Babel

The tower of Babel in Genesis 11 reminds us that our diversity, in its humanness, can be confusing and painful, but it also reminds us where God can be found - as we try to understand and know each other more fully.

There are plenty of towers in New York City, a reminder perhaps that we can reach the skies when we work together (or apart). For me this fact as confusing as the diverse peoples who inhabit these towers – and indeed the fact of so many who don’t – because they can’t.

Sitting on floor 17 of one particular apartment, looking down, I don’t think that being in this particular tower brings me closer to God as some of the Babylonians might have hoped their tower did. In fact, if anything the further I am up this tower, the more there seems to be a barrier for me to connect with the people who seem so very far below me.

What connects us most fully to God is not trying to reach further and further to the sky - to create small gods of ourselves. Rather we find God when we really meet and encounter each other – at ground level, as equals. When we spend time together, when we look into the face of each other and listen.

Fr Steve Holton drew my attention to a passage in the Koran which resonates with this: ‘O mankind! We created you from male and female and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other (not that you may despise each other)’ (Sura Hujurat, verse 13). This really struck me – difference is created that we might know each other. Returning to the tower of Babel, what if God has created us to have different languages and dwell in different cultures and lifestyles, so that we might be different and so come together in order to know each other. What if by knowing each other – we are in fact brought into a deeper place to know God? Isn't this what the incarnation teaches us, as we spend time looking and living into the face of Christ?

We are changed by encountering difference – for better or worse. Within this we have the opportunity to know others and to know God far more deeply.

Diversity in the City

We have arrived in New York, the second of the three cities we plan to visit. Suddenly several things strike us about this city. Opening my mouth no one bats an eyelid. No longer do Americans ask either me or my 2 year old to say something in her ‘cute’ British accent, its nothing new. New York, like many major cities, is a melting pot of accents, nationalities, cultures and races. This diversity is amazing and beautiful – its one of the things that I love about being in a big city. But this diversity is also something that invites conflict. It is something that we as human beings always seem to struggle with and communicate well.

Living 2 mins walk from ground zero and the museums and memorials attributed to 9/11 is one huge reminder of groups of people who do not understand each other and the conflict that follows that. St Paul’s Chapel, part of Trinity Wall Street was meters away from the Twin Towers when they fell. The church acted as a ‘safe haven’ for 9/11 rescue workers, but its work continues after all the debris has gone. The chapel holds prayer for peace and reconciliation every day, a constant reminder that there is more work to be done, that conflict continues.

In our cities we deal with the diversity we find in different ways. There are plenty of congregations which seem to attract the same race or culture, class or interest group. There are other churches that pride themselves on their diversity and their ability to welcome difference, or to be inclusive in a particular way. Wherever we are on the continuum, the fact that diversity exists in our city will always bring conflict where there is no dialogue. If we do not work and pray for dialogue and peace we are negating our responsibility as peacemakers and creation builders – there really is no neutral that comes from doing nothing. In the days that follow I will be looking at and reflecting on some practical ways that churches are working with diversity in New York City.

Name-Calling

In the creation story there is a pattern in which God names things. In doing so God draws them into being. In Genesis 1 God names the light ‘Day’, and the darkness ‘Night’, God names the dome over the earth ‘Sky’, the dry land ‘Earth’ and the waters ‘Seas’ and so on. God names each of these things with individual names, and then he names them again – he calls them ‘Good’.

After creating Adam, God invites Adam to follow this pattern. In Genesis 2: 19-20 God brings to Adam the animals ‘to see what he would name them’ and then ‘whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name.’ Whatever Adam named things, that was its name. Bad luck for the hippopotamus.

Names are incredibly important to us, new parents spend ages thinking of what they can name their child, believing that in some way, this name will influence their future and their very being. We name and re-name things all the time, its helps us to understand who and what we are - and our cities are not immune to this.

Flint, the city in Michigan where we have been spending time this week is often given names. I mentioned that it is known to some as the most violent or most dangerous city in America (actually since February this name is now passed to Oakland in California… lucky for them). Other names given to Flint have included the most Illiterate City, or the city with the highest levels of arson. Detroit where we have spent the last couple of days has also earned these titles, and a few others; in 2013 it was named the most miserable city in America.

These names stay with us, and as we are called, so we become. For this reason it is so important for the Church to name hope in our cities. One of the episcopal churches we visited in one of Detroit’s poorest neighbourhoods is called ‘Spirit of Hope’. From this church and its with a small but growing congregation, an urban garden is tendered. From here the church with only a handful of volunteers and much less cash manages to give away six tons of food and 20,000 meals every year. In the spirit of the Heidelberg project members of the church are decorating old church pews and hymn boards with messages of hope for their community, placing them in public places. As part of this they are praying for their community and telling them about resurrection for all – naming hope for the here-and-now. This kind of hope whispers resurrection, whispers that a city is not dead in a tomb, Christ is risen for the all of us, and all of us are a part of sharing a hope filled resurrection life. Resurrection isn’t just for the shining cities and booming financial districts and fashion capitals, resurrection is for the derelict, the forgotten, the places that have been named the bad names.

