Philadelphia [jay]

God moves in the city and speaks in the country. It’s a pretty common concept if you think of it from a story perspective. Moses was raised in high culture of Egypt, but did not hear God speak till alone in the wilderness somewhere. Jesus went to the cities to teach and interact, and retreated to the hills to hear from God. God made a garden for Adam and Eve, not a city. Paul spent three years on the backside of the Arabian Desert before planting churches in the cities of the Middle East and Greece. Abraham, Hagar, Jacob, Joseph, Deborah, Samson, David, Esther, John…the dichotomy of country and city is everywhere.

Country and city are more philosophical entities than they are geographical locations. Take for example, my favorite city, Philadelphia. Today, my wife and I traveled here from the country – Lebanon, Pennsylvania – to hang out and visit a friend. As is our custom, our semi-regular pilgrimage to the city of brotherly love begins with a trip to our Mecca of south Philly, Pat’s Steaks. For about ten bucks, one enjoys a culinary utopia of meat, onion, cheese, bread, and soda that is unparalleled in unhealth and unrivaled in unbelievability. I grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia about 45 minutes west of the city proper. I love south Philly, I’d love to live and raise my kids in south Philly, and something fun and raw comes alive in me when I am in south Philly. It’s a uniquely common place where I, a uniquely normal guy, feel a legitimate brotherhood with my uniquely salt-of-the-earth stranger brethren.

After our steaks and some shopping on South Street, we decided to check out a bookstore I knew of but had never frequented. Located on the University of Pennsylvania campus, on a block corner across from the Law School, it’s pretty unrivaled in unique selection and diversity of thought. Bookstores make sense to me. I’m at home with my hard and soft covered friends and look forward to making more of their printed acquaintance. But at this bookstore and in the place I am now – a Starbucks just down the block -- I feel weird. It’s not that I feel out of place, or that I don’t fit in, it’s that I just don’t get it. It is tight and uncomfortable with a pedal-to-the-metal kind of feel that is a bit warped (and I’m a pedal-to-the-metal kind of guy). Law students and consultants everywhere, all speaking in a legalese dialect birthed from a bitter mix of insecurity and fear-driven boldness, all for the purpose of God-only-know-what.

It’s enough to drive you crazy. Please tell me I’m not the only one going insane in this packed out coffeehouse.

Pat’s is the country.
This Starbucks is the city.

The Athenians said to Paul, “Let’s go to the Aeropagus to hear more.”
Today we say, “Let’s go to Starbucks to talk more.”

The guy at the table next to me is a law student who looks like the character Abed from that new comedy “Community”. He is trying to land a job with a firm in Chicago. He, and four law student colleagues get twenty minutes with a pretty, articulate law firm consultant hired by the prospective firm, and then another group of four or five students move in to interview for another twenty minutes. It’s like cattle lining up at the slaughterhouse. I assume she’s been slaughtering all day, maybe that’s why she’s so passive-aggressively angry. Anyway, Almost-Abed has already had a job with a firm in Philly and clearly has his sights set on continuing his promotions in Chicago. With an air of mustered courage, he just very authoritatively asked, “Now is that pre-acquisition or post-acquisition as you see it?” And followed it up with thoughts and questions about allocation managers, “SanFran”, intern recruitment strategies, the Boston office, and philosophical management theory. And there are about eight of these conversations with eight different consultants going on at the same time! (By the way, he finished his interview, and I just saw him walking out the first floor doors saying to his buddy that if he lands this job, he’s definitely “getting some of that” once he gets to Chi-town).

Philly is all city -- but for me, south Philly is the country in the city. And every country spot has its city portal where the sun stands still longer than it should and important spiritual, family, personal and communal battles can be won.

The city portal is the place where the voice we hear in the country becomes the voice we speak in the city. Problem is, we mistakenly think it’s our call to produce the voice, when in reality it is our calling to hear the voice. Our calling (calling must be heard) to hear (more listening that takes us back to calling that must be heard) the voice (not our voice, but the Voice that we listen to in order to hear our calling).

The question is not, what do I think?
The question is: what do I hear?
And, what are you hearing?
And, why are we hearing the same voice but not understanding one another?
And, where the hell (or heaven) is that voice coming from?

People think that God speaks in a still, small voice. Well, he certainly did to Elijah, but in other places His voice roars like thunder and shakes mountains. To Balaam, he spoke through a donkey, to Hannah he spoke through a priest, and to Moses he spoke directly like a friend speaks to a friend. The voice of the Lord makes high places low and low places high. It calms the seas, creates the universe, calls the disciples, and cradles the children. When God speaks, all the earth is silent before Him. To be still and know He is God is not an imperative, it is an invitation…an invitation to hear…indeed, to listen.

Listening in the city is not very different from listening in the country. Because the Speaker is one who never changes, the words are not any more or less difficult to receive. The question is: do we have ears to hear? That is the invitation after all – “Let the one who has ears to hear, hear what the Spirit says….” It is a call to listen, to receive, to abide, to rest, to be fulfilled, to be whole.

It is an invitation to shalom.

The Hebrew notion of “shalom” is bigger than peace. Peace is a part of shalom, but it is not shalom. Shalom is wholeness, shalom is solitude and silence. Shalom is harmony, love, rest and beauty.

Wholeness in shalom is all the pieces of One.
Solitude in shalom is presence of One.
Silence in shalom is voice of One.
Harmony in shalom is orchestra of One.
Love in shalom is desire of One.
Rest in shalom is arms of One.
Beauty in shalom is sight of One.

When God says he rested on the seventh day; that was shalom. God’s voice was still as He took His newly created universe and His image-bearers to His higher place – shalom -- and they knew God. His voice did not need to speak, for what needed to be said? God was there, all creation was whole, love was perfect…there was rest.

In Egypt, God’s people were in slavery. When God granted freedom, His heart for them was His rest…their rest…His land…their land. The theme of the conquest book of Joshua is that of rest, not war. The purpose of obedience to the voice of the Lord they received in the wilderness (the country) was to redeem the land of Israel (the cities) so that the land may have rest. But God’s people kept getting more and more noisy. Instead of listening, they kept talking; instead of following, they wanted their own way.

“We’re bored with manna!”
“This water is bitter!”
“We want meat!”
“Make us a golden calf!”
“We will obey, we promise!”
“We won’t obey, forget you!”
“We’re tired of walking!”
“We’re tired of fighting!”
“Moses is amazing!”
“Moses is a chump!”
“Joshua is amazing!”
“Joshua is a chump!”
“Let’s just take the cities we want!”
“Give us a king!”
“Why are we in captivity?!”

Consequently, there was no rest for the land. The land was embittered and angry, the people became selfish and idolatrous and the land was divided and destroyed. A land flowing with milk and honey became a land flowing with blood and pain.

When the Son of God came to earth, He came offering His people their destiny: His Kingship, full and free – all their greatest dreams come true. A return to the seventh day. Shalom.

And they refused. They refused because they heard, but they didn’t listen. They looked, but they didn’t see. They wanted bread, but not Bread of Life. They wanted healing for their bodies, but not healing for their souls. They wanted a king with simple power, not a King with true power. Their love of One voice was polluted with the noise of other voices and before long, they couldn’t hear at all anymore. Their country and city collided and had a bastard child named Striving.

And there was no rest for their souls.

Philadelphia has no rest for its soul. Nor do the people at Pat’s or Almost-Abed. For that matter, neither do I. But I do believe in a frequency of redemption and grace to which we can all be tuned. But the frequency will be neither utilitarian nor pragmatic. It is the Voice of One who alone can speak the wholeness and rest our spirits crave. But it is only heard by those with ears to hear.