In keeping with the urban theory reading self-guided reading course I'm doing, I thought I'd take a brief sidestep here for a bit of theological take on the topic. It is Sunday after all...

A few years back I read a book on the theology of the built environment by T.J. Gorringe. It's worth noting that my interest in urbanism in large part came from my mdiv where I was taught to see theology as a contextual project, not something that just exists outside of time and space. Not only that, but my professor (and the founder of the particular program I took, Donald Goertz, always said that the bible was primarily urban in nature. Anyways, as a part of one of my directed reading courses, I read this particular book and I thought it might be nice to just share a thought from it today that also builds off Mumford's work on the origin of cities.

Gorringe here is riffing off Mumford and considering how cities do or do not participate in the economy of redemption, that is, creating something that lasts for the betterment of the world.

"If Mumford is right, the Hellenistic city effectively built to celebrate its own achievements, as did Imperial Rome. This ought to be a warning to us, for today we wander about in their ruins. For what gave a new lease of life to Rome was Christianity without which, at several points in the past two millennia, it would probably not have survived. Cities necessarily have markets; they are centres of the arts and of innovation. But without a creative spirituality, a sense of transcendent purpose, they die."

I've always kind of liked the idea that cities have a soul, so to speak, and like people, that soul can be nurtured or starved. I think this puts it in an interesting framing, calling it a transcendent purpose. Going back a few days to what I was reflecting on with Mumford in the way that cities began as spaces for ritual and memory, I think it's interesting to consider what gives a city that spark. We sort of intuitively know when we visit a city that has it. It feels alive and exciting. It might also be why suburban sprawl can feel so soulless, they lack a transcendent purpose.

"Simple awareness is the seed of responsibility." — Jenny Odell

Walking is one of the best ways to build a relationship with where you live; but it requires paying attention. The more you walk through your community with a sense of attentive awareness, the more you begin to notice. This is an important step for feeling a sense of responsibility towards it. By slowing down and noticing, you begin to see your city from a different angle. And this can make you a better neighbour.

Rather than getting caught up in internet debates or social media's shallow form of social justice, attune yourself to what's going on in your own neighbourhood. Who is it designed for? Who is being excluded? Where are resources going and why? Who benefits from the way things are designed, and who is paying the price for it?

Did you know that our brains miss about 50% of what's happening in our peripheral vision when we're moving in a vehicle? Cars are a terrible way to really get a sense of how a community is designed. To truly get to know where you live, you gotta take a walk.

'Walkability' can be a bit of a moving target.

On the one hand, my community ranks near the bottom of Ontario cities walkability scores (13/100). On the other, I've always been okay walking further than what most people would consider convenient. I think anything under 3km is a completely reasonable distance to walk to something. That said, I'm relatively healthy and able bodied. I'm not pushing a stroller and my kids are old enough to ride their own bikes. So my version of walkable is certainly not applicable to everyone.

This is where I find something like Jeff Speck's theory of walkability helpful. Rather than focus on distance, he points to four key conditions: a walk should be useful, safe, comfortable, and interesting. Importantly, these conditions should be able to be felt by everyone, regardless of age, need, or ability. Imagine if cities began with this sort of mandate for planning. Instead of walking being an afterthought or given the bare minimum of attention, let's make it the starting point for how we think about movement in our cities.

After all, it's not only good for our health and wellbeing, it's also directly related to increased property values and attracting and retaining young families.

"Urban ugliness is often a by-product of municipal structures and utilities that were built with function, not people, in mind."

— Janette Sadik-Khan, Street Fight.

It's wild to me how radicalized I have become around the concept of what a street can be.

For a long time, this was not something I ever thought about. I just assumed the way streets were designed was the only way the could be. I barely questioned it because it served my primary purpose, getting me around efficiently in my car. At some point in my late twenties, something changed. I think I just got tired of driving everywhere. I found being behind the wheel of a car stressful and so I decided to try other ways of getting around. The more I walked and tried out the different transit options, the more attuned I became to how poorly designed it all was for anyone who wasn't in a car.

I believe if you want to understand where you live, you have to walk it. You have to experience what movement through your community is like when you're not in a car. Pay attention to how safe or unsafe you feel in certain areas. How easy is it to get from one place to another?

Something I'm now beginning to pay more attention to is how space is allocated and recognizing that it doesn't have to be this way.

Yesterday I wrote that the church is a political structure. Today I'd like to dwell on that idea a bit more in conversation with another writer, William Stringfellow, a lawyer and theologian working in America in the mid 20th C.

In an essay titled, The Orthodoxy of Radical Involvement, he writes,

"There is no such thing as neutrality about any public issue... Every citizen and every institution is involved in one way or another, either by intention or default. Those who suppose they can withdraw only deceive themselves, because deliberate abstinence or asserted neutrality are themselves forms of involvement in politics."

The Church, as a part of society, has a responsibility to confront the social issues of its day. Attempts to stay out of them are still, as Stringfellow notes, a form of involvement. This why there is no such thing as being apolitical.

In another essay, Poverty, Property, and People, he writes,

“The beginning of conscience, in a Christian sense, is realizing that every action or omission, even those which seem routine and trivial, is consequentially related to the lives of all other human beings on the face of the earth.”

Politics gets at this interconnection of all things and what it means to try and form a shared life together. As an institution, the church is gathering people and forming them with values and purpose that will play a role in forging their relationship to the world around them. These things have political consequences—whether we recognize it or not.