like it is today with Broadway turned into a giant pedestrian mall – and it was absolutely deadly for the desperate youth who were attracted by the seeming razzle-dazzle of “bright lights, big city”. It was a grueling year of learning for a naïve young couple, but still, a wonderful year, too. Despite the sleazy neighborhood and grueling work, we loved the city and sensed an inevitable future here. In fact, it was during that year I slipped into the back of Christ Church for the first time as a morning service came to an end in search of a Methodist hymnal and had a startled sensation of being home. This feeling was so strong I mentioned it to Melissa by saying something like, “I think I know where we might wind up one day.” I was all of 26 years old at the time. And so it was that 8 years later I received an unsolicited invitation to consider coming here, or as it still seemed to me then, to come home. You could say, I suppose, that I felt called here but that was as much about the city as it was anything else. The congregation was in an extremely diminished position, so it wasn’t the vitality of the place that caught my inner passion. It was more about the opportunity, as well as the challenge of doing something usefully Christian here, and also the charismatic draw of 8 million people jammed up together in a relatively small space, the pulsing sense of tremendous energies of every sort. And so it has always been – the city as homing beacon for generations of adventurers and dreamers, some who have sought a “big” future for themselves, those who have wanted to cavort among power brokers and “players,” step onto a stage, imbibe the rich cultural elixirs, or find a fortune at the end of a rainbow. And it has called others who wanted to lose themselves, or find themselves, or just hang out for a while. It holds the extremes of wealth and poverty, over-indulged privilege and desperate privation. It has been this way with cities since their inception millennia ago. Cities form the warp and woof of human history. Big stuff happens in cities. Good stuff and bad stuff, every sort of stuff there is. It’s no accident that our city was chosen as the site of a massive, deadly attack 8 years ago or that the man who perpetrated the largest criminal swindle on record made his home here, just up the street. He was just one of our many neighbors. Jesus spent much of his ministry wandering around the countryside but he knew his destiny was in the great city. It was the home of kings and governors and high priests, the epicenter of power and religious life for his people who were drawn to its impressive walls and magnificent structures as people are always lured by power, money, religious pilgrimage and stimulating experience fostered by the best and worst of what humans can conjure. Though we generally treat it selfishly, taking from it – by god! – what we want, hoping against hope it can deliver the goods of every individual desire, part of the city’s draw involves the paradoxical lure of anonymity in the midst of an remarkably diverse human community. “Having our cake and eating it too” is a good cliché to assign the aspirations of many who make their way here. I know a little something about that in its religious garb. There are nearly 1,000 references to the word city in our Bible. Much of the Bible’s storyline concerns cities specifically or referentially. Think of Babel, Jericho, Babylon, Nineveh, Damascus and especially the city of David, Jerusalem. In the New Testament we learn how Paul spread the word of the good news of Jesus in cities like Rome and Corinth and Ephesus and Athens and Philippi. He goes to the central squares of urban areas and preaches amidst others competing for the hearts of those that have been drawn there for all the reasons people have always been drawn to cities. Though it may seem counter-intuitive for many contemporary Americans, Christianity may be best understood as an urban religion and Judaism before it. Indeed, the holiest religious locations and artifacts were always in the center of a city, close to the heart of commerce and political power, close to the heartbeat of human community. Our Bible ends in a trumpet blast with the coming from heaven of the New Jerusalem, the city of God. All of this leads me to the complex matter of the relationship of the church to the city today and the role of the church in the city. How should we think about it? I’m guessing that many urban dwellers who find their way here make sense of it as sanctuary from all the hubbub on the street, from the noise and congestion of their lives. I’ve well-learned that’s one of our important functions. That’s why we have our doors open nearly twelve hours most days. People flow in and out to sit and pray and light a candle and perhaps find spiritual connection. I like how our sparkling spiritual geode sits right on the street. Walking through the portal people are transported to a different sort of place. It’s a mystical experience for the spiritually alert, making those few steps from there to here. Some find their way here earnestly seeking after the things that really matter in lives that have otherwise been over-indulged with stuff that doesn’t sate their deepest hunger. You’ve heard me wonder of late if we aren’t situated at a strategic cultural moment given the economic convulsions in the capital city of finance, of all places! Though hammered by the economy aren’t we the bearers of a fresh opportunity for major re-evaluation of just what makes a life worthwhile? Isn’t our present moment pregnant with astonishing opportunity? Paul can be our model here, situated as we are in the heart of our city. We’ll make our case amidst the competing voices for everyone’s attention and allegiance. What does that case entail? What message shall we convey to those who stumble across the threshold to find their home in God’s house and offer up praise and gratitude in the city of cake and eating it too? Among others, we offer Micah’s words: “The voice of the Lord cries to the city…O mortal, what is good: and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.” Why address the city? Because of all the reasons we’ve spoken about, because it’s a powerful metaphor for the human community in all of its complexity. God is interested in the content of our lives more than the content of our words and posturings, the prophet proclaims. We offer Jesus’ words to the city, who, when confronted by a man who would entrap him explained what authentic love actually looked like, what it demanded. I remind you that we have the words of the great commandments emblazoned in our mosaics: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.” That’s our mission. And lest there be confusion about the proper definition of love, Jesus says, well, it’s like a man traveling from one city to another city who is fallen upon by thieves, beaten and left for dead. All the supposed good and righteous types can’t be bothered, but the despised “other”, the one who was deemed at the bottom of the heap and worthy of scorn extends loving hospitality to the injured man that costs him effort, time and money. That’s what love looks like in God’s city. It has the character of justice, kindness and humble partnering with God. It’s earthy, real, relevant and radical. I’m aware that across our land there remains some ambivalence towards the city. Non-city folks are often overwhelmed by it, afraid of crowds of diverse peoples, congested traffic, the unrelenting pace and can’t wait to leave it if ever they would step foot in it. And I’m aware that over past decades the church has been tempted to withdraw from the city to the safety of suburbia or other seemingly more idyllic environs. This has both geographical and theological components. The Christian faith has always had to resist the temptation to focus on some world other than this one, to flee the world we have. [1] But the city remains. It isn’t going anywhere. In fact, it seems once more on the advance. Here we sit at Park Avenue and 60th Street in one of the greatest cities of the world. What a gift! What an astonishing gift that together we can join together with persons from every corner of the world and all around town to pray for the city, to open our doors to the life of the city, to be advocates for justice and kindness for the city and to encourage one another in living lives of authentic love in the manner of Jesus who gave up his life, in part, for the sake of the city. Previous sermon: Grace Sufficient • Next sermon: Art and Spirit in the City All past sermons |
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