I recently entered my third decade of life here on this planet. I am not sure
how I feel about this yet but I imagine I
will get used to it. One thing is for sure though, celebrating it in style on a Chicago vacation certainly helped ease the transition!
Honestly, I have never seen anything quite like Chicago. It is by far the biggest city I have ever visited. It is so vast and so loud. There is always a dull hum of commotion, like a dull roar of people and cars broken up by the periodic wailing of emergency sirens. The cacophony is deafening and the amount of people walking by you on the street is overwhelming. Good gracious, I have never seen so many people in all my life. Heck, even the sky was busy. Looking up at the plethora
of skyscrapers surrounding me, I felt like a small ant navigating a complex parade of enormous
metal giants. Basically, the city engulfs you. It's like you are in the heart of a great beast. There is no where you can look that does not remind you that you are in the middle of an entirely different, urban culture.
After a couple days of this, I was getting a little frazzled. I did enjoy many of the cosmopolitan experiences (Wrigley Field baby!) but since I am an introvert, I relished the quiet time I spent sitting with my wife in a coffeeshop at the foot of the Willis Tower. It is a fascinating vantage point from which to watch the city function. I saw men in expensive three piece suits darting around like hummingbirds, talking on bluetooth headsets and arguing about trade deals with distant countries. Then there were the large groups of tourists in bright, comfortable clothes, gawking at the Willis Tower and snapping pictures every couple feet. And, of course, there were the homeless who resigned themselves to shaking their change cups to get your attention. They hardly said a word, they just shook their cups as if that was all the explanation needed to garner a donation. As I sat there, all these people went about their business. Each had their own goals and lives in mind and were undoubtedly unaware that I was watching them. Some of them even seemed oblivious that they were walking around some of the biggest structures on earth, it was just a normal day for them.
As I sat there, I began feeling something that I am just now able to articulate. Looking at the Willis Tower, I began hearing the story of the Tower of Babel from Genesis 11 run through my brain. I am not sure why this happened as there seemed to be very little in common with that story and what I was seeing around me. In the story, the people of Earth unite to construct a large tower in the hopes that it would make them famous and prevent them from being scattered across the planet. However, their efforts attract the attention of God, who is unhappy with the people's hubris and decides to confuse their language so the project could not continue. In doing so, God shows humans the error behind excessive pride. It causes us to overly focus on our own issues and wants while isolating us from the needs of those around us. In the case of Babel, the people had taken this to an extreme. They were building a prideful monument to themselves, to call attention to their own abilities and achievements, instead of giving glory to God who's creation and influence allowed them to do such a feat.
It seems the lesson of Babel did not stick too well, because Chicago is filled with such towers. Most large cities have them nowadays. The Willis Tower is a prime example, it was built to be the largest in the world and draw attention to human achievement. It dominates the skyline and inherently draws attention to toward itself. I think this inward focus has also affected the city's inhabitants. Throughout the trip, I saw many, many people walking with their heads down, totally immersed in cellphones, Mp3 players and their own lives. They road the elevated trains in silence, not daring to talk to their neighbor. They worked silently in cafes, looking up only to make sure they weren't in someone's way. It was like people had become their own Towers of Babel, monuments to the separateness and importance of their own lives.Granted, my wife and I weren't speaking many people either, which is why I had such a great epiphany in the coffeeshop. I was feeling isolated, which is a bizarre concept in a city of millions. I had passed thousands of faces and hardly said hello. In fact, I vividly remember the only person we did talk to. It was outside Wrigley Field as the person taking our picture decided to introduce herself. Her name was Sarah and she was from Minnesota. She was also a tourist and had come to see the legendary ballpark. Our conversation didn't go much beyond that, but it made her stand out. She became a person amongst the throngs. We made a few other contacts while we were there, but that one will always stand out in my mind because of how it broke the seclusion.
Of course, I am unfairly describing Chicago in all this. There is no doubt my opinions are skewed by my experiences in smaller, more community oriented towns. Chicago is a fantastic place, but I think it's size makes humanities inherent prideful tendencies much more visible. That trait extends far beyond Chicago. It is everywhere and in everyone, and is always calling us to build our own Babel-esque towers. This isolating effect is what the church must always combat. It must help us walk the line between the individual and group identity toget us to a point of balance where we can look away from our selves to needs to others. If we do this, we can honor everyone and see that a tower is never the answer. What is important is that we use our resources for the good of all; that we build a structure where all can live with ample room for God and neighbor. It can happen in Chicago, or anywhere for that matter. So why not here? And why not now?
As I sat there, I began feeling something that I am just now able to articulate. Looking at the Willis Tower, I began hearing the story of the Tower of Babel from Genesis 11 run through my brain. I am not sure why this happened as there seemed to be very little in common with that story and what I was seeing around me. In the story, the people of Earth unite to construct a large tower in the hopes that it would make them famous and prevent them from being scattered across the planet. However, their efforts attract the attention of God, who is unhappy with the people's hubris and decides to confuse their language so the project could not continue. In doing so, God shows humans the error behind excessive pride. It causes us to overly focus on our own issues and wants while isolating us from the needs of those around us. In the case of Babel, the people had taken this to an extreme. They were building a prideful monument to themselves, to call attention to their own abilities and achievements, instead of giving glory to God who's creation and influence allowed them to do such a feat.
It seems the lesson of Babel did not stick too well, because Chicago is filled with such towers. Most large cities have them nowadays. The Willis Tower is a prime example, it was built to be the largest in the world and draw attention to human achievement. It dominates the skyline and inherently draws attention to toward itself. I think this inward focus has also affected the city's inhabitants. Throughout the trip, I saw many, many people walking with their heads down, totally immersed in cellphones, Mp3 players and their own lives. They road the elevated trains in silence, not daring to talk to their neighbor. They worked silently in cafes, looking up only to make sure they weren't in someone's way. It was like people had become their own Towers of Babel, monuments to the separateness and importance of their own lives.Granted, my wife and I weren't speaking many people either, which is why I had such a great epiphany in the coffeeshop. I was feeling isolated, which is a bizarre concept in a city of millions. I had passed thousands of faces and hardly said hello. In fact, I vividly remember the only person we did talk to. It was outside Wrigley Field as the person taking our picture decided to introduce herself. Her name was Sarah and she was from Minnesota. She was also a tourist and had come to see the legendary ballpark. Our conversation didn't go much beyond that, but it made her stand out. She became a person amongst the throngs. We made a few other contacts while we were there, but that one will always stand out in my mind because of how it broke the seclusion.
Of course, I am unfairly describing Chicago in all this. There is no doubt my opinions are skewed by my experiences in smaller, more community oriented towns. Chicago is a fantastic place, but I think it's size makes humanities inherent prideful tendencies much more visible. That trait extends far beyond Chicago. It is everywhere and in everyone, and is always calling us to build our own Babel-esque towers. This isolating effect is what the church must always combat. It must help us walk the line between the individual and group identity toget us to a point of balance where we can look away from our selves to needs to others. If we do this, we can honor everyone and see that a tower is never the answer. What is important is that we use our resources for the good of all; that we build a structure where all can live with ample room for God and neighbor. It can happen in Chicago, or anywhere for that matter. So why not here? And why not now?
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