As a relatively new resident to San Francisco, I still have that 'outsider's eye' that hasn't grown accustomed to the extraordinary sights, sounds and diversity that make this "The City". I invite you to journey with me on a typical day, to celebrate what I discovered along the way in this extraordinary place.
My day started with a monthly Christian men's breakfast on the top floor of the Bank of America building. Its one of the few views you can have in SF that dwarfs the Transamerica Pyramid. This gathering of men, many of whom hold powerful positions in the Financial District, which sits far below us this morning, provides insights into the 'humanity' behind the 'office' someone holds. The keynote speakers generally share about their impressive vocations, but what gives it all a specialness, is how they blend in their spiritual journey as well. Though we're seated at the 'pinnacle of power', the reality of the uncertainties of life and afterlife are as real here as for those scurrying on the streets below.
To the streets, then, and over to the Urban House. I've taken to walking the relatively short distance from my Mission Dolores neighborhood to Lyon & Fell Streets, the site of the San Francisco Urban Program of Westmont College. San Francisco is an accessible city. Only 7 x 7 miles square, the city is far better accessed through walking or public transportation, especially since parking here is a maddening enterprise. The slower pace of walking, though, feels right in this place where, from its very foundation, the emphasis on the beauty of the homes here, and their interplay with green space, competed favorably with the boom of people wishing to call this "home". Though crowded to some, San Francisco's density is broken by its many parks, well outfitted with public spaces for people to dwell, and be, well, gratified Urbanites; aiding our celebration of living here.
Mission Dolores if the first landmark I pass, the site where this city began in the 18th century. To look around at the grid of streets filled with homes, shops and churches, its hard to imagine the Jesuits trying to eek out an existence on this windy/foggy end of the peninsula filled with rolling hills and sparse trees. The native peoples must have thought it a bit strange to settle here. They made it a practice to move around the area, to take advantage of what today's locals like to call "micro-climates". Witnessing the building of a mission (whatever they thought that might be at first) in one place here, must have challenged their view of the wisdom of those first white settlers. Today the tour buses are in, taking pilgrims through reproductions of that first settlement, made important only because we are descendants of those who brought disease and bondage to the original inhabitants. We celebrate our 'beginnings', while they had to suffer their 'end' in this Bay Area. History is often written by those who survive contact with those who are very different then they. Perhaps a better assessment of the value would be to hear from those we impacted by our arrival.
Its to "The Castro" next. I'm a bit north of 18th St. and Castro, dubbed "the gayest four corners in America". Its so-called since it represents a 'center' for the gay and lesbian community that seems to thrive in this city as in few others. Its one of the cleanest and trendiest sections of town, where art and cuisine and, even holidays such as Halloween, are celebrated more vigorously than anyplace I've ever been.
Rainbow flags fly everywhere, and people feel free to express themselves as they wish, without recrimination. Advertisements here are unlike most places. In the bus shelter there is a large poster advertising a gay on-line dating service. The Community Bulletin Board, just west of Castro, on 18th, is filled with messages for those who wish to connect, along with several offers of service for those who are concerned about HIV/AIDS. Openness takes many forms and creates unique challenges in this community.
There are lessons about love and engagement to be learned, and relationships seeking understanding to be created, particularly by those who follow Jesus. These days, a Christian needs to reflect first, comment later. Many in this community have been alienated from Jesus because of the condemnation of those who claim allegience to his Way. Its sobering to remember that most of those who ever met Jesus, somehow did not have those same feelings of judgment afterwards. I'd like all to likewise feel positively touched, to see that same Jesus, after contact with this Christan traveler.
Up and over several hills and I'm passing by Buena Vista Park. As I crest the hill I can look east and see the skyline, the Bay Bridge (this morning filled with commuter traffic), the Bay and the hills above Oakland. Looking north, just ahead of me, peeking above the steeples and high rises, are the red towers of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Marin headland hills. Sunny to my right, a touch of fog through the Golden Gate in front of me; a grand morning.
