I renamed this blog “Resurrecting Chicago” sometime ago and I’ll bet you are wondering what that theme means since what I write about often has nothing to do with Chicago. No, I don’t write about Chicago rising from the ashes as it did after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and with such spirit and power that it hosted a World’s Fair in 1893, one generation later. I sure don’t mean the on-going death and resurrection of apartment complexes, old factory and railroad sites which is going on right now in the “City by the Lake.” No, I mean that in my small way I am trying to live a new life in Christ in and around my city so that Chicago experiences something of Christ.
I am a faithful follower of the spirit of the Resurrection. If I live bringing life and love in my tiny existence then Chicago is better. If many of us live that way Chicago becomes renewed. There are a lot of us around the big city.
There is a wonderful book called “If Christ came to Chicago” by William Stead who wrote about my city after he visited the World’s Fair of 1893. He reported on the magnificence of the Fair but also examined the city itself. He came up with a searing critique of Chicago’s politicians and churches who gloried in the success of the World’s Fair but didn’t do much for workers and their families. In 1893, the United States was in a depression the likes of which had not been seen before and would not be seen again until the Great Depression. People were hungry, cold and without the necessities of life. What kind of city could host a colossal carnival and exhibition for visitors from the outside world and at the same time neglect its poor?
You know where Christ would be if he came to Chicago? According to Stead, Jesus would be talking with the poor in the neighborhood taverns. Stead found that in the neighborhood taverns, it was the bar-keeps, not the churches –much less the politicians– who fed the poor everyday. They offered soup and sandwiches to the hungry and sometimes shelter.
In 1893 and for some time after WWII, taverns were everywhere in Chicago’s neighborhoods, sometimes two or three in one block. People gathered in these centers to drink and socialize. Bartenders were usually the owners and they knew the people who came in everyday. They cashed their pay checks, or kept their tabs. They notified family members when a patron had just a little too much. They were their neighbors not only their customers. I remember as an eight-year old going into local bars — the doors were propped wide open in the Summer– to shine shoes. My dad and mom were not there but lots of folks from the neighborhood were. It was there in the taverns that we listened to one another, laughed and teased one another. We even sang together and always looked out for one another.
Somehow these experiences have remained with me and have become part of my Chicago heritage. No, I would not be surprised to see the Gallilean in earnest conversation with some guy from the neighborhood while nursing a brew. Unless I’m reading the gospel incorrectly, He always seems to show up around tax-collectors, poor residents, and all those who were in one way or another, screwed-up.
That’s why I’ve named this blog “Resurrecting Chicago.” I’ve done it out of love for the city which still means the world to me.