I live in an ugly neighborhood, where drug addicts thrive and
violence prevails. In that place I constantly hear sounds. It is a place where sirens are
constant and laments are loud. It is place where screams drown out the sound of
children's laughter. Many of the sounds seem to be conflicting, but this place
has managed to pull the sounds of hell and the bells of hope together in an
ambivalent symphony.
It is in this ugly place that pretty
moments begin. I see mothers grasping small hands and escorting them through
ugly streets. I see church goers walk into a pretty sanctuary and return to an
ugly reality. I see workers leave their ugly homes and travel on ugly buses in
an attempt to make pretty money. What I see seems to blur my vision yet, I have
some sense of conflicted clarity.
On last night this neighborhood proved
true to its character as I heard the sounds of hell and bells of hope. I saw
danger and safety in the same sense of conflicted clarity. On last night I
heard gunshots. These shots struck me with fear. I went through the process of
the "urban fire drill" and lay on the floor of my apartment, in fear
and disgust.I arose to view the carnage and called nearby neighbors. When the shooting stopped, I heard a strangely comforting sound.
Only seconds after the gunshots the church bell rang out.
What does it mean that only seconds after
I heard shots that caused great fear, I heard a bell that inspired hope? Was
this some sick divine prank? What is God saying through these sounds? Shouldn't
sirens and screams follow shots? Shouldn't I be paralyzed with fear instead
injected with hope?
This is the pretty moment that lies in an
ugly place. The church bell which represents the presence of God within the
community somehow seems out of place. The church bell rings and reminds those
who hear it that there is sanctuary, its sound is soothing. But this ring is not
some simple reminder of hope, God, and safety. It is a call. The bell calls us
to action. It rings in spite of the constant sounds of hell. If this is the
case, the gunshot must also be a call. These gunshots ring in spite the presence of the
church and its bell. They too elicit feelings like the church bell.
Gunshots and church bells are signs of a
conflicted reality. Which sound can silence the other? It is the gates of hell
that will not prevail against the church, but what about the sounds of hell? Who will
win this clash of kingdoms? Will both sounds remain ambivalent partners in a
dangerous dance that we call a neighborhood?
