By Molly T. Marshall
As a child, New York City seemed to be “the uttermost parts of the world.” Textbook pictures of the Empire State Building, Times Square, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty confirmed how important and busy a city it was. Grainy documentaries (it was the ’50s, after all) showed it to be full of immigrants, business tycoons, tickertape parades and big ships traversing the harbor. Our teachers would then comment how safe and secure we were in small town America, by contrast. We could be confident that the temptations of the “wicked city” were far from us.
Cities hold both promise and peril, perhaps in larger proportion because of the sheer density of population. Transportation, housing and livelihood present significant challenges in this tightly packed city. As one local NYC observer noted, “only the very poor or very rich can make it here — the poor because of subsidized housing; the rich because they can afford the over-the-top prices.”
Cities sharply reveal the competing claims humans face. A simple binary choice would be: will we worship what human ingenuity can construct or will we worship the living God? It is a challenge as old as the Tower of Babel story. Yet, it is far more complicated than that.
In the fifth century St. Augustine wrote The City of God, offering a vision of history as conflict between the “City of Man” and the “City of God.” Not only did he argue against blaming Christians for the sack of Rome, he wanted to illustrate how faithful people must live in both. One does not have to despise the city in order to love God.
Even earlier, the prophet Jeremiah enjoined the exiles, “Seek the welfare of the city.” The displaced were to count the new location as their own and strive to live at peace with others. They were to recognize that the divine presence remained with them even in the exilic experience and that God was granting a future with hope.
Seeking the welfare of the city is a very different enterprise than attempting to make the city Christian. The Puritans attempted such a project with the “City upon a Hill” in Massachusetts Bay, and it proved disastrous. Much better is the aim of Christians to “live, serve and be deeply involved in the lives of our largest cities,” in the words of Tim Keller, a pastor in New York City. He warns against the insularity of remaining in one’s own particular enclave.
During my week in this teeming city, I have had opportunity to witness the creativity of churches as they embrace their contexts with enthusiasm. The bunkered church does not thrive here — or anywhere, for that matter. More than seeking to survive, the churches I have visited are finding ways to make welcome their neighborhoods through imaginative ministries.
Judson Memorial Church, located for 117 years in the heart of Greenwich Village, understands its mission as “a gathering place for people who seek spiritual nurture to build public capacity for social change.” The church understands the centrality of the arts in this city and uses its facilities to foster dance, music and theatre. This congregation of about 150 persons makes an impact far beyond its presence at Washington Square because of its sensitivity to human longings for beauty and justice.
Another venerable congregation, St. John the Divine, located at a busy bus stop, understands how important the concept of sacred space remains in the frenzied pace of urban life. Not only does it keep its doors open as a place of rest and contemplation, but also regularly hosts art exhibits that are accessible to all. The longing for beauty and longing for God are closely intertwined, and many find their way into the cavernous structure built to the glory of God.
Metro Baptist Church finds a way to bring hope in Hell’s Kitchen. The variety of community ministries housed at Metro is aptly named after Rauschenbusch, early 20th-century pastor in that neighborhood. His emphasis on the social gospel, a holistic understanding of Christian witness and care, lives on in this small, but resourceful congregation.
I am deeply impressed with those God calls to serve in this largest of American cities. Pastoral leaders in the city open their hearts to those God is bringing their way, with all their resources, needs, demands and brokenness. Pews fill with the newly arrived, the storied generations, the cossetted and those on the edge. They continue to seek the welfare of the city, and God uses them to provide theological orientation, healing balm and reliable guidance. Effective ministry flows out of their love for their city.