Chicago, Kalamazoo (MI), and New York City: 09-17/May/2007Intersection of sacred and secular spaces
Perhaps I really need more time so as to appreciate the beauty and the character of New York, one of the most legendary cities in the world. Before my trip, almost everybody I talked to told me that 'it's an amazing city', 'everything is happening in that city', or 'you will definitely love it'.
Yes, it is amazing, and indeed everything seems to be possible there, but, it is impressive in a very imposing way, at least, to me. Perhaps I have been too relaxed in the Old York, so that New York is too fast, too loud , and too busy.
The rapid rhythm and loud melody of New York City is driving every passenger forward, and further forward, mercilessly. However, this ever-faster movement from one block to another, from one street to another, from one metro station to another, is curiously slowed down every now and then by parish churches or cathedrals which are resting on some block corners.
I didn't expect to find so many sacred spaces in this 'very' secular place. By saying that it is a 'very secular' city, I mean, this is a city that seems to allow every kind of human material desire to be pushed to an extreme: most people are here or come here with a hope that their desire will be answered.
Trinity Church stands right at the intersection of Broadway and Wall Street: its soaring pinnacles counter-balance the skyscraper in their close confrontation. St. Paul's chapel is facing Ground Zero, echoing a solemn memory of loss.
St. Bartholomew's church sits right on Fifth Avenue with comfort and ease among an endless flow of traffic and man.
It was around noon when we arrived. The staircase that leads to the entrance of St. Bart's was taken up by people who snatched themselves away from half day's work. Some of them were chatting, some talking on the phone, some eating lunch, some reading, resting, watching Fifth Avenue, or just idling. The stairs between the busiest and the most lavish street in the world and the church yield a liminal space between the secular and the sacred, between excitement and tranquility, between real work and real rest, between sound and silence. Perhaps, for some people, it is also a boundless small area in which the soul and the body are granted a chance to encounter.
My entering into St. Bart's after a long walk in the stinging sunlight transformed my curiosity and surprise at the discovery of these quiet religious presences into an appreciation. Grateful to their steady and silent company.
On my travel map, they look just like scattered stars anchoring the city in an irresistible material flood.
Trinity Church stands right at the intersection of Broadway and Wall Street: its soaring pinnacles counter-balance the skyscraper in their close confrontation. St. Paul's chapel is facing Ground Zero, echoing a solemn memory of loss.
St. Bartholomew's church sits right on Fifth Avenue with comfort and ease among an endless flow of traffic and man.
It was around noon when we arrived. The staircase that leads to the entrance of St. Bart's was taken up by people who snatched themselves away from half day's work. Some of them were chatting, some talking on the phone, some eating lunch, some reading, resting, watching Fifth Avenue, or just idling. The stairs between the busiest and the most lavish street in the world and the church yield a liminal space between the secular and the sacred, between excitement and tranquility, between real work and real rest, between sound and silence. Perhaps, for some people, it is also a boundless small area in which the soul and the body are granted a chance to encounter.
My entering into St. Bart's after a long walk in the stinging sunlight transformed my curiosity and surprise at the discovery of these quiet religious presences into an appreciation. Grateful to their steady and silent company.
On my travel map, they look just like scattered stars anchoring the city in an irresistible material flood.
Fifth Avenue is behind the gate and the window.
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