The homes here are spacious, Victorian, and wickedly expensive. Few have been converted, as have most large homes in the City, into multi-family dwellings. These have an aura of status and control, looming, as they do, above the 'din' below. They stand more as a bulwark against their surroundings than a beacon of hope or aspiration. I am verbally greeted almost everywhere else on my walk. Yet here, the glances are brief, either a nod of acknowledgement or a quick assessment of risk. There must be a lot to lose here that cause people to hold on and hold back so tightly. The back side of the hill takes me down to The Haight, and a very different world.
Here's the place I feel old. In speaking to students in our Program, I talk about the "Summer of Love", the Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin and I get...blank stares! OK, that was 40 years ago- my childhood. Yet it was also a defining moment for our culture. Much of our music, our now institutionalized rights and sensitivities, were founded right here. 'Grass-roots' has several meanings in this place, but the sense of returning power to the people was never so catalytic and energized as in Haight-Ashbury. This area of this City represented great hopes for many disenfranchised young people and minorities in its day, and was the center for scorn and derision by the powerful in the 'military-industrial complex'. It might well be that the polarization of our nation into "Red" and "Blue" States may have originated right here.
How different is it today than those bygone 'Nixon'years? Our nation is involved in a war we cannot extricate ourselves from, and which seems ill-advised from the start. Young people roam the streets, like the one I passed a moment ago, lighting up their weed and seeking answers in escape since reality 'bites'. Homelessness is apparent throughout the area, even more so on a sunny day like today. If I were to say, "the rich get richer and the poor...(well, you know the rest)", I could be saying it in 1967 or 2007. Where is the change we all so desperately desired?
Yet, there remains hope. Neighborhood action groups seem more strident here than anywhere I've ever been. Non-profits, caring for marginalized peoples, preserving dignity for the poor and indigent, are abundant here. Many homeless persons come here particularly because they know they will be cared for and not harassed. Churches engage in far more 'show than tell' activities, hoping that the Gospel will be understood, not as a pointed condemning finger, but as an open helping hand. I can live in such a place.
On the other side of The Panhandle, I arrive at Westmont's gateway to the City. The 1898 era "Clunie House" (the name coming from its first family) is not a site of refuge, but an opportunity to see, grow and mature in this vibrant mecca of ideas, hopes and needs. This is a place where students from Santa Barbara, and other College towns located 'safely' in suburbia, come to get an experience in their vocation. In actual fact, many get a degree in real life. After a semester here, many students realize the heart and soul of the message of Jesus relates to those who are truly needy, whether in material, mental or spiritual ways. They come to see themselves as needy also, needy to shed their self-sufficiency, their prejudice, their privilege. They find a City often engaged in the methods of the Master, though not able or willing to use the Master's name (because of what has been done in that name before).
They find a post-Christian city, one that challenges them to truly decide what it is they believe. How does that mental assent relates to the activity of their life and the challenges life itself poses to many around them? How best can they get in touch with and communicate their values in ways stripped of discredited institutionalized promises, but filled with hope borne of the Spirit? If those students leave this place with more questions than answers, we have done our job- or at least the City has worked its magic. In the face of all that is here, it is certainty in one's own 'positions' that truly seems the enemy of true faith. The City helps to revive the very need for faith, and hope, in a God who can sort it all out. This place calls for reflection on the fact that it is in self-sacrifice, like that of Jesus, which best heals wounds and creates understanding. That's what defines his followers as 'disciples'.
I've arrived at my destination for today, but the journey goes on. I see why all the great Christian leaders of the first century traveled as they ministered. They didn't want to miss experiencing the people, the inequities, the hopes and dreams, the waste, that confronted them personally and daily. It brings a whole new dimension to what we formerly talked about in asking how a person's 'walk' was with God? How would we have known, when we always drove past God's people?
Come to San Francisco- let's walk together- you, me and God. What a long, strange trip it is.
ScottMcClelland
Director, SF Urban.
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