One of my friends, Andrew, is working on a performance project with the Flint Youth Theatre. Its called “Flint, the most _________ city in America”, part of the project is allowing the community to fill in the blanks, to make their own name for themselves, based on the positive that they bring and not simply acknowledging the negative that they are labeled with. We need to stop 'name-calling' in the negative and start 'name-calling' our cities in the positive, we need to be honest about our problems but we also need to speak that truth in love and in the light of resurrection hope. So we are named so we create who and what we are.

Born makers

We are spending a few days in Detroit before driving to New York where we will meet more church and community workers involved in regeneration work in a different urban context. Detroit is in many ways a City which suffers from similar problems as Flint, but on a macro scale.

On our way here I was struck by the new Chrysler advertising campaign on the skyscraper between the two cities, visible from the freeway. The Chrysler building says ‘We are born makers’. In many ways there is a cruel irony about this – yes we are all makers but in cities like Flint and Detroit the opportunity to make, has been taken away from many people, the people in this tower might feel like makers... but there are people who down the road are surrounded by dereliction and destruction.

Yet its also a reminder that we are all makers, that for the residents of these cities, as much as they may feel like a few big factories would solve their problems, we all have an ability to create and make for ourselves.

I came across 1 Chronicles 22:15-16, where David commissions the building of the temple for the glory of the Lord. He says, 'Moreover, there are many workmen with you, stonecutters and masons of stone and carpenters, and all men who are skillful in every kind of work. "Of the gold, the silver and the bronze and the iron there is no limit. Arise and work, and may the LORD be with you."' This is a reminder of the potential that all of us have to create with the different skills we have and to work for the good for the city and for the glory of God. We all have skills, there is so much purpose to be found, but without finding this and without the opportunity to make and create, we are robbed of something which makes us human. 

It does not feel this simple for many of the people of these cities, to just 'go and create'. We are all born makers, but we are not all born equal. For some there are creative enterprises all over Detroit, people moving from Brooklyn to set up design companies, distilleries, bakeries, potteries, printers etc. as well as social enterprises. For others, particularly some of the poorer black communities who make up the majority of these cities, this can feel way out of reach. What is clear to me is that it is sometimes not enough that we are makers, we need to help each other to realise this economically, investing in each other, working collaboratively in a way that all thrive, not only the few. We have to make real the equality that we say we believe in.

In the Detroit Institute of Art there is a mural by Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. Done in the 1930s it shows the car industry that was booming in Detroit (and indeed Flint). Rivera paints hundreds and thousands of workers, depicting the potential and the glory of hard work of people of all races, in the field as well as in the factory. But exploring the mural further, we see that Rivera also points at the way in which the few can exploit this, putting others in danger. His message not only to Detroit, but to a capitalist world, is that when the workers thrive, all thrive, but where they are exploited, all of humanity suffers. We are all born makers, the question is how happy are we with the world we are making? Is everyone free to make and create? Or just some of us? Our cities seem to magnify the creative industry, for better or worse, so what is our response when we really listen to it?

8 Mile

Eminem reminded us that those closest to the city are often the worse off. In his film Eight Mile, the title refers to Eminem’s story of growing up only 8 miles from downtown Detroit, an area of high unemployment, depopulation, abandoned buildings, crime and fragmented families. James has already mentioned that as we drove from Detroit out to Flint, we saw that by each ‘mile road’ the houses got bigger, the abandoned buildings got fewer, graffiti lessened, cars increased, restaurants increased, grocery stores and gyms appeared. The problems that effect the city centres are not problems that many of the people who live further out in the suburbs have to live with. Many of these people drive in daily to run the governing systems and work in the offices. Both Flint and Detroit are big cities, too big in size to be supported financially in their infrastructure, and so a lot of the money stays in the suburbs. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer.

It challenges me to think about how we challenge the injustices that are not quite on our doorstep as well as the ones that are. In fact, how hard do we try to move our doorsteps further away from poverty and chaos altogether? There are plenty of churches in Flint and Detroit with people in doing great things, but are equally plenty of derelict churches. James 1:27 reminds us of our duty to look after those who can’t look after themselves, but also to keep ourselves “unstained” by the world. Do we think of keeping ourselves “unstained” by moving away from dirt, squalor and poverty, or by walking into it?

Urban Decay

This is way too much this video, and the music is pretty bad, but watch a few seconds, it does highlight some of the needs and the area in which we are staying.

Welcome to Flint

Over the next week we are in the town of Flint, 60 miles northwest of Detroit. You might have heard of the city from Michael Moore (from Flint himself) in his film Roger and Me. These postcards are a little reminder that in the 40s and 50s the city was booming. In the 80s the city sank into severe economic depression after years of deindustrialization. In the 2000s became known for high crime rates and ranked as amongst the most dangerous in the United States. Michigan placed the city it in a state of financial emergency in 2011. This kind of reputation never helps a city. One of the city's biggest problems seems to be not what you do see (e.g the media's urban porn style photography shoots ) but what you don't. That is the families and professionals that have left. The 'white flight' is a term used to describe large-scale migrations of white peoples from racially mixed urban inner city areas to racially homogeneous suburban or ex-urban areas. Those with money and jobs essentially have often left the city behind. Driving from Detroit airport out to Flint its clear that many of these people are still surviving and thriving, they just aren’t doing so inside the city gates.