How we get ‘from garden to city’

“Urbs in Horto,” is more than just our city’s motto, it’s a calling.

It doesn’t simply describe our blend of tranquil green expanses with stunning skyscrapers and bungalows, it prescribes an ambitious vision: to become a “city in a garden.”

At first glance, Chicago’s motto seems readily attainable—protect the existing parks, turn abandoned lots into community gardens, plant more trees. Yet, below the surface lies a tension between two mindsets not easily reconciled, between ‘garden life’ and ‘city life.’

Deep in our hearts a question arises: Is our goal to dwell in a garden, or to be a city in a garden? Should we strive merely for peaceful solitude, or for something more?

I understand the appeal of garden life –– big open spaces, aromatic flowers, no traffic, no noise.

But I’m a city person. I was born in Greece’s “second city,” Thessalonika, grew up in the Bronx, studied in Boston and served as a priest in New York before being elected recently as the presiding bishop for the Greek Orthodox Metropolis of Chicago.

More importantly, though, I believe that ‘city life,’ understood in an authentic and robust sense, is our true calling.

The fact that the Bible begins with a garden (Genesis 1-2) and ends with a city (Revelation 21-22) tells us something important. The garden is good—even paradise-like; it’s an appropriate starting point. Yet the end, the destination, the ultimate goal, is not to live in a garden, it is to be a city. Urbs in Horto.

Saying this is not a blanket endorsement of all existing cities; it is an affirmation of the communal purpose of human existence. We are meant to come together and made for life shared with others; for justice; for what Dr. Martin Luther King called “the beloved community.”

As an Orthodox Christian, I base this in part on the conviction that God is a Trinity, a perfect communion of three divine persons united in one divine nature, and on the belief that human beings are both created in the image of a communal God (cf. Genesis 1:26) and invited to live as a unity of distinct persons, as an inclusive communion of respect and love.

In this sense, we’re all made for ‘city life.’ Yet, there is a strong desire among some to flee from the city –– to deny the calling to “be a city” in the way described above.

The Greek Orthodox Christians in my care, and I with them, face a double temptation. On the one hand is the appeal of “garden life.” The pull to move an urban parish to a new location in the far suburbs, for example, may arise from the belief that getting out of “the city” permanently will make for a better spiritual life.

On the other hand is the temptation to stay in the city but to divide it into “good” and “bad” neighborhoods, “safe” and “unsafe” streets, and — even — residents “worthy” and “unworthy” of attention and embrace. The temptation is to love parts of the city and some of its people and to reject, avoid or abandon others.

When warnings about nightmarish urban violence, corruption, and divisions dominate headlines, and when we hear Chicago described as a ‘war zone’ by some civic leaders and a ‘total disaster’ by others, the pull to either leave or compartmentalize the city –– and our fellow residents –– can be strong. We must, however, resist it.

How? There are many good answers. But perhaps a place to start is with an open hand of friendship extended to someone beyond our social circle, beyond our comfort zone. Each of us can become a friend to an unknown neighbor by starting with a smile of acknowledgement, by recognizing in their unique face someone created in the image of God, someone with whom God has invited us to share city life.

The faith community I lead needs to continue improving on this. For regardless of our zip code, our calling is to be city people in the deepest sense, pursuing justice not simply peace. In fact, our high calling goes even further: to integrate the renewing beauty and quiet of gardens into our life as city people pursuing justice.

Perhaps this is the true meaning of “Urbs in Horto.” It’s a calling that won’t be fully reached on earth, but whose pursuit inescapably begins here and now, in our local neighborhoods, and with all our neighbors.

Metropolitan Nathanael Symeonides presides over the Greek Orthodox Church in the Midwest, which is composed of Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin as well as northern Indiana and southeastern Missouri.